5 ❧ though the pressure's hard to take, it's the only way I can escape
[ A | Home; locked to housemates
The first thing Mami does when she bolts awake, early in the first morning after the broadcast, is scream.
It's a blind reaction, instinctive; a shriek of utter terror as her mind is flooded with the memory of teeth closing in and snapping shut. Her hands dart up to her throat, fingertips slipping disbelievingly against smooth and unbroken skin. The swallowing darkness has abated, and there's no searing pain - just instead, all too soon, an overwhelming despair. For the truth can be as cruel as it is absolute, and any self-protective attempt at denial is laughably weak in the face of it; these feelings and memories refuse to be brushed aside as a mere nightmare.
Mami is dead. Somehow, impossibly, she breathes - but she's dead. Despite all her struggles, her fragile hopes and buried idealism.....against that Witch, they came to nothing. Absolutely nothing.
A low moan of unfathomable grief fills her throat, pours helplessly out into the chilly air of her room. It's a wounded sound that peaks into sobs, subsides into whimpers and then silence. Mami's eyes go glassy - in this moment, she's broken under the weight of what she remembers, a realization that's almost too painful to comprehend. She curls into herself, a vulnerable bundle of limbs and loose yellow hair. Going still, quiet, paralyzed in such a defeated position until something rouses her - the presence of another, or some impulse of purpose strong enough to shatter this crushing unreality.]
[ B | Church; evening
The day is drawing to a close, ushering in a winter's night for the residents of Mayfield. It's a time when one can expect most people to be found heading home rather than lingering about outside, where it's even darker and colder than the loss of electrical power could have hoped to achieve. Yet all the same, there are signs of activity if one knows where to look - or, in this case, listen.
From behind the church comes some rather unusual sounds, muffled and intermittent as they are: a metallic clanging, the thunderous boom of gunshots. Those who follow these noises with a certain measure of stealth and caution past the building and through the trees will be able to make out the brilliant sparks of metal striking metal. Two figures, both moving too fast for the human eye to follow - one adorned in dark blue and almost impossible to see in the fading light, the other slightly more visible thanks to a more forgiving color scheme of tawny browns and yellows.]
ooc: let me know in the subject lines/somehow for option B if you would prefer a 3way thread with mami and ciel, otherwise there will be two separate threads to make it easier! o7
The first thing Mami does when she bolts awake, early in the first morning after the broadcast, is scream.
It's a blind reaction, instinctive; a shriek of utter terror as her mind is flooded with the memory of teeth closing in and snapping shut. Her hands dart up to her throat, fingertips slipping disbelievingly against smooth and unbroken skin. The swallowing darkness has abated, and there's no searing pain - just instead, all too soon, an overwhelming despair. For the truth can be as cruel as it is absolute, and any self-protective attempt at denial is laughably weak in the face of it; these feelings and memories refuse to be brushed aside as a mere nightmare.
Mami is dead. Somehow, impossibly, she breathes - but she's dead. Despite all her struggles, her fragile hopes and buried idealism.....against that Witch, they came to nothing. Absolutely nothing.
A low moan of unfathomable grief fills her throat, pours helplessly out into the chilly air of her room. It's a wounded sound that peaks into sobs, subsides into whimpers and then silence. Mami's eyes go glassy - in this moment, she's broken under the weight of what she remembers, a realization that's almost too painful to comprehend. She curls into herself, a vulnerable bundle of limbs and loose yellow hair. Going still, quiet, paralyzed in such a defeated position until something rouses her - the presence of another, or some impulse of purpose strong enough to shatter this crushing unreality.]
[ B | Church; evening
The day is drawing to a close, ushering in a winter's night for the residents of Mayfield. It's a time when one can expect most people to be found heading home rather than lingering about outside, where it's even darker and colder than the loss of electrical power could have hoped to achieve. Yet all the same, there are signs of activity if one knows where to look - or, in this case, listen.
From behind the church comes some rather unusual sounds, muffled and intermittent as they are: a metallic clanging, the thunderous boom of gunshots. Those who follow these noises with a certain measure of stealth and caution past the building and through the trees will be able to make out the brilliant sparks of metal striking metal. Two figures, both moving too fast for the human eye to follow - one adorned in dark blue and almost impossible to see in the fading light, the other slightly more visible thanks to a more forgiving color scheme of tawny browns and yellows.]
ooc: let me know in the subject lines/somehow for option B if you would prefer a 3way thread with mami and ciel, otherwise there will be two separate threads to make it easier! o7