action and text; @bacura

[mellowyellow]

[It's late on the seventh when Masaomi wakes up on a church pew. At first, he can't bring himself to do anything other than stare at his hands. Slowly he raises them above his head, takes in the palms, flips them over, hesitantly touches the backs, slides his fingers down his own arms.

He's whole.

Suddenly, he digs his nails in. It hurts, and he pulls back, leaving harsh red marks. Masaomi sits up then, still staring like he can't believe his own senses.

He's not crying. You're crying.]


[It's not until the eighth that he sends out another text. No ominous snapshots this time.]

Didn't cut it as a carny.

Comments

[knifecollecting]

They compelled you, right? That's not just you.

[That's what it sounds like. She wouldn't say it was really something he wanted to do.]

Could you resist at all? How close were you before you lost control? You don't have to tell me, but it might help the rest of us.

[mellowyellow]

[It's hard for Masaomi to wave it away so easily when he was the one who felt everything. He was the one who wanted to join, the one who wanted to fit in, the one who wanted to destroy himself. If none of that was on him... then what is?]

I got close enough to see the costumes before I started running at them.

If you can see anything, you're already too close.

[knifecollecting]

[Well, crap.]

It wasn't the music?

[mellowyellow]

More like it wasn't just the music.

Or something.

[knifecollecting]

Okay.

thanks for the info.