Re: [quicklog: micah c, neil d, cris m, louis d]
[Everything since those wishes had been granted had been flipped on its head. He was still him, but he wasn't him, and every look in the mirror was a jarring moment that still had him reeling, even though several days had passed. He had gotten what he asked for, he supposed, and Micah knew that even if he had been as specific as he could think of, the simple fact that it had backfired in such a way was really no surprise.
If it was just the changes to his body, Micah knew he could deal rather easily. It was the other thing that was hard to handle. Once upon a time, he had enjoyed sunsets, enjoyed the blush of color in the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon. But now, he dreaded their approach, a pit of heavy worry in his stomach with every second, minute, hour that ticked by, knowing what he did about what would happen. The first time it had happened had taken him by surprise, a walk back to his trailer turning into something that had dragged out into eternity (or at least that's how it felt). It hadn't been painful, that transformation, but the way that his senses had been eliminated one by one had been horrible. Not being able to feel, to see, to hear... his sense of time broken and unreliable. The night had stretched on forever, it felt, and only when the sun broke over the horizon once again did he feel any relief. The next day had been spent sleeping, spent and exhausted from a night of no rest, and the days since had been little better. So sleep had become his best friend during the days, a fan spewing out lukewarm air in the confines of the trailer, little relief from the late summer heat. But he was simply too tired to even care.
Unfortunately, not all of his time could be spent there. He had to come out, eventually. Food, water, bathroom. The tiny trailer didn't have plumbing, and nature's call was certainly enough to rouse him from his slumber, and it was during one of those outings that he heard footsteps. The carnival had been quiet, otherwise, as it normally was during the day, so the footsteps were out of place. But Micah knew the area, how to move quietly, and exhaustion fled almost immediately as adrenaline kicked in at the sight of Louis Donovan making his way towards his little trailer.
The entrance was opposite Louis' approach, giving Micah enough time to get inside and to find the gun he had purchased, the gun that had been used to end a life purposefully and maliciously. He checked the barrel for bullets; fully loaded and ready, and even though his hands shook as he held the gun, heavier than it seemed, he wouldn't hesitate to use it.
Micah glanced in the mirror, long black hair and features that were both familiar and not in the same breath. His hair was loose, stringy and greasy around a pale face, the tank top he wore dingy around the hem. Cut off shorts and a pair of brown flip flops, it was hardly attire that would win any beauty contests, but it was comfortable in the warmth. He reached up to pull his hair away from his face, working the strands into some semblance of order, and only then did he step out from the trailer into the late summer sun. The gun was tucked into the back of his shorts, pale legs on display, and when he came around the corner of the trailer to greet Louis, it was not Micah who stood there, but a doppelganger that looked exactly like his sister who had been the focus of the entire mess.
Inky blue eyes widened slightly, appropriately, at Louis' approach, and though the mannerisms weren't quite right, they were close.]
Louis? What are you doing here? [Even the voice was just right, though the word choice was off at times]