[ Dark and immaterial. A form that isn't a form. A form that can almost but not quite be touched. A feeling like pins and needles. A fear of the light. ]
A. in the tunnels, anywhere (anomaly)
[ The tunnels are what he needs, right now. Dark and cold and featureless, like Royce, easy to navigate. House was right, he keeps muttering to himself as he shudder-jerks his way down through the tunnels - on the ceiling, wispy and solid all in one. He can't quite get his hands on the walls. On anybody, anything. He has to find Alfie, find Gabriel, find Ecks - find Flynn, maybe. Flynn was concerned before. He should find Flynn.
But he loses that thought near immediately. He drags himself along the ceiling slowly, laboriously, and sometimes, he feels his fingers touch the metal. It is enough. He's still here. He wants to be here, and maybe - maybe if he finds someone, he can steal them. Take them in. Make them part of him and be solid. He can't hold onto anything anymore and it hurts.
It looks like a cloak, almost, or maybe a manta ray with long, brittle, shadow-black claws scraping into the ceiling as it drags itself along. The tail can't stop moving, whipping around like wind is blowing through it. Disjointed legs judder out at strange angles, trying to find purchase and failing. It's loud. There's no way to hide, not with how static-y shadows curl out around it, not with how the distant, otherworldly sound of sobs carry down the hallway. And at one point, it falls from the ceiling into a heap, and half of it disperses - the other half melts into the ground, looking all the world like the remains of something half-eaten.
Maybe it -- maybe he just needs to find something that can give him the rest of his shape back. Something he can drag down into the dark with him. ]
B. in the houses (human)
[ And then there's this one. This one shivers as he wakes, sore and cold. He knows Alfie should be close by. Ecks, too. Where - he reaches out, patting, trying to find him, trying to figure out what's going on. He coughs a bit, dizzily trying to reorient himself. ]
cw: depersonalization, body horror, potential cannibalism
A. in the tunnels, anywhere (anomaly)
[ The tunnels are what he needs, right now. Dark and cold and featureless, like Royce, easy to navigate. House was right, he keeps muttering to himself as he shudder-jerks his way down through the tunnels - on the ceiling, wispy and solid all in one. He can't quite get his hands on the walls. On anybody, anything. He has to find Alfie, find Gabriel, find Ecks - find Flynn, maybe. Flynn was concerned before. He should find Flynn.
But he loses that thought near immediately. He drags himself along the ceiling slowly, laboriously, and sometimes, he feels his fingers touch the metal. It is enough. He's still here. He wants to be here, and maybe - maybe if he finds someone, he can steal them. Take them in. Make them part of him and be solid. He can't hold onto anything anymore and it hurts.
It looks like a cloak, almost, or maybe a manta ray with long, brittle, shadow-black claws scraping into the ceiling as it drags itself along. The tail can't stop moving, whipping around like wind is blowing through it. Disjointed legs judder out at strange angles, trying to find purchase and failing. It's loud. There's no way to hide, not with how static-y shadows curl out around it, not with how the distant, otherworldly sound of sobs carry down the hallway. And at one point, it falls from the ceiling into a heap, and half of it disperses - the other half melts into the ground, looking all the world like the remains of something half-eaten.
Maybe it -- maybe he just needs to find something that can give him the rest of his shape back. Something he can drag down into the dark with him. ]
B. in the houses (human)
[ And then there's this one. This one shivers as he wakes, sore and cold. He knows Alfie should be close by. Ecks, too. Where - he reaches out, patting, trying to find him, trying to figure out what's going on. He coughs a bit, dizzily trying to reorient himself. ]