damned_institute | Night 44: Main Hall, 2-West

Entry tags:

Night 44: Main Hall, 2-West

[To here]

After reaching the top of the stairs, Tenzen slipped into the next hallway. This time, the hallway consisted out of a normal floor, ceiling and walls, as opposed to the pulsing flesh from last night.

Sliding his hand along the wall, the ninja kept his flashlight switched off as he headed East.

[To here]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Another patient with good instincts, instincts that perhaps he should have followed. Scar was certainly right in that there was definitely something lurking in the darkness -- something borne of hatred that had festered for years upon years, until the cause for vengeance had been forgotten and only the drive for it remained. Any target, any at all, that wandered into this space would do.

And as Scar moved into the hallway, that something found him: something subtle, something that couldn't quite be pinpointed. There was a set of footsteps, unsteady and lurching (one foot landing heavier than the other, the other sounding almost like it was being dragged), but it seemed to come from all directions and no directions at once, fading in and out of awareness.

Perhaps it might have been wiser to keep his flashlight on -- for then Scar might have been able to see, flickering in and out of sight, the figure of a disfigured human, movements jerky and unreal.

When something not immediately jumped from the darkness, Scar might have thought he could pass by unnoticed. He moved further into the hallway as quietly as he could, barely daring to breathe, until he froze at a sound. He didn't need his more sensitive hearing to pick it up.

Footsteps.

Just another patient, he tried to reason, but fate was not so kind to him. The thought had barely crossed his mind before he already knew it couldn't be true; the sound was not similar to that of the patients he frequently heard while traversing the halls. The footsteps were unsteady and lurching, almost as if one foot or leg was injured. His green eyes darted around the hallway, for some reason not being able to pinpoint the location of the sound by hearing alone. For some reason, the footsteps seemed to come from every direction. And with each step that steadily grew louder, a sense of panic began growing within, making it increasingly more difficult for the king to remain calm.

Where did it come from?!, he couldn't help but think.

Something was approaching him. Whatever it was that was here, it had found him. It had found him! His first instinct was to flee blindly into a direction, any direction, as long as it was as far away from this thing as possible. But the rational part - albeit small now - of him knew quite well that he'd risk running straight into the thing's....something.

So he remained standing, wildly looking into every single direction, until he finally noticed a shape in the darkness. Granted, his sight wasn't what it used to be, and without the aid of the light-stick he could not make out any details. At first, he wasn't even sure if he did see it right, as it was disappearing and reappearing, but as he narrowed his eyes and peered into the darkness he finally noticed that his vision wasn't playing tricks on him; the form - he could not call it anything else at this point - flickered in and out of sight as it approached, movements jerky.

Scar's breathing nearly stopped in his throat at the realization, instinctively taking steps back as he - between the fear - wrecked his brain about what in the world was approaching. This couldn't be happening!! This couldn't be happening!! Every piece of his body urged him to run, to return downstairs and keep running until he reached the relative safety of his room, but rather than urging him on his fear seem to prevent him from making the obvious wise decision.

Instead he wanted to throw his flashlight at the thing and deny it ever existed.

Perhaps the best strategy might have been to throw the flashlight and run. Then again, something about the suddenly-oppressive atmosphere suggested that it might not be simple: Scar's sensitive animal instinct might have prickled before, but now there was something in the air that even humans might have noticed. Something dark, furious, something that held an unbridled and murderous fury.

Scar was the target.

With unnatural speed and that inhuman movement, the figure jerked and twitched closer, flickering less and less and appearing more solid the closer it approached. Now it could be seen that though the head was lolling back and forth -- as if the neck couldn't hold it up, as if the neck had been snapped -- the eyes that could be seen now and again through a curtain of long dark hair were ever fixed on the patient in the hallway.

And they spoke rage.

"Oi!" Donna called as she took steps over towards the scene.

She didn't know what the thing was - ghost or whatever - and just because it gave her the willies didn't mean that she wasn't brave enough to approach it. Though the reasons for getting near weren't for the man's sake. That was the last thing Donna was thinking, being the "heroine" and all. She just didn't want her little snap from earlier to come back and haunt her. Honestly, she didn't really want anyone going and getting eaten, even if she had told the man so. Then again, ghosts (if they existed) probably didn't eat in the traditional sense.

Not by what she'd learned from X-files, in any event.

"See what being stubborn gets you?" Of course, she also had to get in a say at the man for being to pig-headed. Always the most important thing.

Even despite his fear, Scar noticed the change in atmosphere. It grew heavier. Darker. He could feel the murderous fury coming from the - what was that thing?! - approaching with it's jerky movements, coming closer and closer and urging Scar to take more steps back even if that was hardly helpful; it still came closer, close enough so he could spot more details on the approaching form.

But he wished he couldn't.

The head lolled back and forth as if the neck wasn't even bothering to support it, suggesting it had been snapped. It shouldn't even be able to walk around like this, should it? A curtain of long black hair hung before the face, but regardless, he could see the eyes, the very eyes which made the lolling head not even matter. They that were not as blank as those from the animated corpses from a couple of nights ago. These eyes held one emotion that he could not miss even if he tried to deny it as much as he could; they held rage, the very murderous rage the air had been so thick with and those eyes filled with rage were directed at him.

He shouldn't have come here! It was going to kill him!! It was definitely going to kill him!! The former lion could barely restrain his own panic, and he looked anything but the King he always so proudly claimed to be. His head was overrun with denial and fear of this obvious threat to his life, the rage in both the air and the thing's eyes that were directed at him, and his instincts that were telling him to run as far as possible, to no longer remain here whatever the cost. He wanted to make it stop coming, while another part of him attempted looking for a way out that could save him. It almost seemed his body couldn't figure out what to listen to, and other than his vain attempts to create more distance between them while grasping his flashlight and his steel pipe so tightly his knuckles were becoming white, he was almost at loss.

And with his mind so occupied, he barely even registered the comment or it's owner nearby, much less their identity. Even if he did, he was in no state to glare at the insolent woman and counter the disrespectful remark.

Oh yes, the source of this murderous fury wanted to kill him. But it wanted to kill him slowly, make sure he knew suffering before he died -- and unlike Kayako in life, Kayako in death had the power and the strength to do the deed. Kayako in life had swallowed the demons that powered the curse left by her blood in death, and that power for vengeance permeated the air that Scar breathed, sank into his lungs.

She knew she could kill him. She was going to kill him; she was coming to force him to feel her terror, to feed it into his very veins. The intent screamed clear through her broken-doll movements, each step bringing her flickering form closer.

And closer, close enough for him to make out the individual trails of blood that had stained her skin, the shapeless shift she wore. Closer still, moving in a way that engulfed space, until she could suddenly lift out her arms and reach for Scar, a terrible violence written through the intent of that small, twisted frame.

That was invisible to anyone who wasn't the victim she had chosen for now. Donna would see nothing but the terror of her fellow patient.

As she got closer, she started feeling more and more of the cold feeling, but being the stubborn woman she was, just dealt with it. She had her mind set on making the man see just what being so rude got him, and no ghost or cold feeling was going to make her stop. Especially when he was ignoring her like that!

But when she was close enough to see his face, something about his expression was more than just him ignoring her. He looked really scared. What, were ghosts not normal where he was from? Technically speaking they weren't normal for Donna either, but given all the things she'd seen... anyway, if he was really scared, maybe it was a good idea to get him out of there? She didn't like him all that much, but it wouldn't be too much if she just gave him a quick tap back down the stairs, now would it? Smacking him would definitely make her feel better, and she'd be keeping him from getting "eaten" or whatever, which she might have said but didn't really want.

She stopped a moment, took a breath, then breathed it out to herself, "All right then... in and out." It wasn't as though Donna had to like ghosts either! After her little pep talk though, she was ready to head on in. "Hey, go find some meddling kids or something!" she snapped at the ghost, moving closer still.

And the terror he most certainly felt, not needing his instincts to know of the approaching thing's intentions. It's movements, the rage within those eyes; they spoke their message clearly and the air, too, was filled with rage. It kept coming closer and closer. By now, Scar could see the blood stains all over the creature's form, and he could only so much as guess where these blood stains came from. But right now, they hardly mattered in comparison.

She still came closer, and then the thing suddenly lifted her arms and reached out. Violently. Scar opened his mouth, perhaps to scream, but all that left his throat was a panicked gasp as he attempted to back away. Clearly in desperation, he swung the steel pipe he still clutched so tightly in his hand to the one approaching, not even aiming anywhere in particular as long as it would make that thing go away! Whether the steel pipe would be able to connect was another matter altogether. Had he been more calm, he might have realized this as flickering forms were arguably not even solid, but as it was, he couldn't think straight, numbing his usually sharp wits. Fear was a funny thing...poisoning the mind and paralyzing the body, and Scar had never been the courageous sort.

He vaguely heard someone yelling about meddling kids, and though somewhere he recognized the voice, it's owner wasn't something that was on his mind.

If the ghost noticed Donna, she made no indication; her focus had narrowed in on one target long before and remained fixated with mindless determination. When Scar swung, the pipe seemed to make contact for a moment with a sickening smack and crunch. Dark black blood spattered with a brief wet noise as shallow cuts that had already been present in dead flesh ruptured wider, spraying forth blood that had been sitting in stasis without a heart to pump it into motion.

Her spine curved to one side with the force of impact and the head that had been dangling on a broken neck jerked -- and then she flickered out of sight.

And reappeared right in the circle of his arms' reach, her own arms outstretched wide and white and blood-streaked for a moment -- before they wrapped with crushing strength around his frame, gripping tight and suddenly pushing him back inexorably, towards the stairwell from which he'd come.

It was Donna's turn to ignore, or rather ignore the fact that she had been and was continuing to be ignored herself. Normally that would have gotten to her. Here it did too, but since she was storming over to a man she couldn't have cared less for an a ghost, she was letting it slide. She was crazy enough with this that she didn't need any more anger getting the better of her.

She watched as the man brought up a pipe of some sort and aim it for the ghost's head, but before she could get out more than a, "Wait, don't...!" the sound of a cracking sounded in the hallway. More shivers went through her body, but Donna forced herself to ignore them. Of course ghosts would make sickening sounds if struck with metal pi... hey, wait a minute. Ghosts getting struck?

... she didn't get it, and quite honestly, she didn't bloody want to!

By the time she got those thoughts form mind, the ghost had moved, gotten around the man, and was on him, pulling him back. Tangible or not, the ghost or whatever was definitely touching the man and getting him to go back - closer towards the stairs. It didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant. But she didn't have to watch anymore. She'd gotten close enough now, and with a few steps she was behind the man, pushing back as hard as she was able and glaring beyond the thick mess of black hair.

"Just try it!" she dared, not likely having the best choice of words there.

A sickening crack sounded through the hallway as the pipe (surprisingly) connected with it's target. Blood spattered as the impact of the blow made the thing curve to the side, before it flickered out of sight. Scar blinked, looking at the very location the 'creature' had been before it had disappeared.

...it had actually worked?

For only a mere second, the former lion felt the slightest amount of relief. That dreadful thing had disappeared!

How wrong he was. And when the creature appeared right in front of him with outstretched, blood-stained arms, Scar could only widen his eyes. Before he knew it, arms wrapping around his body with strength he had no idea it could even possess and began pushing him back into the very direction he had come from.

Even in his current state, the King knew what it meant. It hardly took any braincells to figure it out; in the direction he came from was the stairwell! It was going to kill him by pushing him off the stairs! And as soon as he realized this, he dug his feet as he struggled against the iron grip with all the might he had.

But Scar had never been a pillar of strength, and it seemed he could do little to improve the situation. His feet kept sliding over the floor as they got closer and closer towards the stairwell, not even able to loosen the thing's arms for only a bit.

He was about to grow desperate, but to his surprise, he met resistance behind him. Something or someone was attempting to push him away from the stairs. And just then, he dared a look over his shoulder and finally realized there was someone else. Possibly the last person he had expected; the woman he had met downstairs.

"You?!" Scar managed in surprise.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Night 44: Main Hall, 2-West

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject