Will Graham (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mirrortouch) wrote2014-07-27 02:12 am
mirrortouch) wrote2014-07-27 02:12 am
03 | 🕒 | spam
( spam for riddick / open )
[ He stalks Level Two because it has become his territory, the place that belongs to him, of stags and mirrors and something in the air that keeps him primal, sharp, and it shouldn't be something he enjoys but, oh, how it's something he enjoys.
Sometimes, maybe, the wisps of black smoke trailing behind him - frenetically, he constantly keeps checking behind himself for anything, anyone, and it's almost better off in his cell. Where he knows the cracks and he knows the cot and it's slanted and broken now but at least it's better than this, walls of funhouse mirrors that each echo something beastly and unlike himself.
He's upgraded his weapon, from a hanger to a knife won from one of the games a level up. It's difficult to stay out of here too long, the gas in his system; too many bright lights and noises and things crawling, he feels the comfort of the second level as though it's cradling him in his arms. A large mirror shard sits in his other hand, clutched tight enough to let blood pool up underneath his fingers. He gathered the idea from a friend. He's keeping it, for now.
The hall's been quiet, save for the sound of the whispers that surround him - over here, Will, look this way, I can see you - and none of them in his own voice. It's not safe here. The Barge is not safe here, and he can feel it to every fiber.
If he looks a bit deranged as he makes his way down the hall one more time, it's because he hasn't eaten, hasn't slept, hasn't done much but sit and watch and let plans as they are unfold.
It sits sick in his stomach, like a pint of blood. ]
[ He stalks Level Two because it has become his territory, the place that belongs to him, of stags and mirrors and something in the air that keeps him primal, sharp, and it shouldn't be something he enjoys but, oh, how it's something he enjoys.
Sometimes, maybe, the wisps of black smoke trailing behind him - frenetically, he constantly keeps checking behind himself for anything, anyone, and it's almost better off in his cell. Where he knows the cracks and he knows the cot and it's slanted and broken now but at least it's better than this, walls of funhouse mirrors that each echo something beastly and unlike himself.
He's upgraded his weapon, from a hanger to a knife won from one of the games a level up. It's difficult to stay out of here too long, the gas in his system; too many bright lights and noises and things crawling, he feels the comfort of the second level as though it's cradling him in his arms. A large mirror shard sits in his other hand, clutched tight enough to let blood pool up underneath his fingers. He gathered the idea from a friend. He's keeping it, for now.
The hall's been quiet, save for the sound of the whispers that surround him - over here, Will, look this way, I can see you - and none of them in his own voice. It's not safe here. The Barge is not safe here, and he can feel it to every fiber.
If he looks a bit deranged as he makes his way down the hall one more time, it's because he hasn't eaten, hasn't slept, hasn't done much but sit and watch and let plans as they are unfold.
It sits sick in his stomach, like a pint of blood. ]
no man totally aokay 8D
Rather than show fear, Will's mouth twists into a wicked smile and he freely drops the piece of glass onto the ground - it shatters, a broken teacup unable to be pieced together again, and his freed hand reaches up to plant against the top of Riddick's head. ]
Go ahead.
[ He dares, nastily. Getting his throat bitten out wasn't the way he was expecting to go, but it's not as if it matters here. ]
I'd like to see if you're even capable.
Re: no man totally aokay 8D
The guy who taught me gourmet cooking said that human flesh was an irresistible addiction, a craving. Not my experience at all. I've never been that impressed by it, myself-- it's quick protein, but mediocre as a gourmet dish.
But I'm a warden these days. And you need to cool the fuck off. [There's an empty room nearby, the door blank and standard and concealed behind a mirror-- he drags Will toward it.]
no subject
And he laughs as he does, a low chuckle in his throat that probably doesn't help ameliorate the whole 'crazed inmate' image that Riddick has probably superimposed onto him. There's some small part of him that's fully aware of how he's acting right now, but it's completely overcome by the rest of everything else, the overwhelming feeling of his brain on fire again.
It's not unfamiliar. ]
Tell that to my therapist. [ He practically spits his words, and he does struggle a bit then, pushing back against Riddick to little avail. Why an empty room, what's going to happen? ] Long pig, I'm certain it's unlike anything else I've ever tasted.
Cw yet more cannibalism refs
Get over yourselves. [An irritated growl as he plants a boot in Will's back and shoves him into the room. ]
no subject
Funny who they let be the wardens in this place, if your track record is as you say, if you're so much more dangerous than I am.
[ His look sinks more into a glower. ]
The plan? Just going to leave me locked up in here until you see fit?
no subject
And basically yeah, consider this time out.
[He's got a little control back, but he's only hiding the feral urge to kill. It isn't gone. He's forcing his tone to be casual and hoping his hind-brain will get with the program sooner or later.
Will can eventually break out of whatever barricade he sets up, and it makes him itch leaving a loose end like that. ]
no subject
[ Will takes a few steps further towards Riddick and the door, a challenging sort of cockiness to his walk. ]
Struggle. Imagine if I didn't submit. Imagine if I made you kill me.
no subject
You know what, Graham? You've got more free time than me. You fantasize. [He steps back and shuts the door.]
no subject
He merely folds his hands, sets them in his lap, sits on the edge of the bed left in the room.
And he waits. ]
no subject
Fucking barge.]