[This makes the third week he's been unable to sleep more than four hours a night. The Ambien that Wilson prescribed him - which he's more and more prone to forget to take as his sleep deprivation wears on - tends to come with the small catch of making the nightmares that fuel his sleeplessness worse. And he is just stubborn enough to fight the sedative effect after he can't take anymore. So falling asleep again at the end of the night at first seems like an unfortunate slip. The dream of falling, however, is so tame in comparison to the other horrors this town has inflicted on him his sleep-starved body remains at rest after it ends.
Long enough to lapse into another nightmare. He wakes up bolting forward - he's facing the wall, thankfully, so no pushing someone into the pit - with a screamed "Don't go!". And, of course, he bumps into someone. Or something. Maybe he tripped over someone's bag or just hit the wall while they watched. He's too out of it to tell, propping himself up with one hand as he surveys his surroundings in groggy confusion. Dimly, he remembers the impact, and he focuses on the person he thinks was involved.]
I'm sorry, did I hurt you?
B - diplomatic approach
[When he's managed to clear the brain fog as well as he ever is going to, he explores the area. It doesn't take long. Plain room, hole in the center, lots of people doing the same. After idling with his knees drawn up to his chest for a while, listing slightly sideways as if seated unevenly (he's not), he gets up and tiredly shuffles up to the edge of the hole.
Seeing the teeth, he kneels down and leans over the edge.]
Hello? Are you the thing they call "it"? What is it you don't understand? Can I teach you?
[Hey, on four hours of sleep at best, it seemed like a good idea.]
C: rambling into the void (near-fall optional)
[He keeps talking to the thing, when he isn't keeping someone else company.]
I hear your invitation. For...some meaning of "hear". I can't accept it. I- I know you must think I'm one of the easy targets. I have so little left to lose, after all. It makes a lot of sense, sometimes. Taking this risk. But- don't ask me how, but you remind me of a demon. I can't be sure I won't be turned into a weapon against the people I love again. No offense to you. It's only...what's the phrase. I heard a good one somewhere. "Once bitten"...?
(Optional prompt:)
[Perhaps he is unlucky - perhaps he is leaning over the edge just as two more inches of floor disappear. He yelps and twists, catching himself on the edge and hauling himself out, grabbing any offered hand to help if available. He looks back at the now-wider hole, eyes dilated.]
OTA unless otherwise specified, cw: suicidal ideation in prompt C
[This makes the third week he's been unable to sleep more than four hours a night. The Ambien that Wilson prescribed him - which he's more and more prone to forget to take as his sleep deprivation wears on - tends to come with the small catch of making the nightmares that fuel his sleeplessness worse. And he is just stubborn enough to fight the sedative effect after he can't take anymore. So falling asleep again at the end of the night at first seems like an unfortunate slip. The dream of falling, however, is so tame in comparison to the other horrors this town has inflicted on him his sleep-starved body remains at rest after it ends.
Long enough to lapse into another nightmare. He wakes up bolting forward - he's facing the wall, thankfully, so no pushing someone into the pit - with a screamed "Don't go!". And, of course, he bumps into someone. Or something. Maybe he tripped over someone's bag or just hit the wall while they watched. He's too out of it to tell, propping himself up with one hand as he surveys his surroundings in groggy confusion. Dimly, he remembers the impact, and he focuses on the person he thinks was involved.]
I'm sorry, did I hurt you?
B - diplomatic approach
[When he's managed to clear the brain fog as well as he ever is going to, he explores the area. It doesn't take long. Plain room, hole in the center, lots of people doing the same. After idling with his knees drawn up to his chest for a while, listing slightly sideways as if seated unevenly (he's not), he gets up and tiredly shuffles up to the edge of the hole.
Seeing the teeth, he kneels down and leans over the edge.]
Hello? Are you the thing they call "it"? What is it you don't understand? Can I teach you?
[Hey, on four hours of sleep at best, it seemed like a good idea.]
C: rambling into the void (near-fall optional)
[He keeps talking to the thing, when he isn't keeping someone else company.]
I hear your invitation. For...some meaning of "hear". I can't accept it. I- I know you must think I'm one of the easy targets. I have so little left to lose, after all. It makes a lot of sense, sometimes. Taking this risk. But- don't ask me how, but you remind me of a demon. I can't be sure I won't be turned into a weapon against the people I love again. No offense to you. It's only...what's the phrase. I heard a good one somewhere. "Once bitten"...?
(Optional prompt:)
[Perhaps he is unlucky - perhaps he is leaning over the edge just as two more inches of floor disappear. He yelps and twists, catching himself on the edge and hauling himself out, grabbing any offered hand to help if available. He looks back at the now-wider hole, eyes dilated.]
That wasn't - do you think it was reacting to me?