ashtreelane: (real estate)
[personal profile] ashtreelane
(Let there be

It's the light that hits first.

It's the warmth second.

It's like staring into the sun, like standing right next to a furnace cranked up to full blast. It wouldn't be, though, if they hadn't come straight from the labyrinthine folds of the house.

Because where they've ended up is all normal. It's just a house like any other. Couches, carpeting, curtains, windows: anyone could live here.

Date: 2006-11-19 02:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
So now must I become a ghost, to sit with the ghosts of the dead, to see my dear brother nevermore

The light burns after days hours weeks in the dark, and Bernard curls into a ball on the floor, shivering, his body not quite registering the warmth yet.

Date: 2006-11-19 02:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Who knows where the roar comes from? It starts, quiet and distant, and surges closer.

It's loud. It's desperate. It's a war-cry. It's a man, a woman, and a god running through a hall. It has no one word for it.

Though when the three of them have come bursting into the room, arms linked, and tripped over a figure on the floor, there are several options they could choose among.

"Ow," elocutes Prometheus, sprawled and winded. "Fuckfuckfuck," he adds.

Date: 2006-11-19 03:05 am (UTC)
watching_you: (Sleeping)
From: [personal profile] watching_you
Next through the door comes a small blonde girl, appearing even smaller than usual due to the way that her shoulders, spine, and arms are all hunched, curved painfully inward in a protective shell.

She raises a hand to cover her eyes and it's painful to look at, that sharp red-on-white of frostbite smeared with blood from split knuckles; her other hand she uses to follow the wall, moving along the room from the doorway until her knees buckle again and she sags. She rests her head against the wall and remains there, very still.

Beneath her breath she's groaning.

Or possibly humming.

It's hard to tell.

Date: 2006-11-19 03:15 am (UTC)
ext_442691: [icon by me] (captioned: american psycho)
From: [identity profile]
Desperate laughter and maddening sobs sound the same for a dizzying, blinding moment. He drops the hammer, raising his numbed hand to shield his squinting eyes from the light. The fingers of the left hand twitch. This all happened--

In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream
within a dream.
a house. --it's not real. It isn't. It isn't.

He gibbers nonsense to himself.

Date: 2006-11-19 03:32 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
And then there's--

(love. there's hope for some.)

-- light. Reality comes crashing back and for a second it threatens to split her open, to fill in the hollow spaces with too much existence.

It's like staring into the sun.

She doesn't blink.

Date: 2006-11-19 03:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
like a like a like
a crash a howl and sulfur from the depths into the



staggering into the light with her arm but it's not there but it was he had her he saved her and she's gone and her blood

her blood is gone it's his own his hands are bleeding fingers scraped to the bone

John staggers into the light dragging a girl who is not there. He stands staring and blinking, blinded, as if he'd never seen a house before.

He says


and slides down the wall to sit on the floor, still staring into hell.

Date: 2006-11-19 04:15 am (UTC)
ladyfirestarter: (in the dark)
From: [personal profile] ladyfirestarter
A red-haired woman and girl stagger together out into the brightness; the woman cries out involuntarily as the light hits her night-blinded eyes, and catches herself on the back of a chair before she falls.

Blinking through the white dazzle, she turns to look left and right. "Bev? Crowley?"

A beat.


Date: 2006-11-19 04:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Bernard sits up, wincing at the bruises left from several somethings tripping over him, and freezes, transfixed at the sight and sound of Bateman and the hammer, the motherfucking hammer, when two redheads, a woman and a young girl, run in and say the name he's been longing to hear.

He scrambles to his feet, ignoring his dizziness, still squinting against the light of the house, and skitters back into the darkness before he knows what he's doing, grabbing Crowley's prone form with the woman's help and hauling him into the light.

They deposit him gently on the floor, and Bernard deliberately places himself between Crowley and Bateman, looking the demon over, his heart sinking, his hands shaking.

"He's hypothermic. Fuck." He looks around at the assembled rag-tag crew. "D-does anyone have. Any. Um. Anything hot. Warm. We have to warm his main body, his torso, up first."

Date: 2006-11-19 04:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Bev stumbles and falls to the floor when she first emerges, and can't do much more than watch as the man (red hair and blue eyes, part of her notes with detached calmness) pull Crowley out into the light.

Then, as he looks around and speaks to them, taking charge, she gets to her feet and moves forward, pulling off her sweater, teenage-girl-sized though it is, and holding it out.

"Is there a fireplace or anything in here?"

Date: 2006-11-19 04:43 am (UTC)
tibetanmethod: (i'll see you and you'll see me)
From: [personal profile] tibetanmethod
Cooper is in the process of shrugging roughly out of his jacket

(he's a demon, he's thinking to himself, it doesn't make sense, logically they ought to be able to generate their own heat)

and he's having to work mostly by sound.

It's so bright.

It's bright, and it's warm, and maybe that explains why he feels numb.

Date: 2006-11-19 04:59 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (ice ice baby)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
Severe hypothermia:

Patient may be unconscious, curled into a foetal position to conserve heat. Skin appears blueish-grey, and pupils are dilated. As the core temperature approaches 90° Fahrenheit, the body tries to move into hibernation. Muscle rigidity develops, as peripheral blood-flow shuts down; this reduces breathing rate, and pulse may be thready and difficult to find.

At a core temperature of 86°, the body is in a state of 'metabolic icebox'. Patient may appear dead.

Date: 2006-11-19 05:09 am (UTC)
ladyfirestarter: (firestarter)
From: [personal profile] ladyfirestarter
There's no fireplace. There's nothing that can be safely set on fire, not without risking burning the whole place down -- and maybe that'd be a good thing, says part of her mind very coldly, but not while we're all still inside it --
(make it so they can never do anything like this again)
but the fire's back, it's back, she doesn't have to test it to know; the firething's leaping up inside her, joyous and fierce and amoral and ready to
(burn it down, Charlie. burn it all down)
be used.

"Hold on," she breathes, and closes her eyes for a moment against the light, and reaches.

The temperature of the air around Crowley, especially around his torso, is climbing smoothly.

Date: 2006-11-19 05:19 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
She should be helping.

They need a fire. Fire is, arguably, what she's best at. Given, she usually favors the more noisy form, but fire she knows.

But it's warm. And there's light. And she can see people again - they aren't disembodied voices in the dark, disappearing and reappearing at random.

Ace isn't helping.

She's over there, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall that evidently had a hole in it a minute ago (and how the hell did that happen, she wants to know), giggling in a somewhat disturbingly giddy manner, very quietly.

Date: 2006-11-19 05:51 am (UTC)
watching_you: (Contrast)
From: [personal profile] watching_you

Hey... there are people around.

When did that happen?

Veronica turns slightly, one hand still blocking the light,
(the other to her chest, holding in the heart that's fighting like a hummingbird trapped in a paper cage)
and breaks off her humming.

"I felt..."

Date: 2006-11-19 05:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
floor vibvibvibraaaaaaaaating

no no no it had stopped he was out in the light

out he had to get out he couldn't do this again and again and again

John scrabbles at the wall he just came through, his raw fingers leaving ragged bloody trails

the evil you know beats the evil you don't
the evil you don't beats the evil inside outside it's all evil and maybe

Date: 2006-11-19 06:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
It was like that, before he brought men their fire. Dark. Helpless. Feeling out for safety, when harm was always just a shadow away. And always that niggling knowledge that somewhere out of sight, immortals were feasting in light and comfort.

It was like that, when he was chained to the mountain. Bound. Helpless. Naked and exposed. Rendered useless, and viciously angry at the fact.

When Herakles took him down from the rock, he could not stand for days and days on end. But then his strength returned, and with it, other things.

It's like that now.

Prometheus feels it, an absence taken away. On his back, he lifts his hands in the air. Fire leaps over his palms and fingers. A dry laugh escapes him. He doesn't register the vibrations in the ground: he thinks it's just him shaking.

"See," he croaks, assuming that woman is listening. "I told you so; I told you so..."

Date: 2006-11-19 06:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
He doesn't notice the vibrations, the dull moan of wood flexing in ways it was never meant to flex. He's too focused on dilated pupils, grey skin, cold cold cold.
protect the friend, keep the comrade safe
But then the entire world explodes, and Bernard looks up too late too late, you're too late for everything as everyone in the room shouts, scrambling for the exits.

Let your voice bellow forth like the kettledrum, let the stiffness in your arms depart,
let the paralysis in your legs go away.
Take my hand, my friend, we will go on together.

With no time to even breathe, Bernard finds strength he never knew he had and grabs his brother, one arm under the knees, one around the shoulders, skidding across the room to a hallway, looking still for the others a kid a kid I saw a child, where is she--

Date: 2006-11-19 06:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Bev's still closest to Charlie, and the two of them grab at each other automatically as they start forward, and Bev tries to look over her shoulder and make sure people are getting up, getting out, but her foot slides into a gap that's opened up and she stumbles and Charlie yanks her back, and the voice that speaks in her mind suddenly sounds like her own, only it's very calm and cold.

Go, Bev. You can't help anyone by hanging back, but you can try to find the way out.

And she's fourteen and light on her feet and she pulls away from Charlie and scrambles out into the hallway and there's a door at the end of it, and she rushes forward, shouting back over her shoulder.

"There's a door this way! Come on!"

Date: 2006-11-19 06:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
fuck the wall fuck the hall fuck the fucking BODIES in the way there's a door somewhere and he's going to find it before the WALLS CAVE IN

and there are redheads everywhere and he bounces off one of them
and falls
and crawls on the floor
to the door there's a door

there's a door a door a door and he throws it open and ...

through the door is the only pub in the multiverse that has never kicked him out

(maybe it did?)

And he's back. And stands. And straightens his tie.

A bloke walks into a Bar.

"Sweet Jesus, I need a drink."

Date: 2006-11-19 07:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh sweet burning stars, he said it. He said it. Why not just add 'Nothing else can possibly go wrong' and 'This will be the best Christmas ever' on top of it, just to make the doom falling upon their heads complete?
A little girl's voice, high and sweet, 'Come away to Java, Ace, I want to send you to Java!'
But there isn't time to think, just barely enough time to get her feet firmly beneath her and launch off the crumbling wall.
We all have a universe of our own fears to face.
Just enough time to tackle the flaming git who triggered this whole mess, pushing him away towards the door with all the momentum one small pyro body can manage.
Yeah, but I face mine on my own terms!
... It's just instinct, really.

Date: 2006-11-19 07:19 am (UTC)
watching_you: (Darkness)
From: [personal profile] watching_you
(i can)

Everything's shaking and falling apart and people are - moving, shouting, shoving - plaster begins to flake down from the ceiling like snow - as if this place needed any more symbols for cold -

(hear the bells all ringing)

Veronica fights to her feet, fights to follow the exodus. Her own legs are unsteady enough, and the floor's shaking certainly isn't helping at all, but somehow she manages by clutching to walls, furniture, anything she can get a hold of.

One thing's for sure.

(joyful and triumphant)

She doesn't look back.


on Ash Tree Lane

January 2007

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