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tampered2006-04-28 08:35 pm
simorath.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-04-28 08:35 pm
(no subject)
When; Right now, just after dusk
Rating;G, unless Agito drops in PG13? R? Pending. xD;;
Characters; Simon calling for Cloud; but anyone who wants to join, join.
Summary; Sick psychopath currently writhing on the garden ground. High tolerance for hysterics required.
Log;
Simon was not too happy. Not that he had ever been terribly pleased with life before, but even less so now that he found himself, shivering, lying upon dirt littered with pebbles and broken petals. Deathly skinny arms tried to push his body off the ground, but they kept on giving and giving, so the silver-haired boy sank back down against the pulsating earth—-he could feel that clock ticking.
A scream swelled up inside his chest but when Simon attempted to spit it out, only a gasping noise, as if he were suffocating, escaped. Thin trails of saliva slipped down from the corner of his pale lips as cold sweat broke from his trembling hands.
That clock wouldn’t stop. Clenching his teeth, the boy attempted to concentrate on something—anything really—perhaps the last thing he has seen before he left his world behind. Doctor, doctor—what had she done to him? What had she been thinking, dumping him in this mad Eden with some incessant, invisible clock.
Another violent coughing fit tore through his porcelain body. Fingernails dug roughly into the rich, moist soil as Simon struggled to tame the convulsions.
Rating;
Characters; Simon calling for Cloud; but anyone who wants to join, join.
Summary; Sick psychopath currently writhing on the garden ground. High tolerance for hysterics required.
Log;
Simon was not too happy. Not that he had ever been terribly pleased with life before, but even less so now that he found himself, shivering, lying upon dirt littered with pebbles and broken petals. Deathly skinny arms tried to push his body off the ground, but they kept on giving and giving, so the silver-haired boy sank back down against the pulsating earth—-he could feel that clock ticking.
A scream swelled up inside his chest but when Simon attempted to spit it out, only a gasping noise, as if he were suffocating, escaped. Thin trails of saliva slipped down from the corner of his pale lips as cold sweat broke from his trembling hands.
That clock wouldn’t stop. Clenching his teeth, the boy attempted to concentrate on something—anything really—perhaps the last thing he has seen before he left his world behind. Doctor, doctor—what had she done to him? What had she been thinking, dumping him in this mad Eden with some incessant, invisible clock.
Another violent coughing fit tore through his porcelain body. Fingernails dug roughly into the rich, moist soil as Simon struggled to tame the convulsions.