Tʜᴇ Gᴏᴠᴇʀɴᴏʀ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
broughtwhiskey) wrote2014-11-25 09:49 am
broughtwhiskey) wrote2014-11-25 09:49 am
♕ 001 spam/text
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[Disoriented is a word for what Philip feels upon waking on the Barge. There's a dull throb of pain in his chest and his head, things he know he should be dead from, and his shirt is still slick with blood. He also recognizes the room he wakes up in with everything where it should be, but he knows it should burned out. The view outside the windows, however, aren't looking out into the streets of Woodbury, but an infinite void. He isn't sure if this is what death is supposed to be like, but he has a feeling it's not because it feels very much alive.]
[He's willing to stay as long as it takes to change and clean the blood off his face, but no longer than that. He doesn't feel particularly keen on lingering in a room with this many reminders right now. Already he's trying hard to not think of what just happened, the large amount of nothing he just left behind once more. He looks for any of his weapons before leaving to find them gone. So perhaps not everything is in its place. But no matter. He can improvise if the situation calls for it.]
[Stepping outside into the hall, he still doesn't know what to make of any of this. but if there's one thing he knows, it's that he needs to get his bearings and so he sets off to learn the layout of wherever the hell he's ended up.]
text.
[Later, after he's had the chance to explore and numerous explanations and perspectives on what this place is, he only has one question:]
How many of you are here?
[Disoriented is a word for what Philip feels upon waking on the Barge. There's a dull throb of pain in his chest and his head, things he know he should be dead from, and his shirt is still slick with blood. He also recognizes the room he wakes up in with everything where it should be, but he knows it should burned out. The view outside the windows, however, aren't looking out into the streets of Woodbury, but an infinite void. He isn't sure if this is what death is supposed to be like, but he has a feeling it's not because it feels very much alive.]
[He's willing to stay as long as it takes to change and clean the blood off his face, but no longer than that. He doesn't feel particularly keen on lingering in a room with this many reminders right now. Already he's trying hard to not think of what just happened, the large amount of nothing he just left behind once more. He looks for any of his weapons before leaving to find them gone. So perhaps not everything is in its place. But no matter. He can improvise if the situation calls for it.]
[Stepping outside into the hall, he still doesn't know what to make of any of this. but if there's one thing he knows, it's that he needs to get his bearings and so he sets off to learn the layout of wherever the hell he's ended up.]
text.
[Later, after he's had the chance to explore and numerous explanations and perspectives on what this place is, he only has one question:]
How many of you are here?
no subject
[Not that he has anywhere better to be and there are probably worse places to spend his afterlife. Maybe.]
no subject
[She said, ironically.]
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[And besides, crazy can be useful. Crazy can be pointed in the correct direction and be highly effective when the time comes.]
[Not that he's planning for there to be a time exactly, but it never hurts to be prepared.]
So I've gathered in my short time being here.
no subject
no subject
no subject
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[From one professional to another.]
no subject
no subject
[Not that he finds this particular sample all that appealing so far. They are proving to be combinations of naive and incompetent. This is a very, very strange form of Hell, basically.]
I'll let you know what my plans are.