Russ (hauntsome) wrote in repose, @ 2018-02-16 21:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, burden bell, james warner |
Who: James W. & Misha B.
What: Meeting a friend of a friend
Where: The Carnival - After hours
When: February 16 - Evening
Warnings/Rating: Low
Status: Complete
This wasn’t cold.
He could remember being cold. Freezing. The snow had been thick in January; once pure and untouched became littered with boot prints and bloodstains. He could see them vividly, that ringing had not gone away. This air was crisp, the touch of winter glanced the swells of his cheeks as one might a lover as if to coax him back into the darkness. He wouldn’t go without a fight, not again. Not so soon after coming back here.
As sharp as that wind was he inhaled it. A sputtering cough but it was something something more than he’d felt in seventy three years and he felt not a day over twenty five. It was interesting what time could do when you were dead. He’d spent the years of his confinement too caught up in escape to notice the shift in the time. Sam had always be there on the cusp of reality - so close and always so far away. And now he simply was.
Touching Nilus for the first time ... robust teardrops coursed their way down his cheeks. James felt overwhelmed with emotion. He could finally touch the man he’d yearned for all of these years.
James had wandered out on his own. The Carnival had frightened and fascinated him at the same time. He’d seen things like it back home but the acts weren’t exactly the same. Why should they be?
Taking comfort in the hard seat of a dark, dead rollercoaster car parked at the bottom of the platform James sniffled. He wiped at his streaming eyes with desperate fingers. He felt lonely out in the dark but far more real than he had in a while. He could hear the sound of his own heart in his ears and for once that steady lub dub overpowered that squeal of the bombs. The sounds of the screams.