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

[mollymocked]

I was about to say I used to be in one, but the reason we disbanded is because one of our own started randomly murdering people, so never mind. You win.

[mellowyellow]

Do I get a prize?

[That isn't a gruesome death? Maybe something to balance that out just a little?]

[mollymocked]

Being right about something is its own reward.

[mellowyellow]

Have you ever been right about something? That's like the worst reward ever.

[mollymocked]

[a pause]

That's fair. I'm usually right and it's rarely come to a good end. Chalk it up to more Beacon-related misery, then.

[mellowyellow]

Don't even get me started on FAIRS.

Was your carnival at least fun before the murder spree?

[mollymocked]

Well, I thought it was. Four copper was a steal to get in. It was definitely worth four gold.

[mellowyellow]

Sounds cheap. That should've been your first clue.

Did you have your own act? I bet you had an act.

[mollymocked]

Actually, no. Never could nail down one. I was more of an intermediary who did fortunes.

[mellowyellow]

Fortunes?

Real fortunes?