evilwithin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
evilwithin) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hillhouse2021-06-06 07:02 pm
evilwithin) wrote in hillhouse2021-06-06 07:02 pm
Entry tags:
MIDNIGHT
[You know you were walking, though you thought it was a dream. Deep into the woods, armed with a flashlight, the fog grows deeper, deeper, and with it, your sense of reality, and of self, blurs.
Leaves crunch. Gravel rolls beneath your heels. An iron gate is pushed open on rusted, protesting hinges. Somewhere along the way, other footsteps joined yours, the cadence too in sync to be natural. All at once you stop, standing, dazed. The fog around you has disappeared, but your head remains clouded.
That's when a clock begins to chime. With each bellowing note, your head starts to clear, your body regaining warmth. When the twelfth, and final, tone has faded, you have full control over your faculties once more. If only you knew why you were here, or where this was, or how you even got to this place.
The house is quiet, but you have the distinct sense that it is simply biding it's time, for now.]
Leaves crunch. Gravel rolls beneath your heels. An iron gate is pushed open on rusted, protesting hinges. Somewhere along the way, other footsteps joined yours, the cadence too in sync to be natural. All at once you stop, standing, dazed. The fog around you has disappeared, but your head remains clouded.
That's when a clock begins to chime. With each bellowing note, your head starts to clear, your body regaining warmth. When the twelfth, and final, tone has faded, you have full control over your faculties once more. If only you knew why you were here, or where this was, or how you even got to this place.
The house is quiet, but you have the distinct sense that it is simply biding it's time, for now.]
no subject
[Well, neat. A beat, and though he's clearly, uh, distracted by all this, still Polnareff offers the kid a grin.]
Nice to meet you. Name's Polnareff. You know, I got a friend who lives in New York— that's near New Jersey, right?
[It's not a real question. Polnareff turns towards him, tipping his head. Mildly:]
You got any idea what this might be about?
no subject
No idea, no...I remember walking here, sort of, but it was too dark and foggy to see anything. I thought I was just dreaming.
[He has a lot of weird dreams.]
It's nice to meet you, too. I mean, despite this being...kind of like a horror movie.
no subject
Yeah, no kidding. Let's just hope it's one of the ones where you can kill the serial killer or monster or whatever, hey?
[He wishes he had a gun. Or his sword. Or both! Both would be nice, and he absently pats along his hip, just as he had right when he'd woken up, but no. Polnareff glances around again, then gestures to Sal.]
Gimmie a hand here.
[He's going to stand. He's got a cane strapped to the back of his chair, but getting up out of it requires some help sometimes. Just a quick hoist up, but he can stand on his own. Metallic prosthetics, built from his thighs down, catch the faint light, gleaming. They're nice prosthetics.]
A house like this looks worth exploring, but first things first.
Hey, you don't know either of them, right?
[Jesse or David, he means.]