There's a hustle of bodies behind the massive black curtain. Demon stage hands whose form takes no more complex a shape than silhouette. All that's needed are feet to walk upon and hands to move, pulling the prop wall back into a recess behind stage, clearing the light filters in time for the next performance. And of chief importance; banishing the dead act so that new players may be tormented. This isn't real. This isn't real. The blood scent in her nose isn't real and Connecticut is alive across stage.
She won't let herself fall.
The world sways.
She won't.
Carolina's knees buckle. She drops to one knee, hand pressed against the stage and forcing herself upright. Her limbs take on the weight of a Pelican. She teeters the way an old building does before it comes down in a cloud of dust and debris. Her brain is torpid, functioning far beneath its usual standard.
Cold, disembodied hands latch under her arms and begin to force her off-stage.
The same hands grope CT senselessly, dragging her.
A savage growl tears through Carolina's throat. They don't know her. They have no grace in the way they slip fingers under false armor, in the way they yank. This isn't real. Connecticut is alive and this isn't real and no matter how many times she tells herself this she can't swallow down the panic. Carolina shoulders furiously out of the collective's grip and staggers her way toward Connecticut.
no subject
There's a hustle of bodies behind the massive black curtain. Demon stage hands whose form takes no more complex a shape than silhouette. All that's needed are feet to walk upon and hands to move, pulling the prop wall back into a recess behind stage, clearing the light filters in time for the next performance. And of chief importance; banishing the dead act so that new players may be tormented. This isn't real. This isn't real. The blood scent in her nose isn't real and Connecticut is alive across stage.
She won't let herself fall.
The world sways.
She won't.
Carolina's knees buckle. She drops to one knee, hand pressed against the stage and forcing herself upright. Her limbs take on the weight of a Pelican. She teeters the way an old building does before it comes down in a cloud of dust and debris. Her brain is torpid, functioning far beneath its usual standard.
Cold, disembodied hands latch under her arms and begin to force her off-stage.
The same hands grope CT senselessly, dragging her.
A savage growl tears through Carolina's throat. They don't know her. They have no grace in the way they slip fingers under false armor, in the way they yank. This isn't real. Connecticut is alive and this isn't real and no matter how many times she tells herself this she can't swallow down the panic. Carolina shoulders furiously out of the collective's grip and staggers her way toward Connecticut.
"Get the hell away from her—"