[wam] 022. a violent whisper
Aug. 1st, 2008 10:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magic_fratboyGive in. Just relax, it will be over soon.
Tommy shut his eyes against the violent, silken whisper in the dark and fought not to scream. His body was beaten, his head was pounding, and his muscles were screaming even as his insides threatened to cave in on him. He’d woken up to darkness and pain, but as the minutes, seconds, weeks wore on in his head, he realized there was more attacking him than just a head injury stemming from a Bringer’s human servant.
The cuffs weighing his wrists down were forged by the Darkness. The leg irons, too. The only pair of cuffs not mystically made were the ones that ran through the chains binding him and securing him to the length of pipe just over his head.
He’d popped those cuffs without any trouble. Still, he couldn’t move.
It’s easy. Just lay down, close your eyes. It won’t hurt.
“Shut UP!!!” The scream tore through the darkness with a wail of desperation and pain that made it almost unrecognizable as his own voice. He was starting to believe the silky slide of shadows, gliding over his psyche and burning him almost physically. He couldn’t even focus on his restraints, couldn’t get past that veneer of banality and the deadly mundane. Shaking his wrist made his shackles jingle, running his fingers over them gave him a number, but it slid away in seconds and left him at a loss as to how to get free.
The building he was in was abandoned. Empty. He was alone. He was on a top floor.
And the structure was slated for implosion.
He could see the blown-out stairwell from where he sat, and growing up in Las Vegas had taught him just enough about large-scale demolition to know what he was seeing. The charges were down at the base.
You’ll only hurt yourself if you fight.
Slumping against the wall, Tommy merely sat for a moment before he finally lay back against the floor and shut his eyes.
Relax. Breathe deep. Rest. It will be all right.
There was poison in his blood, poison in his soul...evil binding him in place. Waiting for him to fall, waiting for him to do more than die: it was waiting for him to surrender.
It was waiting for hope to die before he could breathe his last.
He took a deep breath and relaxed, listening to the sound of his own heartbeat.
Slow. Steady. Let the muscles go cold, go taut. You don’t need them anymore.
Another deep breath. His heart was slowing.
Boy, if you’re listening to those fools, you’re absolutely mad.
Through the pain, through the cold, through the slow, nauseating grind of dark energy roiling through him, the familiar inner voice brought a small smile to Tommy’s lips. He knew that voice, he was fond of that voice.
White?
I think you know better by now.
So it’s true.
Seems so...now stop listening to that nonsense and get to work on those cuffs, damn it!
Who’s listening? I’m talking to you, ain’t I? I need your help with these restraints. I can’t open them alone, and I don’t know how much time I’ve got.
Not much, I’d wager. Oh, very well...let’s get ourselves free. I’ve no interest in dying again quite this soon...
Tommy’s smile grew as he let the trance take him completely, breath and heart stilling as his body relaxed completely into its deepest form of meditation.
Fifteen minutes later, the first of four sets of handcuffs binding his wrists and ankles cheerfully snapped open.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 612
Tommy shut his eyes against the violent, silken whisper in the dark and fought not to scream. His body was beaten, his head was pounding, and his muscles were screaming even as his insides threatened to cave in on him. He’d woken up to darkness and pain, but as the minutes, seconds, weeks wore on in his head, he realized there was more attacking him than just a head injury stemming from a Bringer’s human servant.
The cuffs weighing his wrists down were forged by the Darkness. The leg irons, too. The only pair of cuffs not mystically made were the ones that ran through the chains binding him and securing him to the length of pipe just over his head.
He’d popped those cuffs without any trouble. Still, he couldn’t move.
It’s easy. Just lay down, close your eyes. It won’t hurt.
“Shut UP!!!” The scream tore through the darkness with a wail of desperation and pain that made it almost unrecognizable as his own voice. He was starting to believe the silky slide of shadows, gliding over his psyche and burning him almost physically. He couldn’t even focus on his restraints, couldn’t get past that veneer of banality and the deadly mundane. Shaking his wrist made his shackles jingle, running his fingers over them gave him a number, but it slid away in seconds and left him at a loss as to how to get free.
The building he was in was abandoned. Empty. He was alone. He was on a top floor.
And the structure was slated for implosion.
He could see the blown-out stairwell from where he sat, and growing up in Las Vegas had taught him just enough about large-scale demolition to know what he was seeing. The charges were down at the base.
You’ll only hurt yourself if you fight.
Slumping against the wall, Tommy merely sat for a moment before he finally lay back against the floor and shut his eyes.
Relax. Breathe deep. Rest. It will be all right.
There was poison in his blood, poison in his soul...evil binding him in place. Waiting for him to fall, waiting for him to do more than die: it was waiting for him to surrender.
It was waiting for hope to die before he could breathe his last.
He took a deep breath and relaxed, listening to the sound of his own heartbeat.
Slow. Steady. Let the muscles go cold, go taut. You don’t need them anymore.
Another deep breath. His heart was slowing.
Boy, if you’re listening to those fools, you’re absolutely mad.
Through the pain, through the cold, through the slow, nauseating grind of dark energy roiling through him, the familiar inner voice brought a small smile to Tommy’s lips. He knew that voice, he was fond of that voice.
White?
I think you know better by now.
So it’s true.
Seems so...now stop listening to that nonsense and get to work on those cuffs, damn it!
Who’s listening? I’m talking to you, ain’t I? I need your help with these restraints. I can’t open them alone, and I don’t know how much time I’ve got.
Not much, I’d wager. Oh, very well...let’s get ourselves free. I’ve no interest in dying again quite this soon...
Tommy’s smile grew as he let the trance take him completely, breath and heart stilling as his body relaxed completely into its deepest form of meditation.
Fifteen minutes later, the first of four sets of handcuffs binding his wrists and ankles cheerfully snapped open.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 612
