Wendy (darkestlove) wrote in deceptpercep, @ 2010-01-18 02:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | ☥ gunslingers, ✏ 7: saturday |
Who: Wyatt Darklove. (Open?)
When: Week ten, Saturday afternoon.
Where: The Darkloves' house in Silver City.
What: Wyatt finally realizes that the voices he's been hearing are very much real and not just a figment of his imagination or the result of damaged hearing.
Rating & Warnings: G
He'd been cleared from any damage sustained to his hearing during the mission, but it still didn't solve the issue. While the eighteen year old in him wanted to laugh at the despicable idea that he, out of all people, would be the one to hear voices, the cynical gunslinger he'd been raised to be quite clearly acknowledged the possibility. After all, this was Inora, where nothing was impossible and where nothing was too crazy - a fact he was getting used to rapidly. But he still wanted to hold on to the faint hope that this was just a twisted thing his mind had come up with to help him cope with the aftermath of being shot and as a result, almost dying. If the prospect of death had the ability to make even the most hardened criminals fess up to crimes, and if a near-death experience had the ability to make people's personality do a 180 degree turn, then there was really no telling what it could have done to him, right? It were the little things that tripped him up and made him suspect. One afternoon, when he'd been alone in the house, a not so gentle voice had roused him from his thoughts and what for? Because the kettle's whistle had been blowing. A little later, as he made ready to leave the living room, that same voice chastised him for not turning off the television. Suspicions of a possible prank had led him to his brothers, who only patted him on the shoulder and said certain half-assed words of comfort that he had not wanted to hear. When he couldn't remember where his brother kept the reserve coffee, another voice had gently informed him of such. Both had been far too feminine sounding to have been his brothers and he was quite certain that he'd been alone after all. To top it off, he found that when he truly paid attention to what he could perceive, he heard nothing out of ordinary. It was on his most unsuspecting moments that the voice would rise out of the depths of nowhere. When he was dozing off, they came with a frequency and strength that honestly said? Scared the hell out of him. Now surely, if he'd somehow tuned in to whatever the hell it was, he could tune back out? Ignore it all? His hand hovered over a cup of tea as he stared at the well-loved kitchen counter tops, lost in thought. Who to tell? Jozzy? And only worry her more? Not a hair on his body that thought of it, although he suspected that his brothers would have told her at least something of his behavior. And then there was fear that the Order wouldn't have him back once this came to light. The door of a car was slammed shut, but he didn't take note of it. At least not until another voice warned him of such. A male voice, nothing but a low and hoarse grumble somewhere in his head. It was far too unreal to be real, and almost impossible to hear, had the room not been bathed in silence. Hey kid. Look sharp. You're about to get company. Wyatt looked up and turned on the radio, before picking up his cup of tea and walking toward the door to greet whoever was there. No thank you sir, he didn't want no part of this. |