Flynn Carsen [The Librarian - Movieverse] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cahooted) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindrpg2018-12-02 10:51 pm
cahooted) wrote in snowblindrpg2018-12-02 10:51 pm
Entry tags:
[log] The Iceman Cometh [closed]
Characters: Flynn Carsen, Mycroft Holmes (Anomaly)
Location: Res 1
Date: Day 425
Summary: Cabin fever comes knocking at the door and Flynn tries to switch houses on his own. It's a bad idea.
Warnings: broken bones, illness, death, hallucinations, body horror, frostbite, freezing to death, hypothermia, mood manipulation, potential cannibalism
He knows he should wait for Bucky or Peter or literally anyone willing to help him out. People are on their way, he knows, but he lost so many days already and it's hard to tell what today even is anymore. He sleeps most of the time, tired from the pain, he's so tired. How much longer? Did he just talk to John about his strange plant anomaly self? Was that yesterday?
It's all a blur which is strange, he should know this. He probably has a fever, he realizes. Sometimes it's really warm, then he's shivering. It's annoying.
And one day it's just one too many and the cabin fever hits him, meshing with the ache in his bones and the throbbing in his leg and the sadness in his heart. There are voices whispering in the air, Jerry, laughing at him, there's Nicole's face before it is lost in the explosion, there's Wilde and he stakes him with the Spear and that's probably where the pain is coming from and Flynn can't handle this, can't deal with this. He knows this will only get worse and if he doesn't move now he might run outside (or crawl, rather) without a plan eventually.
No, if he wants to do this he has to do it now. Today. It's his best shot, maybe his only shot. The next house is so close, he can see it from the window. It shouldn't even take him an hour, if he could just bring himself to move.
He can leave most of his stuff, too, just make it over there and wait again until someone gets to him, then they can come back and pick it up later.
It still takes him forever to bundle up and he can feel a deep reluctance, an unwillingness to move, it's so exhausting to move. He's muttering quietly under his breath, talking to himself, a babbly litany of all the things in this town that he hates. It's a long list.
He grunts in pain, using his crowbar as a crutch and hobbles forward, over to the door and pulls it open.
Location: Res 1
Date: Day 425
Summary: Cabin fever comes knocking at the door and Flynn tries to switch houses on his own. It's a bad idea.
Warnings: broken bones, illness, death, hallucinations, body horror, frostbite, freezing to death, hypothermia, mood manipulation, potential cannibalism
He knows he should wait for Bucky or Peter or literally anyone willing to help him out. People are on their way, he knows, but he lost so many days already and it's hard to tell what today even is anymore. He sleeps most of the time, tired from the pain, he's so tired. How much longer? Did he just talk to John about his strange plant anomaly self? Was that yesterday?
It's all a blur which is strange, he should know this. He probably has a fever, he realizes. Sometimes it's really warm, then he's shivering. It's annoying.
And one day it's just one too many and the cabin fever hits him, meshing with the ache in his bones and the throbbing in his leg and the sadness in his heart. There are voices whispering in the air, Jerry, laughing at him, there's Nicole's face before it is lost in the explosion, there's Wilde and he stakes him with the Spear and that's probably where the pain is coming from and Flynn can't handle this, can't deal with this. He knows this will only get worse and if he doesn't move now he might run outside (or crawl, rather) without a plan eventually.
No, if he wants to do this he has to do it now. Today. It's his best shot, maybe his only shot. The next house is so close, he can see it from the window. It shouldn't even take him an hour, if he could just bring himself to move.
He can leave most of his stuff, too, just make it over there and wait again until someone gets to him, then they can come back and pick it up later.
It still takes him forever to bundle up and he can feel a deep reluctance, an unwillingness to move, it's so exhausting to move. He's muttering quietly under his breath, talking to himself, a babbly litany of all the things in this town that he hates. It's a long list.
He grunts in pain, using his crowbar as a crutch and hobbles forward, over to the door and pulls it open.
no subject
There's darkness closing in at the edge of his vision.
He wants to think of good things, of his friends, of Nicole, of his mom, Judson and Charlene, of the Library... but they just won't come. All that's left is the cold, that bottomless bitterness suffocating him, pressing down on his mind in his last moments. He's so lonely. He's so sad. He's terrified of Mycroft's promise of doing it again should he return. Maybe he won't return. Maybe he shouldn't return.
"Don't think I'd feel it."
no subject
"And you're still clinging to the notion that you're in any way important?" There's a scoff, the footsteps crunching in the frost.
"Death does not care whether you've fought real villains. Death comes when it wants. Often when you'd least expect it."
He reaches out to pat Flynn on the shoulder.
"So good. I hope you are truly disappointed by this."
no subject
Flynn doesn't want to die, not like this, so alone, and he tries to say something but when Mycroft touches his shoulder even that last ounce of defiance rushes out of him. A weak, strangled sound escapes him, the ice freezing his upper body, crawling up his neck and over his face. The desolate feeling burrows into his head, filling it out entirely.
And you're still clinging to the notion that you're in any way important?
No. He's not. Maybe he used to be, once, but it's all gone now. And he knows the rules.
There's only ever one Librarian in the world. When he dies the next one takes over.
"I don't..." His voice is faint, barely a whisper, almost inaudible in the whirling snow and cracking of the ice.
He tries to look up but his eyes are unfocused, the light in them dimming, slowly going out.
"I'm..."
no subject
Frozen, just like this world.
"You aren't important, Mr. Carsen. I'm afraid that's a rather painful lesson to learn, and seemingly, the last one you may ever learn."
He admires the way the ice freezes over him. It's too bad he probably can't eat him, even if he is hungry. Some sort of after-effect, a remnant echo of his old human body. If they really even were human to begin with at all.
"If you return, I'll be waiting for you."
no subject
There's a final exhale, a sort of mute sigh. His chin sinks down on his chest, his eyes breaking, before the ice covers him entirely, engulfing his body.