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[Legion can't explain it. Sometimes he, they, really, just need out. Out of what, he's never sure, out of his body, out of his mind, but the only word he can ever seem to apply to it is out. It's like feeling the urge to vomit. He just has to. And he's been holding back. He doesn't know his webcam is on, just another thing he's forgotten that he's done after doing it.]
[This is playing very distantly in the background. Legion isn't even looking at the camera, but instead, staring at something diagonally from his computer, slumped over with a hand tugging into his hair.]
My head hurts. My head hurts. [It echoes strangely, as if picked up by just one other voice. It's small enough that it could be conceived as a glitch.] I can't stand it. I can't stand it. [He knows he's in trouble once he starts repeating himself. His own voice is starting to dissipate. The 'it' comes out almost growl-like, echoed by several voices at once as he curls in on himself, his head on the desk, arms clutched over his head. There's a dull thud, and it's evident he's hit his head on the desk, his fingers grasping, claw-like on the back of his scalp.]
I feel...we're going to...just pry our skull open and flood out. Out out out. [It's like something has broken, there are what could pass for hundreds, perhaps thousands of ravenous voices at once, and it takes him a minute, before he finally looks up, and into the camera lens. It's too late, now. He feigns a broken, unstable smile, and a wild sounding giggle.]
[There's a moment of stillness, letting the voices resonate that single word, before he cuts the feed.]
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