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[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

[Guess who's been wandering the plane since he woke up after the fight with Ryotarou, trying to find a place where people aren't? Okay, more like staggering, but you get the point.

In any case, after several attempted refuges--each abandoned in turn after someone appeared at a distance--Firo has settled on the old theater. He's sitting with his back to the stage under the projector, his feet against the first row of chairs. Healthy he is not. He's shivering non-stop now, his skin unnaturally hot to the touch, his eyes completely unfocused. There's still a massive slash in his clothing where Ryotarou's sword-thing cut him.]

I can't... I won't... not goin' back... don't want to hurt....

Comments

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

[...Ianto really wishes that didn't add up as well as it does.] Are there many of them?

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

[Stares up at the ceiling, looking devastatingly sad.] So many. Never knew there were so many.

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

Were they always there?

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

'course not.

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

So what happened?

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

[Slumping a bit more. Matter-of-fact, if fuzzy.] Well. I killed him, didn't I.

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

...the people?

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

[Fading into a whisper.] Not... them. Him... killed...

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

Who?

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

Szilard... ate them...

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

Who's Szilard?

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

Szilard... Quates... immortal. One of the first.

[He crumples.]

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

[Firo- why do you always do this to him?! Crouching next to Firo now. :|b]

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

[To be fair, he's been doing it to everyone lately. x: He stirs a little, pressing a hand to his stomach as though covering a wound.]

Quates... you bastard....

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

[And this would be Ianto checking his stomach for any wounds.]

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

[Nope! No wounds. But Firo will be grabbing your wrist painfully tight now, Ianto.] You promised me. You promised. What.. what is this...?

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

[Will yanking them back help?] ...what's what?

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

[Prooobably not. D: Other hand goes to Ianto's throat, but his grip seems to be weakening every moment, like the person whose memory he's trapped in is dying.]

You... said... [And his eyes go wide. He lets go of Ianto, puts his hands up defensively.] No! No! [And then he seizes, writhing for a moment before collapsing again.]

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

--Firo? [Crouching again, but keeping as slight distance this time.]

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

[Stirs and coughs, then looks horrified.] Ian..Ianto? That... that guy. I hurt him. I didn't mean to... I couldn't stop...

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

[Looks momentarily confused, before catching on.] He's fine now... was it you?

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

No... yes... I dunno.

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

It was one of those... people?

[immortalmistake.livejournal.com]

[Exhausted nod.]

[damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com]

You don't normally have a problem with them, do you?