[mad muses] modest mouse lyrics
Feb. 3rd, 2009 10:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magic_fratboyYou were laying on the carpet
Like you're satin in a coffin
You said, "Do you believe what you're saying?"
Yeah, right now, but not that often
NOTE: takes place February 3, 2009 at 8:30 PM. All muses referenced are present at the event with confirmation of their muns, and used with greatest of love. :P
He’d been here before…in the old days, when the escapes had no coffins and too much dirt. That was their favorite place to strike, when it was easiest to make him panic. Rookie mistakes, flaws surfacing that should never have existed, everything turned against him to make sure he couldn’t pull off the escape.
They’d been waiting for this day, he could see it now. In the blackness of his casket, he could see the lifetime of planning that went into the moment that could end his existence for good.
The cuffs were too cold. Ice cold, burning into his wrists and ankles. He knew the feel of that steel, that weight drawing on his energy…
The dirt had obliterated the light. He was in the ground and on his own.
Someone had switched the cuffs with a pair forged by the Darkness.
His heart was racing. He was starting to panic. The shackles were burning his skin.
Shutting his eyes made no difference, there was no light to shield himself from. A nightvision camera in the casket gave his audience up top a clear view of what he was doing. It was his only lifeline.
I can do this. I have to…I can’t. Oh God, I’m gonna die in here…
Focus. Breathe. The key Channing had passed him on the surface wasn’t going to work now. He had to use a shortcut, one that couldn’t be caught on tape. If he failed…
Lifting his head as much as the cramped space would allow, he focused on the lens he couldn’t see. He prayed his gaze would connect up top.
I can’t do this. I’m gonna die in here.
These weren’t his thoughts. His hands were shaking…oh Christ, his hands were shaking. He was going to die, but that’s what he’d been waiting for. Death, the veil…
Where was she? He was going to end up using all his air, and he couldn’t find her. The loss of her, the embrace of her arms on the other side…he was alone. He was losing his grip…he was alone.
Where was she?
Mayilia. It was the name that could give him strength, the word of power that would save him. Hope, life, energy wrapped in the innocence of a child…
“Ziyah.”
It was a whisper in the dark before his feet drew back and he smashed the camera in.
Shutting his eyes, he lay back again and grew quiet, grew still…and let his heart begin to slow down as he waited for the end to come.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In the darkness, a woman screamed. He knew the voice.
Steel tore loose. The earth shook.
The glass top of the coffin shattered, raining broken glass and damp soil down on top of him. He couldn’t cough, couldn’t breathe.
Weak and beaten, Tommy shifted six feet under the earth and began to dig.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“This can’t be fuckin’ happening…this can not be fuckin’ happening!!”
Channing was frozen in her seat, blood screaming with a fear that wasn’t her own. Two hours before, the escape had begun. Thirty minutes in, after watching Tommy on camera laying motionless, he whispered a name and kicked the camera in.
Shortly after, the earthquake had come…then the rain.
It was a minor trembler, and the steady shower had lasted only forty five minutes, but the damage had been done. With the earth shifting and the rain weighing the dirt down with water, Tommy had lost valuable space and oxygen to move around and dig his way out. For all they knew, he was still in the coffin…for all they knew, he couldn’t get to the pick she’d slipped him…
Sal was pacing like a caged tiger. Somewhere nearby, Channing could hear Sassy fighting tears. Belle was quiet beside her, pale and stoic. Ryder stood just a few feet away, staring at the tilled earth.
“We gotta go.”
“We’re not going after him.” Channing reminded him quietly. “He left specific instructions to leave him. Besides…the paramedics said ten more minutes.”
Italian cursing looped in Channing’s ears as Sal kept pacing. She shut her eyes and prayed to whomever might be listening.
“We got something!!”
Her eyes snapped open as she watched Salvatore bolt to the side of the grave…where the muddy dirt was moving.
A hand blasted through the dirt. A heartbeat later, another followed.
She watched as they planted themselves and tensed with effort before Tommy’s head, matted with dirt, his face smeared with mud broke the surface with a howl that filled her with joy and terror at the same time.
“MAYILIAAAAAAAA!!!”
A roar of applause went up as Tommy extricated himself from the grave, got to his feet, and stayed upright just long enough for Sal to get close enough to catch him before he collapsed, unconscious.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 803
Like you're satin in a coffin
You said, "Do you believe what you're saying?"
Yeah, right now, but not that often
NOTE: takes place February 3, 2009 at 8:30 PM. All muses referenced are present at the event with confirmation of their muns, and used with greatest of love. :P
He’d been here before…in the old days, when the escapes had no coffins and too much dirt. That was their favorite place to strike, when it was easiest to make him panic. Rookie mistakes, flaws surfacing that should never have existed, everything turned against him to make sure he couldn’t pull off the escape.
They’d been waiting for this day, he could see it now. In the blackness of his casket, he could see the lifetime of planning that went into the moment that could end his existence for good.
The cuffs were too cold. Ice cold, burning into his wrists and ankles. He knew the feel of that steel, that weight drawing on his energy…
The dirt had obliterated the light. He was in the ground and on his own.
Someone had switched the cuffs with a pair forged by the Darkness.
His heart was racing. He was starting to panic. The shackles were burning his skin.
Shutting his eyes made no difference, there was no light to shield himself from. A nightvision camera in the casket gave his audience up top a clear view of what he was doing. It was his only lifeline.
I can do this. I have to…I can’t. Oh God, I’m gonna die in here…
Focus. Breathe. The key Channing had passed him on the surface wasn’t going to work now. He had to use a shortcut, one that couldn’t be caught on tape. If he failed…
Lifting his head as much as the cramped space would allow, he focused on the lens he couldn’t see. He prayed his gaze would connect up top.
I can’t do this. I’m gonna die in here.
These weren’t his thoughts. His hands were shaking…oh Christ, his hands were shaking. He was going to die, but that’s what he’d been waiting for. Death, the veil…
Where was she? He was going to end up using all his air, and he couldn’t find her. The loss of her, the embrace of her arms on the other side…he was alone. He was losing his grip…he was alone.
Where was she?
Mayilia. It was the name that could give him strength, the word of power that would save him. Hope, life, energy wrapped in the innocence of a child…
“Ziyah.”
It was a whisper in the dark before his feet drew back and he smashed the camera in.
Shutting his eyes, he lay back again and grew quiet, grew still…and let his heart begin to slow down as he waited for the end to come.
In the darkness, a woman screamed. He knew the voice.
Steel tore loose. The earth shook.
The glass top of the coffin shattered, raining broken glass and damp soil down on top of him. He couldn’t cough, couldn’t breathe.
Weak and beaten, Tommy shifted six feet under the earth and began to dig.
“This can’t be fuckin’ happening…this can not be fuckin’ happening!!”
Channing was frozen in her seat, blood screaming with a fear that wasn’t her own. Two hours before, the escape had begun. Thirty minutes in, after watching Tommy on camera laying motionless, he whispered a name and kicked the camera in.
Shortly after, the earthquake had come…then the rain.
It was a minor trembler, and the steady shower had lasted only forty five minutes, but the damage had been done. With the earth shifting and the rain weighing the dirt down with water, Tommy had lost valuable space and oxygen to move around and dig his way out. For all they knew, he was still in the coffin…for all they knew, he couldn’t get to the pick she’d slipped him…
Sal was pacing like a caged tiger. Somewhere nearby, Channing could hear Sassy fighting tears. Belle was quiet beside her, pale and stoic. Ryder stood just a few feet away, staring at the tilled earth.
“We gotta go.”
“We’re not going after him.” Channing reminded him quietly. “He left specific instructions to leave him. Besides…the paramedics said ten more minutes.”
Italian cursing looped in Channing’s ears as Sal kept pacing. She shut her eyes and prayed to whomever might be listening.
“We got something!!”
Her eyes snapped open as she watched Salvatore bolt to the side of the grave…where the muddy dirt was moving.
A hand blasted through the dirt. A heartbeat later, another followed.
She watched as they planted themselves and tensed with effort before Tommy’s head, matted with dirt, his face smeared with mud broke the surface with a howl that filled her with joy and terror at the same time.
“MAYILIAAAAAAAA!!!”
A roar of applause went up as Tommy extricated himself from the grave, got to his feet, and stayed upright just long enough for Sal to get close enough to catch him before he collapsed, unconscious.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 803
