realityshifted | (no subject)

[604 sits transfixed. He's out on the plane, in a chair, and stiffly hunched over. His face is twisted into a deep scowl; his teeth are practically bared. In his hands is a picture frame, though by now the glass has shattered, and the frame itself has warped. The words on it, taunting him in a manner he doesn't understand, remain. Written on the picture, not the glass.

The air crackles, and electricity arcs from one of his shoulders.]

You...

[Who? He knows them. Doesn't. He's not sure and the confusion that's settled in, nesting with the fury that has seized him. Truth be told, he's roiling with conflicting emotions, as in that sea of fury and confusion lurks terror. And he doesn't understand that either. Fury directed towards one man, terror... for? - he's not sure if it's for or from - the younger man.]

Who the FUCK are you?

[604 wants to kill one, protect the other from- he doesn't know. He growls lowly; his clenched teeth slip and bite into his tongue. 604 spits his own blood onto the floor without thinking.]

Does- doesn't matter. [He mutters to himself.] Touch him and you're dead. I'll rip you apart. I'll flay you alive.

[Thunder rolls and a downpour begins on the plane. 604 doesn't move, and continues to stare down at the picture.]

No, no, it doesn't mean any- anything. It's just a picture. Just- jesus.

[He wishes he understood why he was afraid.]

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[Christopher shakes his head, then looks at Nathan.]

Which do you want to protect, and which ought I kill on sight?

[He spits blood again. Damn, must've bit hard. But he points to the one with long brown hair.]

Don't touch him. I have no fucking idea who he is, but I'm pretty sure if I find him dead and you're nosing around, I'll rip you apart.

[Then the other man, with the white in his hair.]

Him? I don't give a fuck about.

As you command! [And he smiles cheerful at Nathan. (He doesn't know why. He doesn't realize his behaviour is shifting. He just doesn't think about it.)]

[604 nods and turns the picture back to himself. Down on his leg.]

You remember fuck-all too?

[The rain is cool, but he doesn't mind.] Apparently. [Not bothered by it. At all.]

[His hair starts to stick to his face from being wet.]

Yeah.

[604 looks the man over and sniffs derisively.]

604. You?

1008.

This is some fucking bullshit, huh, 1008? I mean. We got shit to do, right?

Do we? What?

[He hasn't had any orders. So he doesn't have anything to do.]

[604 shrugs.]

I have no fucking idea. I mean, there's killing that one guy who I don't know the name of but who the fuck knows if he's here. So that- that might not be... an option.

He might be here hiding... [He really has no idea. Lost and waiting.]

Could check all the floors. I haven't bothered with most of those motherfuckers. Was writ- writing.

[Huh?] Writing?

Yeah. Just some shit I couldn't get out of my head, you know? I thought if I... [His voice takes that slow, quiet, deliberate tone he gets when he starts to feel a little stupid saying things.] ...wrote them down I'd stop thinking about them.

That they might be outside of your head instead of inside of it. [It makes sense to 1008. But then, 1008 is probably insane.]

[604 nods.]

It didn't work, but, uh, I guess I have wallpaper now. So there's... that.

Oh! Can I see?

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... sure?

[604 stands up from his now also soaked chair. The picture clatters to the floor but he quickly stoops to pick it up. His. He needs this. For reasons. It's very important.]

Come on, I guess.

[1008 tries to shake some of the rain out of his hair before following along.]

[So he heads back to his room, 1008 in tow. He pretty much kicks open the door because that's the kind of mood he is. It's worth noting his room is pretty soaked.]

Sorry. It, uh, it's kind of a wreck in here. Don't feel like fixing it though so I guess this is how it's staying.

Edited (italic.) 2012-10-27 02:15 (UTC)

[He doesn't seem to mind the mess.] You made it rain here, too.

[604 shrugs.]

No idea what's up with that, by the way.

[He points to the pages covering the walls.]

If you wanna read them.

[Then he sits on the bed which is sort of unpleasant because it squishes as he does it. Then again he's already soaking wet. Makes no difference.]

[Christopher does, curiously reading the words and trying to understand them.]

[The are, of course, all Dethklok song lyrics. Every single page.]

Like I said. Wallpaper.

I like them. [Just absent noted. Well, he is a bit morbid.]

Yeah, they're okay I guess. I'll probably burn them or something when they dry out.

[He shrugs. No fucks given.]

[He glances back.] Why?