Mothman? Never heard of him. (photogenic_moth) wrote in wildhuntthreads, @ 2020-10-24 23:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | !post: thread, castiel, catcher soleil, lock |
Who: Catcher Soleil, Lock, and Castiel
What: The long awaited great escape
When: Saturday, October 24th. Sometime around sunset.
Where: ????
Status: Closed, ongoing
Warnings: Injuries, insects(?), mentions of dismemberment, bindings, blood, transformation, angst --> hurt/comfort, TBD
Minutes turned into days which turned into weeks. Every other hour he was drifting in and out of consciousness. When he was out he'd have dreams. Weird, gnarly dreams. Nightmares. Sometimes the dreams could be better than when he woke up next. When he dreamed, he escaped for a little while longer. He could barely feel his own body, the pain felt numb now, each would fresh with dried blood. Catcher couldn't even bring himself to look at the floor of this twisted circus, it was riddled with dismembered fingers and remains of something...someone who occupied this space previously.
It took him a few days to figure out he was in some sort of storage building. Abandoned, run down...the perfect place to keep a hostage. He could hear the sea, so he had to be near the Harbor District. His arms tied behind his back against a chair. The shapeshifter's forehead caked was with dried blood, two antennae lay flat as he gazed at the floor. Everything was sore. None of his wounds were healing fast. His body wasn't strong enough to change back to normal, something he'd inflicted upon himself when he'd tried to escape. But, if he had not shown that, he feared he wouldn't have survived this long in the 'care' of the circus.
Nikola kept him company the entire time he was here. She popped in every now and again. Mostly to gloat or examine his skin. She had a lot to say about it, saying Catcher caught her interest. His ability to transform into something else hadn't been something she'd ever seen before. She made that very, very clear. When it wasn't Nikola, it was the cicada referred to as Sarah. But even then, Catcher hadn't seen her recently. Or, occasionally he'd get those two delivery men. They barely spoke, but when they did, it was always to complete the other's sentence. Nothing about them is right. Catcher had thought. These homies are on a whole other level of wack.
Over his weeks here, Catcher had caught wind of something. Some sort of plan. Nikola and her many associates were planning something. Something...she referred to as The Unknowing. Catcher had no idea what that meant, but she was planning to do it at the end of October, and involved bringing something called The Stranger to this world. Is this why...she takes people? What even is she? You couldn't get more direct than "finding the best skin to wear to the event". There was so, so much more. But he hadn't had time to sit and collect his thoughts.
Usually the guard shifted every three hours or so. But no one came to replace the delivery workers. They simple got a call about a package, and disappeared. Not even the ringmaster herself showed up to keep an eye on him. Catcher had been working to wiggle his arms free from the rope for the past week or so, doing it when no one had been watching. He'd gotten it loose enough so that the next time no one was around, he'd have it.
This is my chance.
I have to...I have to go... Catcher's eyes were snapped shut, his leg wobbled as he tried to find balance. His hands located a doorknob. It took all his might to tear open the door, nearly falling as the door creaked. I have to...I have to get...I have to tell someone...she can't get away with... Quickly, he ran as fast as he could. Far, far away from that place.
The sun was beginning to set on the horizon. He managed to tear his eyes open for a few moments, his vision blurry, tears fell from his face to try and compensate. Catcher dragged his leg, and half-transformed four-armed body, across the docks weakly. As he walked, a trail of blood was left in his wake. There was no one around, thankfully, but he could hear carnival music and talking from far off.
He thought he saw someone in the distance. Someone...familiar...
"Lock...?"
That was the last thing Catcher could say before his knees buckled beneath him and he fell face first into the concrete. The impact didn't even hurt anymore, everything hurt. Everything hurt so much.