Do Ya Kennit? (closed to lastsonofgilead)
Nov. 5th, 2014 05:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shutupandgetintheanimusOf all the shit Desmond had seen and experienced, as his ancestors and as himself, he never expected to be cornered by three of...whatever the hell these things were. They looked human, at least from the neck down. But their heads...
"Jesus." He yanked his hidden blade free from the chest of one with a doglike head, stepping away from the rank smell of them. "The fuck..."
They'd come charging in from a door they hadn't noticed before, hidden in a corner of the warehouse. Screaming something like "cherry" or..."charred"? Hard to tell coming from mouths like theirs. It wasn't exactly something you saw every day. Or even wanted to. He looked over his shoulder at Rebecca and his father. He could have laughed at the expression on Bill's face, if the situation wasn't so fucked up. Or if Rebecca didn't look so terrified. "You guys okay? ...Where's Shaun?"
"I'm here! Just..." Their resident historian popped up from his hiding place, visibly shaking. Desmond couldn't blame him. "Just...well. You've settled things quite nicely. Not bad, for your first time fighting....er...whatever those things are. So...good job."
Good old Shaun. Always ready with a joke. Desmond forced a smile and looked back at that door. It was still wide open, though from this angle it was hard to see where it led, exactly. He got a bad feeling looking at it. Something that made all the hair on the back of his neck stick up, that made him want to say fuck it, they were going to leave the warehouse and find somewhere else to stay temporarily. Activating his Eagle Vision to look at the thing was out of the question. He suspected looking at it like that would have him gouging his own eyes out.
Some things, you just weren't meant to look at.
"...Pretty sure that wasn't there before," Rebecca said, her voice trembling. "In fact I'm sure of it. ...We should, uh...probably leave, and forget this happened."
He made a somewhat noncommittal noise and took one hesitant step towards the door.
"Son." Bill's voice was all at once alarmed and hilariously reserved. Like Desmond was a three-year-old with a scraped knee again. "Get back. Come on. Get away from there."
"Shh." Desmond took another small step to the side, trying to see around the door frame. "H-hello? Someone there?"
"Jesus." He yanked his hidden blade free from the chest of one with a doglike head, stepping away from the rank smell of them. "The fuck..."
They'd come charging in from a door they hadn't noticed before, hidden in a corner of the warehouse. Screaming something like "cherry" or..."charred"? Hard to tell coming from mouths like theirs. It wasn't exactly something you saw every day. Or even wanted to. He looked over his shoulder at Rebecca and his father. He could have laughed at the expression on Bill's face, if the situation wasn't so fucked up. Or if Rebecca didn't look so terrified. "You guys okay? ...Where's Shaun?"
"I'm here! Just..." Their resident historian popped up from his hiding place, visibly shaking. Desmond couldn't blame him. "Just...well. You've settled things quite nicely. Not bad, for your first time fighting....er...whatever those things are. So...good job."
Good old Shaun. Always ready with a joke. Desmond forced a smile and looked back at that door. It was still wide open, though from this angle it was hard to see where it led, exactly. He got a bad feeling looking at it. Something that made all the hair on the back of his neck stick up, that made him want to say fuck it, they were going to leave the warehouse and find somewhere else to stay temporarily. Activating his Eagle Vision to look at the thing was out of the question. He suspected looking at it like that would have him gouging his own eyes out.
Some things, you just weren't meant to look at.
"...Pretty sure that wasn't there before," Rebecca said, her voice trembling. "In fact I'm sure of it. ...We should, uh...probably leave, and forget this happened."
He made a somewhat noncommittal noise and took one hesitant step towards the door.
"Son." Bill's voice was all at once alarmed and hilariously reserved. Like Desmond was a three-year-old with a scraped knee again. "Get back. Come on. Get away from there."
"Shh." Desmond took another small step to the side, trying to see around the door frame. "H-hello? Someone there?"
