Post by Κομμα on Feb 15, 2012 0:21:58 GMT 7
[Ward A]
The girl who stepped out brushed her dark brown bobbed hair away from her eyes and gave the skin on the floor a slight kick out of her way. It sunk silently into the floor beside her. "See? He didn't eat me. I'm right here!"
The smile this young girl gave wasn't the sort of sweet innocent little child smile the old telepath was accustomed to; there was something terribly, terribly wrong with these children. Had they been sent to punish her? Had they mistaken her for a monster like everyone else had? That doll, that demon doll finally lay in shambles on the hospital floor, with no more hold on her. She was free, but only for this! And there was no escaping--the door was still firmly locked. How had these children even gotten in? What were they?
The girl sighed, and spoke up, apparently to the boy that had just disappeared. "I thought you said this was going to be more fun! This old woman is boring."
The old woman did cover her eyes fully this time, shaking violently and whimpering like a child perhaps a tenth her own age. She had already seen the boy's swallowing act; she wanted to see no more if she could avoid it. When she looked again, the girl was straitening out, and crossing her arms in irritation at the blonde boy standing beside her once again. "Can I just kill her already? It's not like she's even going to be able escape with everyone else."
Without waiting for a response, the girl turned to the old woman and started slowly forward. "The grand finale already! Aren't you the lucky one?" She closed her eyes tightly. "That's not going to help much." The old woman opened her eyes, and found the girl's eyes inches from her own; her left the deep blue color of the ocean on a clear day, and her right the clear color of ice. These eyes didn't belong to a child, not really; they were too callous and cruel.
A small, cold hand was placed on her forehead. "I promise this won't hurt a bit." The hand began to sink into her flesh, to meld with it. "Not physically, anyway."
"N-no..."
The hand was gone, and so was most of the girl's arm. It was in her head, reaching around, pushing things about. Resurfacing things...a tea seat with pink hand painted roses, sitting on a pretty antique miniature play table for children--
"No!"
Little girls having a tea party with teddy bears and homemade dolls--
"No, no, get out!!"
Her granddaughters, yes! How happy little Ellie and Belinda had been about their wonderful new porcelain doll, until--
"--out, get out, get out, get--"
Broken pieces of a tea set on the floor, dark red on their play table--
"Get out!"
And all gone. The old woman opened her eyes shakily and stared at the girl sitting on the side of her bed, humming that accursed song. What made it so terrible? It was such a cute little nursery rhyme, really. She whispered under her breath, the first line. "I'm a little...teapot..."
The girl stared back over her shoulder at the old woman, smiling in her falsely sweet manner. "Short and stout?" she whispered back. She slowly held her hand out; dangling by the pinky finger of her right hand was a small, hand painted teapot, pink acrylic roses circling it. The girl watched, smiling, as the nightmare she had stolen rushed back straight to the very front of the old woman's mind. As she stood, setting the teapot down beside her, the old woman had begun convulsing, her eyes gone from the present, off reliving a past she had pushed so far into the back of her mind. Soon the old woman was still, but the light behind her eyes didn't return.
The dark-haired girl turned to her brother. "That was too easy. Should we look for a harder one while we're waiting for Ember?"
----------------
A sigh escaped the lips of one Salvatore Franco, but the sigh didn't belong to him.
This had been going on for a month, maybe more. He was still here, yet at the same time, he wasn't. His own reflection in the polished floors told him that it was still him, at least in appearance. He watched his own fingers strike a match against the roughly textured black bowl of a pipe, a match from a book he had no idea how he had gotten his hands on, and light the unflavored tobacco in the chamber with the small flame.
He doubted strongly that Lugi was going to be very happy with him about this little vacation he was on, or that the boss would believe his claims of possession. Lugi didn't play that kind of nonsense. Normally Sal didn't either, but he was the one possessed, and by a raving psychopath if the thoughts in his own head were any indication.
He laughed--once again, of no accord of his own. "Calling your roommate a psychopath? Not particularly civil of you. Didn't your parents ever teach you about sharing?" The voice that left his own mouth didn't even belong to him, nor could he make his own voice be heard aloud. "I trust you heard the screams as well?" The ones from down the hall...it had sounded like an old woman. "Seems likely the twins have arrived. You'll be rid of me soon. You haven't been particularly useful anyway...unless you happen to have a fear of pizza I was previously unaware of?"
Pizza? This guy really was nuts.
"I see you don't. What a pity."
Ferros took a long drag on his pipe, and sighed inwardly when the body he was sharing coughed reflexively. The only things had been unable to overrule in this one were simple human reflexes. Otherwise, Salvatore Franco was just a weak-willed twenty-three year old mafia grunt who was as good as possessed by his superiors the majority of the time anyway. The only reason he hadn't killed Salvatore was in order to have a bit of company in this rather stuffy cell. He hadn't proved particularly entertaining to this point; Ferros was just irritated enough by this to put this whiny, disrespectful brat out of everyone else's misery just as soon as they were in separate bodies.
The girl who stepped out brushed her dark brown bobbed hair away from her eyes and gave the skin on the floor a slight kick out of her way. It sunk silently into the floor beside her. "See? He didn't eat me. I'm right here!"
The smile this young girl gave wasn't the sort of sweet innocent little child smile the old telepath was accustomed to; there was something terribly, terribly wrong with these children. Had they been sent to punish her? Had they mistaken her for a monster like everyone else had? That doll, that demon doll finally lay in shambles on the hospital floor, with no more hold on her. She was free, but only for this! And there was no escaping--the door was still firmly locked. How had these children even gotten in? What were they?
The girl sighed, and spoke up, apparently to the boy that had just disappeared. "I thought you said this was going to be more fun! This old woman is boring."
The old woman did cover her eyes fully this time, shaking violently and whimpering like a child perhaps a tenth her own age. She had already seen the boy's swallowing act; she wanted to see no more if she could avoid it. When she looked again, the girl was straitening out, and crossing her arms in irritation at the blonde boy standing beside her once again. "Can I just kill her already? It's not like she's even going to be able escape with everyone else."
Without waiting for a response, the girl turned to the old woman and started slowly forward. "The grand finale already! Aren't you the lucky one?" She closed her eyes tightly. "That's not going to help much." The old woman opened her eyes, and found the girl's eyes inches from her own; her left the deep blue color of the ocean on a clear day, and her right the clear color of ice. These eyes didn't belong to a child, not really; they were too callous and cruel.
A small, cold hand was placed on her forehead. "I promise this won't hurt a bit." The hand began to sink into her flesh, to meld with it. "Not physically, anyway."
"N-no..."
The hand was gone, and so was most of the girl's arm. It was in her head, reaching around, pushing things about. Resurfacing things...a tea seat with pink hand painted roses, sitting on a pretty antique miniature play table for children--
"No!"
Little girls having a tea party with teddy bears and homemade dolls--
"No, no, get out!!"
Her granddaughters, yes! How happy little Ellie and Belinda had been about their wonderful new porcelain doll, until--
"--out, get out, get out, get--"
Broken pieces of a tea set on the floor, dark red on their play table--
"Get out!"
And all gone. The old woman opened her eyes shakily and stared at the girl sitting on the side of her bed, humming that accursed song. What made it so terrible? It was such a cute little nursery rhyme, really. She whispered under her breath, the first line. "I'm a little...teapot..."
The girl stared back over her shoulder at the old woman, smiling in her falsely sweet manner. "Short and stout?" she whispered back. She slowly held her hand out; dangling by the pinky finger of her right hand was a small, hand painted teapot, pink acrylic roses circling it. The girl watched, smiling, as the nightmare she had stolen rushed back straight to the very front of the old woman's mind. As she stood, setting the teapot down beside her, the old woman had begun convulsing, her eyes gone from the present, off reliving a past she had pushed so far into the back of her mind. Soon the old woman was still, but the light behind her eyes didn't return.
The dark-haired girl turned to her brother. "That was too easy. Should we look for a harder one while we're waiting for Ember?"
----------------
A sigh escaped the lips of one Salvatore Franco, but the sigh didn't belong to him.
This had been going on for a month, maybe more. He was still here, yet at the same time, he wasn't. His own reflection in the polished floors told him that it was still him, at least in appearance. He watched his own fingers strike a match against the roughly textured black bowl of a pipe, a match from a book he had no idea how he had gotten his hands on, and light the unflavored tobacco in the chamber with the small flame.
He doubted strongly that Lugi was going to be very happy with him about this little vacation he was on, or that the boss would believe his claims of possession. Lugi didn't play that kind of nonsense. Normally Sal didn't either, but he was the one possessed, and by a raving psychopath if the thoughts in his own head were any indication.
He laughed--once again, of no accord of his own. "Calling your roommate a psychopath? Not particularly civil of you. Didn't your parents ever teach you about sharing?" The voice that left his own mouth didn't even belong to him, nor could he make his own voice be heard aloud. "I trust you heard the screams as well?" The ones from down the hall...it had sounded like an old woman. "Seems likely the twins have arrived. You'll be rid of me soon. You haven't been particularly useful anyway...unless you happen to have a fear of pizza I was previously unaware of?"
Pizza? This guy really was nuts.
"I see you don't. What a pity."
Ferros took a long drag on his pipe, and sighed inwardly when the body he was sharing coughed reflexively. The only things had been unable to overrule in this one were simple human reflexes. Otherwise, Salvatore Franco was just a weak-willed twenty-three year old mafia grunt who was as good as possessed by his superiors the majority of the time anyway. The only reason he hadn't killed Salvatore was in order to have a bit of company in this rather stuffy cell. He hadn't proved particularly entertaining to this point; Ferros was just irritated enough by this to put this whiny, disrespectful brat out of everyone else's misery just as soon as they were in separate bodies.
