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Post by HELENA PARRISH on Aug 27, 2015 2:31:44 GMT
it's just another day with another perpetual sunset painting the sky warm colours to helena, when she lands ass first on the pavement of a cracked road. her eyes dart towards the clocktower in the centre of the city that can - somehow - be viewed from everywhere.
the roman numerals printed on the clock don't tell her anything about the time and only give her faint hints about where she is and how long she has until the ground gives way below her. she has enough time to get out of this section safe and generally unharmed by herself.
emphasis on 'by herself' because before she can even take her first step, someone hits the ground behind her, she turns sharply to see the other person.
"fucking hell," she states, somewhat emotionless, despite the anger and hate building in the pit of her stomach.
GRIFFIN BAILEY
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Post by GRIFFIN BAILEY on Aug 27, 2015 2:49:00 GMT
[googlefont="Roboto Mono"] His teeth chatter - there's an audible crack when he lands, but no pain shoots up his jaw, no bruiselike ache where he hits the ground. Discomfort, because the ground is knobby and the smell is noxious - but no pain. He notices this dully as he looks around. This world is smoldering and cracked - everything looks equal parts decaying and seething with energy. He sits back, his fingers digging into the gravel as he leans back, craning his neck to look up at the woman. "Top of the morning to you too." Griffin scowls, running a tongue over his teeth, satisfied to feel them all in place. HELENA PARRISH
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Post by HELENA PARRISH on Aug 27, 2015 3:35:59 GMT
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Post by GRIFFIN BAILEY on Aug 28, 2015 2:04:45 GMT
[googlefont="Roboto Mono"] she offers a hand, and griffin stares. his eyes drift upwards. in a landscape of fire and fumes, she is icy and resolute. he bristles a little bit, not angry as much as playing tough, standing without her aid and brushing himself off, tugging his hat down snugly on his head. "go where?" there doesn't seem to be much to go to here. everything about him is unrushed, nonchalant. HELENA PARRISH
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Post by HELENA PARRISH on Aug 28, 2015 14:04:10 GMT
she just looks at him, not judgmental or exasperated or annoyed in the slightest. it's a sort of blank stare, deadpan if anything. she takes back her hand (miffed slightly, but not enough to show it outwardly) and points in the direction of the clock tower.
"over there," she says.
before he can ask why, like she knows he probably wants too, the ground gives way a few feet away from them. it leaves a large gap in the ground and the light of the lava seems to make the hole bigger.
"and that's why," she states.
she starts speed-walking towards the clock tower. if he follows, he follows; if he doesn't, she hasn't put enough distance between them to make it impossible for her to turn around and drag him to the clock tower.
GRIFFIN BAILEY
(i had 2 tabs open, a fresh posting page and my previous post to take the code from. you can guess how my punchline goes.)
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Post by GRIFFIN BAILEY on Aug 29, 2015 21:23:37 GMT
[googlefont="Roboto Mono"] he looks up at the looming clock tower - it doesn't seem to be counting time in that menial, safe way that clocks do. it seems to be counting down. griffin's mouth opens in a perfect circle as he watches the ground collapse into itself like a sinkhole. except the whole is bubbling and steaming. it's funny, he thinks, that lava looks so harmless and cool. when griffin looks back over to the woman, she's already walking away. he hurries after her. "nice place." he says once he's fallen into step by her side. "s'it yours?" HELENA PARRISHquote or die
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Post by HELENA PARRISH on Aug 30, 2015 15:37:52 GMT
she speeds up her pace when he hurries after her. she gaze flits over to him for the briefest moment before focusing on the road ahead. she can hear the crumbling behind them, she doesn't spare it a glance. as if it's not the thing they should be afraid of.
nice place, he says.
she murmurs something in welsh under her breath - a swear translated through the use of google by a past friend. she only remembers it because welsh is weird and so was her friend.
"yeah," she says. "pretty nice for hell ain't it."
GRIFFIN BAILEY
(guess i've been dead since forever then.)
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Post by GRIFFIN BAILEY on Aug 30, 2015 16:19:12 GMT
[googlefont="Roboto Mono"] she doesn't seem the least bit unnerved - griffin tries to do the same, though he can't help but glance over his shoulder at the ground falling into itself behind them. "sorry?" his voice gets loud because he's trying to sound tough again - he isn't sure exactly what she said, but he approximates it to something rude. the indignation doesn't last. griffin snorts. "i've always though hell would have more... demons and stuff." HELENA PARRISHsounds like u need.................................................... A JUMPSTART TO THE HEART
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Post by HELENA PARRISH on Aug 31, 2015 12:19:36 GMT
she shakes her head at him, she's not repeating herself. it was a pointless insult anyway, it'll just get him mad and the last thing she wants is a mad kid running around her world.
"you haven't seen the residents," she says.
it occurs to helena that no one will see the residents as demons except her, but she decides it doesn't really care.
they touch down on the road circling the clock tower, just as the last spot they were standing gives way and leaves a gaping hole right behind them. and - as if on cue - one of the residents of glyndŵr shuffles by, helena calls out to them and they turn.
parts of his face are marred by burn scars while other parts are just burned off. while his clothing is untouched, you can see the burn scars along his arms and legs under his t-shirt and shorts, where she's sure it's worse, but she's never bothered to take clothes of any of the citizens here. it's not a pretty sight, helena knows, she used to get sick every time she saw a citizen.
"did you need something?" he asks.
helena glances at the other boy and then back to the citizen, "he's new here."
the guy's eyes light up and he turns to the other boy and holds out a scarred and scorched hand, "welcome to glyndŵr. don't mind the scenery, we're nicer than hell."
GRIFFIN BAILEY
(GET OUT)
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Post by GRIFFIN BAILEY on Sept 1, 2015 23:57:22 GMT
[googlefont="Roboto Mono"] the walk isn't far, or they're maybe she's just leading him quickly. they're almost at the clock tower when one of the residents turns. his face is an abstract painting of charred black and blistering red and... missing parts. his skin is sinewy and charred. griffin's stomach turns. he's never thought himself squeamish, but he has to avert his eyes a moment, settle them on a point on the horizon just beside what's left of the man's face. this entire place is like some apocalyptic video game setting - and the residents look like something you're supposed to shoot. the man's voice is a little raspy, but shockingly human. it's not contagious. griffin scratches the side of his face, a little uneasy, but he takes his hand (with a half a mind the arm will come away in his handshake). he gives a little cough. "uh, i'm... uh, sure." he looks over at helena expectantly, as if waiting to see what this nice part is. when he lets go, griffin makes a conscious effort not to wipe his hand on his jeans, because that would be rude and he's not feeling particularly insolent in a place like this, HELENA PARRISHB)
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