Entry tags:
final investigation
[It's been almost a week since Orthrus' lucky escape. Almost a week, of all calls to Heisenberg going (metaphorically) to voicemail. Almost a week, to rest and recover from the harrowing losses of the previous Friday.
It's been almost a week. And the storms are getting worse.
You know the locked door on the first floor? The one that goes into the center of the tower, right across from the great entry hall doors?
Today, there's a heavy iron key sticking out of the lock. With a familiar crest on the head.
The key is sticky with wet yellow paint, and wetter blood.]
It's been almost a week. And the storms are getting worse.
You know the locked door on the first floor? The one that goes into the center of the tower, right across from the great entry hall doors?
Today, there's a heavy iron key sticking out of the lock. With a familiar crest on the head.
The key is sticky with wet yellow paint, and wetter blood.]
no subject
[He seems. Kind of reluctant to be admitting this.]
no subject
Mistakes... and she's been down here ever since?
no subject
[There's a faint tone of disgust to his words that would be hard to fake. After all, for all he knows, he was about to become just like her.]
no subject
[She shakes her head sadly. Looks at him, and then down at Susan in Baldr's arms before quickly turning away.]
So it really did happen. No wonder you never wanted to tell us. What happened to everyone else? Did you just send them home...?
no subject
no subject
The Corridor is a mysterious place, with billions of worlds and trillions of branching realities. They're not the same, I assure you. Perhaps they're a version who had eggs instead of toast for breakfast, or something. Maybe they're from five minutes ago, or twenty minutes from now. Does it matter?
...If they're not the same, then they won't remember, right?]
...Yeah. Probably think it was a bad dream.
no subject
[says the person who is very not okay]