Post by Sorrows on May 27, 2007 17:43:42 GMT -8
][ Deleted the old IRL Emotional closure for my character. Forgive the long post, but I couldn't help myself once I started. ][
Bly still hung on the verge of consciousness, hardly aware of anything at all. His breathing was slowing and his vision was blurred.
He watched three figures move past him, each in turn.
Wait for me.. Michael.. Kris..
Huh? Who were they? No recognition dawned on his face.
He suddenly felt a dire need to move, as if that alone was very important for some reason, but why?
Move! Move!!
His whole body felt tired and numb, like he'd just run for miles and miles without stopping.
Get up! They still need you!
He put a hand against the snowy ground, struggling to reach his feet.
Get on your feet.. Stand up!
He leaned against the wall with all his weight, the only thing keeping him up. He pushed off, stumbling forward.
Move.. Legs, move..
What were legs?
Forward.. Still.. Need..
His feet dragged against the ground as he moved. Suddenly, his stride caught midstep and his body pitched forward, landing unhindered into the snowy grass, not even half a dozen paces from where he started. He didn't make it very far.
The cold that filled his lungs as he breathed into the frozen water, face-down against the snow, slowly brought back his senses, though not his strength. Pushing himself up onto his knees, he shook his head, trying to clear his vision. His head hurt, but he didn't bother to think about pain right now. He reached his feet with no little effort and moved back into the school. His eyes scanned the area as he moved through it.. What had happened while he was out of it? Where was everyone. He stumbled through the door, wandering slowly in the most immediate direction.
He stumbled into an open doorway, his shoulders forcibly striking the doorframe. He rest there, his limbs just finding their warmth and strength again. He raised his head from his chest just in time to see Kris run into Kenny. He was behind Kris, so he didn't see what had happened until Kris fell forward, holding his stomach. Something about the image made Bly forget about every tired and hurt. The accusing eyes of Kris as he fell stuck Bly like daggers, speaking of his own helplessness to help his new friend.
The scene outside the gym at the beginning of the night flashed before his eyes, Kris trying to comfort Bly, Bly barely acknowledging him. It all struck home in one moment, as if remembering it for the first time made it real. The tears that blurred his vision now were originally for his friend, but now intensified to a bloodrage.
One moment he was looking at the image of Kenny's back becoming increasingly closer, and the next he was standing atop a irrecognizable figure inheriting a blood-stained Varsity jacket.
Bly was panting hard, but not from exhaustion. The first thing that entered his mind when he regained consciousness was an inquenchable bloodthirst for the ruined face he stood over. Once that thought processed Bly fell back with an audible scream of suprise, frantically crawling backwards hand over hand, unable to take his eyes off of Kenny's ruined form. He was still breathing, but that face would never seduce anyone ever again.
The only recognizable feeling that Bly had was Fear. Fear of himself, of what had happened and what would have happened if he hadn't snapped to.
He looked around slowly, his mind still in shock, and his eyes rested on Kris, who hadn't yet moved from where he fell what seemed a lifetime ago. Bly crawled over towards him, hardly aware of the dry and new tears that streaked his cheeks.
His hand found Kris' shoulder as he attempted to shake the fallen comrade alive. "..K..Kris," came a ragged voice. "Kris, get up.. You're alright.. You can't be..."
Bly still hung on the verge of consciousness, hardly aware of anything at all. His breathing was slowing and his vision was blurred.
He watched three figures move past him, each in turn.
Wait for me.. Michael.. Kris..
Huh? Who were they? No recognition dawned on his face.
He suddenly felt a dire need to move, as if that alone was very important for some reason, but why?
Move! Move!!
His whole body felt tired and numb, like he'd just run for miles and miles without stopping.
Get up! They still need you!
He put a hand against the snowy ground, struggling to reach his feet.
Get on your feet.. Stand up!
He leaned against the wall with all his weight, the only thing keeping him up. He pushed off, stumbling forward.
Move.. Legs, move..
What were legs?
Forward.. Still.. Need..
His feet dragged against the ground as he moved. Suddenly, his stride caught midstep and his body pitched forward, landing unhindered into the snowy grass, not even half a dozen paces from where he started. He didn't make it very far.
The cold that filled his lungs as he breathed into the frozen water, face-down against the snow, slowly brought back his senses, though not his strength. Pushing himself up onto his knees, he shook his head, trying to clear his vision. His head hurt, but he didn't bother to think about pain right now. He reached his feet with no little effort and moved back into the school. His eyes scanned the area as he moved through it.. What had happened while he was out of it? Where was everyone. He stumbled through the door, wandering slowly in the most immediate direction.
He stumbled into an open doorway, his shoulders forcibly striking the doorframe. He rest there, his limbs just finding their warmth and strength again. He raised his head from his chest just in time to see Kris run into Kenny. He was behind Kris, so he didn't see what had happened until Kris fell forward, holding his stomach. Something about the image made Bly forget about every tired and hurt. The accusing eyes of Kris as he fell stuck Bly like daggers, speaking of his own helplessness to help his new friend.
The scene outside the gym at the beginning of the night flashed before his eyes, Kris trying to comfort Bly, Bly barely acknowledging him. It all struck home in one moment, as if remembering it for the first time made it real. The tears that blurred his vision now were originally for his friend, but now intensified to a bloodrage.
One moment he was looking at the image of Kenny's back becoming increasingly closer, and the next he was standing atop a irrecognizable figure inheriting a blood-stained Varsity jacket.
Bly was panting hard, but not from exhaustion. The first thing that entered his mind when he regained consciousness was an inquenchable bloodthirst for the ruined face he stood over. Once that thought processed Bly fell back with an audible scream of suprise, frantically crawling backwards hand over hand, unable to take his eyes off of Kenny's ruined form. He was still breathing, but that face would never seduce anyone ever again.
The only recognizable feeling that Bly had was Fear. Fear of himself, of what had happened and what would have happened if he hadn't snapped to.
He looked around slowly, his mind still in shock, and his eyes rested on Kris, who hadn't yet moved from where he fell what seemed a lifetime ago. Bly crawled over towards him, hardly aware of the dry and new tears that streaked his cheeks.
His hand found Kris' shoulder as he attempted to shake the fallen comrade alive. "..K..Kris," came a ragged voice. "Kris, get up.. You're alright.. You can't be..."