overlimit: (You expect me to believe that?)
overlimit ([personal profile] overlimit) wrote in [community profile] damned_institute2012-06-26 05:04 pm
Entry tags:

Night 64: Sun Room

[from here]

There was no sign of other patients in the Sun Room, meaning it was possible that Rita and her companion were the first. That was just what Rita didn’t want. It meant she couldn’t know if any monsters or brainwashed patients were lurking around, and if they were, she and the old man were going to get their full attention.

“Don’t make too much noise,” she cautioned Skulduggery in a whisper. “You never know what could be hiding in here.” Unfortunately, their flashlights probably drew plenty of attention too, which meant they needed to be fast. Treading lightly yet quickly, Rita started toward the entrance to the library, watching the darkness for signs of danger as she moved.
deathrattling: (Default)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-06-27 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
The first blood into the room, lights signalling their presence as if the first step over the threshold were not enough to bring them into her domain. Full attention was on them, indeed, the air in the Sun Room smelling stale and musty despite the amount of use it saw during the day.

Dusty, too, as each movement stirred up thicker and thicker clouds the deeper they ventured into the room. Dust motes glittered, trapped in the beams of their flashlights, and made the room seem less well-lit than it should have been, more impenetrable. The doorway to the library was obscured in shadow.

In that darkness, something stirred.
skeletonenigma: (darkfirewind)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-06-27 11:07 am (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery didn't need to be warned to move quietly, though his body wasn't quite as cooperative as he might have wanted. Quiet by normal standards, perhaps, but he still internally winced at every footfall where the noise wasn't completely absorbed by the carpet, every slow breath he was forced to take and the steady beat of the heart in his chest practically deafening in his ears. It was frustrating.

The atmosphere in the room was very different from earlier. It smelled dusty, unused for ages. Almost calming, if it weren't for Rita's warnings, the darkness, and the fact that Skulduggery knew the room was perfectly clean and full of people just an hour ago. Even as he managed to move at a pace quicker and surer than the night before, Skulduggery had his hand warily out, and he came to a sudden stop when the air suddenly shifted against his palm.

"Wait," he cautioned, eyes trained on the dark library door. Then, realizing that his abilities weren't completely understood, he belatedly added, "I think you're right. Something is hiding in here."
deathrattling: (hair2)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-06-28 02:46 am (UTC)(link)
The patients were running, but the darkness around them was patient. As they passed out of the slants of moonlight slicing into the Sun Room, the darkness around the door palpably grew. It spread in tendrils, thick, writhing, slow-growing without the comfort of being truly slow, and at the bottom of the doorway it melted into the thick pile of the carpet and panelling of the floor.

The floor -- which came alive even as they came close enough that the door should have been visible. Dark strands reached up, almost languid, and snagged at feet, ankles, shins, coiling around the one in front before yanking.
skeletonenigma: (fightfire)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-06-28 06:58 pm (UTC)(link)
They don't usually follow us from room to room.

"Ah," Skulduggery murmured. "Usually." Of course. Things, monsters attacking at night. As if the experiments and radical change of torture during the day weren't enough. It was nice to know that even when Skulduggery was tossed into an alternate reality, he could pretty much count on some kind of normal monster to continue making his life a misery. Ghouls, ghosts that created houses in caves, the Hollow Men, the Grotesquery. Dusk and his Infected.

Don't be a vampire, Skulduggery thought as he ran after Rita. Anything else is fine. Hell, I'll be grateful for another Faceless One. You can hear them. And they don't drink your blood before they kill you.

Something was wrong with the library door, with the darkness surrounding it. It was too... thick, too solid. Solid darkness. Years of war-honed instincts told him that when darkness was moving like that around a door that should really be visible by now, it usually meant Bad Things Were Happening. Like Necromancy.

But before Skulduggery could pull Rita back, something wrapped around the bare skin of his ankle and pulled it down, right as he stumbled into his next step. Already off-balance from running, Skulduggery crashed down onto the floor with a cry that came partly from the pain, and partly from the shock of how much pain there suddenly was. He could feel pain as a skeleton, sure, but falling and hitting his head had never dazed him, and certainly not for this long. It was a good few seconds before Skulduggery could even sit up.
deathrattling: (hair3)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-06-29 05:22 am (UTC)(link)
Both of her toys for the night fell, landing heavily on a mixture of carpet and hair that muffled the impact of flesh and ground. Even as the girl struggled the dark masses clutching her legs seemed to multiply -- but the blade sliced through with the distinctive snikt of knife on hair, and for a moment the strands around her slowed, paused.

And then attention redirected: or rather, focused. With a thick pulsing ripple the hair around Skulduggery expanded, multiplied until there was enough to wrap around every limb and constrict around his neck. Slowly, he was borne off the ground altogether, ever more darkness crawling onto his body to counter any fight he offered.
skeletonenigma: (fightfire)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-06-29 06:29 am (UTC)(link)
Sensations against his skin were something Skulduggery still had to get used to, but when the shadows around his ankle didn't disappear and more seemed to come out of nowhere, the one hectic thought he managed to grab onto was that shadows shouldn't feel so soft. And you shouldn't be able to cut through them with a knife.

Not Necromancy, then. Not shadows. Was it... hair?

He instinctively reached for a gun that wasn't there before his arms were covered in what was almost definitely hair now, and no amount of struggling could so much as dislodge it. Skulduggery felt the ground lift away from underneath him, and his already uneven breathing became harsh and painful. Despite the pressure on his neck, it still surprised him to realize that he was, in fact, choking.

What purpose did lungs serve?

When he could no longer draw in even a little bit of air, Skulduggery snapped the fingers of his right hand to summon a flame. He didn't need to look to know that it had worked - it was draining his energy again, for one thing - and he used the last of his physical strength to press the flickering fire against as much of the black stuff as he could reach.
deathrattling: (kayako grabby)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-06-30 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
The floor around Skulduggery writhed, gleaming darkly in the swiping glances of the patients' flashlights, glinting here and there where a long strand caught the light. Hair streamed around his neck, ears, face -- tips stealing across his eyes and around nostrils and mouth as if trying to choke him by crawling into him.

But fire -- fire worked, it seemed. Where the flame touched the darkness sizzled, fritzing into the distinct smell of burnt hair and falling away from his body. Rita's blade sheared through more, thick hanks of hair slithering to the floor to melt into the living mass below.

And then, beneath the smoking hair on Skulduggery's body, a hand appeared. Blue-pale and bloody-nailed. It pressed up his side, fingers digging in seemingly for grip. A shudder wracked the darkness, and with a heave it lifted him higher in the air still.
skeletonenigma: (pencilskul)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-06-30 02:25 am (UTC)(link)
If the sensation of hair against the skin on his ankle had been disconcerting, it was nothing compared to having his face covered with it - like the difference between dipping a toe in the water, and diving straight in. Skulduggery's vision was blocked off, his only means of gulping air forcibly taken away. He could feel the hair writhing across his jaw and trying to shove its way into his mouth, and quite frankly, it was disgusting.

The fire seemed to be working, though, and confirming Skulduggery's theory when the crispy smell of burnt hair filled the air. Burnt hair, he decided just then, was a good smell. With the small flame and Rita's help, Skulduggery managed to get most of his arms free, and he immediately reached up to rip away the strands at his neck and mouth.

For one glorious moment, he could breathe again, and he sucked in a lungful of delicious air before something suddenly gripped his side. Unfortunately, it wasn't Rita trying to pull him down - it was a creepy, bloody hand, digging in painfully and hoisting him higher. With the flame still lighting up his own, non-creepy hand, Skulduggery pressed his palm against those pale blue fingers and tried to prise them off.
deathrattling: (kayako grabby)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-07-02 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery's flame landed against skin and flesh and seared there, roasting the dead flesh with a mixture of sweet burnt-human smell and the pungent scent of something long-dead. Unlike the hair, however, it didn't fall away, instead clutching more deeply at his ribs until blunted nails pierced through to skin. Tattered flesh tore away as the fire continued, smearing onto his shirt in a gruesome trip upward.

Another hand thrust out from amongst the thick strands even as both patients continued to struggle -- this one higher, grabbing onto the side of his face with a wet slap and scrabbling blindly for purchase around one eye socket. A nail, loosened with old black blood, scraped loose and stuck to his cheek.

Below, the hair continued to multiply faster than Rita could cut it, entwining into a thick trunk that lifted her fellow patient nearly level with the top of the room. And from within it: slowly, quietly at first, there rose a steady, guttural rattle.
skeletonenigma: (writtenname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-07-02 07:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery had seen and experienced a lot in his time, up to and including zombie hordes. But, he had to admit, zombies that controlled massive amounts of hair hadn't ranked anywhere on the list. He was having a hard time believing it even now, but the fire that caught on the pale, creepy hand was burning away strips of rotting flesh in a way that didn't seem to hamper whatever the hand belonged to. In fact, the hand just dug in deeper, until Skulduggery realized with a pained shudder that the bloody nails were raking along his skin.

The fire catching onto his shirt and spreading quickly up his side was simply adding more insult to injury. The flames should have been perfectly under his control, barely even grazing him with heat. But they were beyond his control the moment the fire left his palm, and the intense heat against his skin was starting to hurt.

With zombies, you had to aim for the head. Whatever this was didn't seem to have one. Destructive fire, however, could be just as useful if you knew what to do with it. The dead hand might not feel pain, but the hair was receding from fire, and from Rita's blades. And there was still a writing heap of hair below him. With a determined heave, Skulduggery pushed himself over to face the floor - trying to brush as much of the hair around him with the burning shirt as possible - just as a second dead, clammy hand slapped onto his cheek and made for his eye.

This wasn't amusing. It had stopped being amusing a while ago, but now every single last drop of humor value had been sucked away. Skulduggery's anger lent him the strength to ignore the cold flesh against his eyelid, grip the hand still digging into his ribs, and displace the air around his own hand to shove it away with the force of a particularly nasty slingshot.
deathrattling: (kayako liquid hithar)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-07-06 05:52 am (UTC)(link)
As if in response to the struggles of its captive, the hair seemed to multiply, the column of it thickening and more strands extending from the very walls to join in supporting Skulduggery's weight. The hand he grabbed to force away snapped back with the force, hair trailing it in a shape reminiscent of a real human's and dead bones snapping with the ease of rotted joints. It loped drunkenly backward for a moment even as more hair began to smoulder around him, then arced back to latch onto the other side of his face.

Both hands pulled, sharp strong yanks as if something were using him to pull itself free, and in counterbalance the hair rose. Skulduggery rose far above his companion, level with and then higher than the balcony ringing the Sun Room on the second level. With him travelled the endless death-rattle, slithering up the length of the hair until it centred below his body.

Then -- fire from below, Rita's spell striking dead-on and cracking to life as the hair burned. The writhing trunk of hair glimmered with eerie, uneven light as the fire worked its way through hanks of hair, casting the room into unsteady lighting.

However unsteady, it still revealed their surroundings: hair covered every wall, reaching toward Skulduggery and sparking as it caught ablaze. Around their intended exit, bloodied handprints smeared a counterpoint to the door frame, fresh and nearly black in the firelight.

And in every picture frame the silhouette of a woman, hair tangled over her face and obscuring all but one staring, malevolent eye.
skeletonenigma: (pencilskul)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-07-11 01:42 pm (UTC)(link)
It wasn't long before both hands had clamped back down onto his face, and Skulduggery's subsequent groan was more due to how weak his manipulation of air had gotten, rather than how desperate his situation was becoming or how clammy the rotting flesh was. The doors to the chapel from last night and this morning were visible now, peeking out through the bars of the second floor railing, but Skulduggery was too far away from the railing to make any kind of a grab for it.

Rita, down below him, seemed to be on much better terms with fire than Skulduggery was right now. The flames she summoned caught and grew and lit up the room, and it briefly occurred to the former skeleton that if he fell from this height, especially without his usual increased air to cushion the impact, he'd very likely break a bone. Possibly more than one. The thought was strangely comforting.

He was too high up to see much more than the fire, but when he caught a glimpse of a larger picture frame further up on the wall - one that he knew had a boat in it just a few hours ago - Skulduggery took a chance and punched down into the hair, over and over again, aiming for where the creepy sound was coming from and hopefully where the head would be.
deathrattling: (kayako crawly)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-07-16 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
Skullduggery's fists pummelled into the hair, the shocks of each blow absorbed by soft thick tresses until, suddenly, something shattered against his knuckles. Brittle and yet fleshy on impact, it gave way with the momentum and a the sound of something tearing split wetly through the air. The binding of the hair paused, then slowly parted to reveal a head-sized lump that in turn lifted out of the dark strands: the same enraged eyes that stared out from every portrait in a white face, splattered with black and foul-smelling blood.

Beneath those same eyes came a white nose and then -- the remnants of what had once been the lower half of a woman's face. Skullduggery's blow had torn her bottom jaw away from its tenuous hold to her skull, the rotting flesh weak, and it hung loose now against the pale neck that followed the head. A tongue, swollen and blackened with decay, lolled with sharp jerks as she yanked herself up his body, the hands on his head pulling him down and into her.

Below, on the ground, the hair holding Skullduggery continued to blaze, lighting Rita's path to the bloodstained door and snowing burnt flakes of hair throughout the room. If she chose to open the door, there would be more hair behind it, a thick curtain she would have to fight through before she would be able to escape to the next room.
skeletonenigma: (darkfirewind)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-07-17 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
And this, Skulduggery realized, is why I don't usually have a plan. Strategy hadn't seemed to do much apart from set his shirt on fire, but several desperate punches into the soft black hair had finally managed to tear through something. Not that it seemed to do much good, just like practically everything else he and Rita had thrown at the thing. All it seemed to accomplish was sending an unfamiliar shudder down Skulduggery's spine as his fist sank through the rotting flesh.

"I feel I should warn you," he said, watching the owner of the rotting hands rise into view before him, "that I once met someone whose face was inside out. Compared to that, you're downright charming."

He wondered for a moment if the enraged woman would answer - or if she was even capable of understanding - but the far more immediate concern of being dragged down into the writhing mass of hair with her presented itself. Skulduggery had only recently acquired a throat and lungs, so he was by no means an expert, but he didn't think suffocating on hair and dead flesh was going to feel very good.

Although he would never have admitted it, Skulduggery was hoping this night would be as short as the last. Because without the static that seemed to precede every intercom announcement interrupting them, he really couldn't see a way out of this.
deathrattling: (kayako crawly)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-07-19 01:23 pm (UTC)(link)
The face that approached Skullduggery now was as incapable of understanding his words as it was of knowing any imperative but vengeance; vengeance not upon any specific targets but for the blood soaked into this space, the nights of fury and torture, for an old crime saturating the air with the rancid reek of hatred and the subtler stink of fear. There was no fear left in the eyes that regarded him now, but there was something almost questioning in her gaze --

But that was likely to be of little concern as her hands smoothed over his skin until her torn fingernails brushed his lips. Then into his lips, or through them, dead flesh travelling through living with neither blood nor wound, but undeniably landing in his mouth. Old blood scraped onto his teeth as she reached for a hold on his lower jaw in turn, pulling it down hard enough to dislocate.

The narrowed focus on Skullduggery had one beneficiary: Rita, whose exit had been blocked by living tendrils of hair, had in her panic pushed some of it away. Beyond the curtain of black were the tall bookshelves of the library, calm and unmarred by what lingered here.
purgatio: ([z] but speak so shallow)

time skipping for simplicity!

[personal profile] purgatio 2012-07-06 06:16 am (UTC)(link)
[ from here ]

Silence came to accent the darkness, and the boy's expression didn't change, didn't show a thing but bland focus. Nigredo was beneath his feet, and Albedo needed to reach him. That was all there was. His hand shifted on the shotgun in his grasp, the knives resting gently in his belt against his hips, and Albedo thought, perfectly and precisely.

How if that man did anything to his brother, Albedo would leave a trail of blood.
deathrattling: (Default)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-07-09 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
A trail of blood he might be willing to leave, but perhaps he was not prepared to find: as Albedo strode through the darkness, there rose a faint hint of scorched wood (and beneath it, for those who might know, burnt flesh). Beneath his feet the carpet rustled quietly, and should he care to look there were first droplets, then thin smears, and finally a thick pathway of blood extending beneath his feet.

But perhaps the boy would be distracted. From the distance, the recesses of the room untouched by light, there came the patter of footsteps, the quick bare-footed run of a child.
purgatio: ([z] sharp as shattered)

[personal profile] purgatio 2012-07-16 12:12 am (UTC)(link)
[I'm not a week late....]

Speak to a weapon of blood and fire, and it will know them as well as any other--know it better than bonds of love and joy. The scent perforated his being, and brought that aspect to awareness. Abstractly aware of it but nothing further, he continued to move forward.

Footsteps running beckoned nearby, and the Variant halted finally, eyes searching the room. Blood and fire, and now small footsteps. It was as if the Conflict had come back to haunt.

He couldn't think of it. He couldn't think.
deathrattling: (toshio meh)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-07-16 03:27 am (UTC)(link)
Those childish footsteps crossed the room in the distance, where the shadows of the room hid their owner -- then silence, absolute and breathing -- and then the same light, playful susurration in the carpet came behind him, approaching at an unusual rate. A small hand, pale enough to be marbled with blue veins where the skin was thin, reached out to tug on a corner of Albedo's shirt.

The hand led to a child, very young, with a bowl cut and wide eyes, the irises so large that the dim lighting nearly didn't catch on the whites at all. Silent, wearing only a thin T-shirt and shorts, the boy stared up at the patient.
purgatio: ([x] time will fly)

[personal profile] purgatio 2012-07-20 06:53 am (UTC)(link)
His eyes continued to trace the sound blindly in the distance, only to freeze when it halted and instead came from behind him--quickly, too quick-- Two? Were there more? What kind of enemy--

Ah, but that... Was thinking too much like the weapon he once was, and yet still would forever be.

Albedo shifted his weight, turning his body to the side to glance backward, only in time to see the child behind him (close, too close, how--), staring in a way Albedo would describe as haunted. This boy, too, had seen much and many (wondrous things, horrors untold), and Albedo, Albedo would--

He swallowed against the reaction even as his hand move to detach the child's hand from his shirt. "...Why are you here?"
vinesofregret: Cho Hakkai from Saiyuki (determined)

[personal profile] vinesofregret 2012-07-07 08:40 am (UTC)(link)
[From here]

Hakkai paused right inside the door. It sounded like there was fighting again, and he could see flashes of flame-bright light further in. He gave Gren a quick glance.

"Should we risk it?" He kept his voice as low as possible, not wanting to attract attention to themselves.
stellarregions: (quiet)

[personal profile] stellarregions 2012-07-08 11:38 pm (UTC)(link)
"Unless you want to try another way around," he offered. He wasn't spoiling for a fight, but he wasn't sure they had any better options.

"Maybe whatever it is will be distracted?" He tried to sound optimistic, but it came out a little less confident than it could be.

deathrattling: (hair2)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-07-09 02:29 am (UTC)(link)
Distracted, perhaps. But the rage that dwelt here was all-consuming and all-encompassing, and the presence of one victim did not nullify the threat to others. Even as the new intruders debated their path, thick vines of hair crept from within the doorframe they had just passed, covering the wood beneath.

Half-covered in clutching dark strands, the doors pulled shut with a sudden slam.
vinesofregret: Cho Hakkai from Saiyuki (unsettled)

[personal profile] vinesofregret 2012-07-09 07:51 am (UTC)(link)
Hakkai did jump, this time, the sudden noise behind him coming as more of a surprise than he could cover. He swept his flashlight around to see what had come up behind them, and saw only inky tendrils of darkness.

He gave Gren a nervous smile. "I don't think we have much of a choice tonight, it seems like." Whatever had trapped them in here was likely looking for a fight. He tried to steady himself, prepare for whatever form the attack took so he could counter it with his chi.
stellarregions: (annoyed)

[personal profile] stellarregions 2012-07-12 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
Gren cursed, and stared back at the abruptly closed door. Well, that wasn't good at all, was it? If they couldn't get out that way, there was really only one other way out of the room.

"Want to make a run for it?"

He was really only half-joking. Even if whatever it was caught up with them, they'd be closer to their destination when it did.
deathrattling: (Default)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-07-13 12:22 am (UTC)(link)
As the patients debated their course of action, the darkness around them deepened, the moonlight seeping through the windows with less and less strength. Even the glimmering light of fire from the other end of the room seemed to fade with time, each minute seeming to pull it further away, making it dimmer, separating the living breathing humans from one another.

Behind Hakkai and Gren, the force that had pushed the door shut had vanished -- closer inspection would show nothing but a door they could not pull open.

But deserving of closer inspection still was Gren: for between his dark hair drifted hair still darker, pitch-black and not of his own. It lengthened slowly, brushing down his shoulders to his back and lower still.
vinesofregret: Cho Hakkai from Saiyuki (chi blast)

[personal profile] vinesofregret 2012-07-13 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
Hakkai still wasn't sure what it was they were up against, but he could see the gradual dimming of the light - both from outside, and from Gren's flashlight. Whatever it was - it was trying to split them up. And that would be bad for both of them. Hakkai concentrated, pulled up a small ball of raw energy, and threw it at the darkness growing between them, even as he shoved forward right behind it.
stellarregions: (just keep moving)

[personal profile] stellarregions 2012-07-13 03:46 am (UTC)(link)
It almost seemed like an optical illusion, the way the room seemed almost to fade into blackness. It took a moment for his brain to even register the change, and by then, he was more concerned with the creeping sensation that was almost like wind, or the way the sand on Titan had tickled at the back of his neck like a multitude of tiny insects.

"What the--"

He was cut off as Hakkai moved suddenly and acted on instinct, throwing himself back towards the wall.
deathrattling: (hair3)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-07-14 02:22 pm (UTC)(link)
The ball of energy rent the darkness at first, shadows tearing apart as if Hakkai had attacked sheets of black fabric instead of something intangible. As they ripped apart to reveal the two men to one another with greater clarity, there echoed a faint rattling that seemed to emanate not from a fixed point but from around them in every direction. Almost a death rattle, for those who had heard one, it continued longer than any natural breath could even as it faded closer and further.

But the shrouding darkness did not return between them: it had already done its work. The hair drifting amongst Gren's own had lengthened enough to reach his waist and wrists, and there it suddenly stopped its lazy progression and whipped out in a sinuous curve to bind his arms to his torso and press him into the wall.
vinesofregret: Cho Hakkai from Saiyuki (ready to start trouble)

[personal profile] vinesofregret 2012-07-15 03:42 am (UTC)(link)
Hakkai bit back a swear. He didn't have any physical weapons on him to cut Gren free with - he didn't even know if physical weapons would work on whatever it was that had Gren trapped.

The sudden noise, soft as it was, chilled him to the bone, and made him pause as his first blast of chi faded away. He'd heard that sound many, many times before - the last few dying breaths of an enemy, choking on the blood in their lungs. But there was nobody he could see, and the sound came from all around them.

He tried to push that aside, and moved in for another blast of energy, aiming at the wall just to the side of Gren, hoping he wouldn't cause too much damage to the structure behind the darkness.
stellarregions: (put up a fight)

[personal profile] stellarregions 2012-07-15 04:22 am (UTC)(link)
The sound was a terrible one, calling to mind too many memories he preferred to keep well buried, but he didn't have much chance to dwell on it, or react at all as he was bound and pinned in place.

He would have cursed, had not the combination of the impact and the wave of sudden panic at being restrained--not again--taken the breath out of him. He recovered only enough to struggle, instinctual more than any planned strategy, nerves not at all helped by Hakkai's attempt to free him.
deathrattling: (kayako grabby)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-07-16 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
The wall cracked on impact, hair writhing around the ball of energy before some strands gave way. Behind the thick coat of black the plaster shuddered, fragments scattering around Hakkai and Gren and leaving a visible hole behind them. The death-rattle coalesced, echoing around the room before finally something became visible in the wall: an eye, wide and staring in a pale face mostly obscured by ropes of hair. Malevolent and furious, its gaze fixated on Hakkai --

Even as a hand parted through Gren's hair and landed on his face. Smooth, pale, and icy, it pressed against his cheek and pulled: and slowly, he began to sink back into the hair, into the wall itself.
vinesofregret: Cho Hakkai from Saiyuki (attack stance)

[personal profile] vinesofregret 2012-07-16 07:44 am (UTC)(link)
Hakkai recoiled from the face half-hidden beneath the hair. This was like nothing he'd fought before - it was something out of a ghost story, almost. He realized a moment later that his pause had given the spirit an opening to grab closer hold of Gren. It was becoming clear that his chi attacks weren't doing much good - instead, he dove in, trying to grab at Gren's shoulders and pull him away from the wall.
stellarregions: (haunted)

[personal profile] stellarregions 2012-07-16 07:07 pm (UTC)(link)
It was like every bad nightmare he'd ever had, on Titan and beyond, trapped and unable to do anything to free himself while a voice in the back of his mind that he hadn't heard in quite awhile now was telling him to just give up. He'd suffered enough, hadn't he? He'd almost had peace once... before waking up here, why not go back to it?

But he was still stronger than that voice, just barely, so he tried to flinch away from the corpse-like hand, tried to kick at the wall he was pinned to as if it would do him any good... struggled as much as he could to keep from being dragged away into that darkness.
deathrattling: (Default)

[personal profile] deathrattling 2012-07-17 09:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Hair swept and snaked over Gren's form, tangling with itself and his clothes to grasp him with an ever-firmer grip. The face in the wall pushed through, borne on a column of even more hair, bobbing with loose -- almost mechanical, unnatural -- jerks as she rested her chin on his shoulder. Almost affectionate, close enough for the rot and the death-rattle to ingrain into his senses, she tilted her merciless stare as if to watch Hakkai's efforts.

One dark eyebrow quirked: the expression shifting nearly to confusion for just a moment. Then another hand burst forth from the masses enveloping Gren and wrapped around his torso, clutching with dead flesh against the living, sinking his shoulders and back into what should have been soothingly-patterned wallpaper.

And the hair continued to wrap him in a living cocoon -- crawling with a life of its own, it wound around Hakkai's fingers where they touched Gren and then coiled up around his wrist, threatening to bind them together for good.
vinesofregret: Cho Hakkai from Saiyuki (attack stance)

[personal profile] vinesofregret 2012-07-19 08:21 am (UTC)(link)
Trying to pull Gren out wasn't working, and at the rate this was going, he was going to get trapped too. He tugged one hand free of the dark wisps - which, he was starting to realize, was hair - and aimed a quick punch at the face in the wall. Hopefully it would be enough of a distraction for Gren to pull free.
stellarregions: (sad)

[personal profile] stellarregions 2012-07-19 05:24 pm (UTC)(link)
"Get out of here, Hakkai." He didn't raise his voice, but he was resolute.

It was no use. Just no use. He could keep struggling, but he could hardly move, and at this point, they were both going to be dragged away if Hakkai stayed and tried to free him.

It was as if death and the weight of all his past sins were dragging him down into darkness, into an oblivion that part of him still craved after all this time.