[ the blood, the guts, the obvious fact that she'll be dead in five minutes whether he does anything or not - evan watches her. watches the smile, the look at this bullshit gesture toward her dying frame, the way she doesn't move even to try and protect herself from his cleaver should he choose to use it.
she doesn't beg, either. but the ones who've been here for a while usually don't. they know it's usually useless.
she does make a vulgar comment, which makes him snort. ]
Not me. Maybe the ghost.
[ he keeps watching her. she won't be much longer. ]
He's probably jerking it right now. [ She means for her hand to gesture toward the forest, to wherever Ghost Face is, snapping shots of her dying at the Trapper's feet. If he is out there, maybe he'll taunt her with them later. It always feels fucked. Looking at a picture of herself, guts steaming. But her hand doesn't raise this time, just twitches where it lays. The panic rises. ]
P-power fantasy. [ Or something like it. Maybe he just finds her pathetic. Likes watching her bleed out without lifting a finger. She doesn't feel pathetic, she knows in that space her soul resided that she's iron, that she's— she's— maybe she is pathetic. She doesn't actually want to die.
She feels cold even though her guts had felt so hot. She sucks in an awful breath. It's a rattle, it's close to a cry. She's so close to the edge, that moment of nothing; it's frightening to watch it coming. To realize, she doesn't know if she wants to see the campfire. If she wants nothing, nothing ever again. To really, really be dead. She blurts out in a shaky breath to a serial killer: ] I don't k-know if I want to come back.
[ she's trying to keep it light, but it's fading. she's fading. too much blood loss will do that to a person. it might be kinder to kill her on the spot, but since when has he ever been kind?
he can see the cold creeping up on her. the way the knowledge that she's dying is setting in. for all the time they've been here, that fear never really goes away, and he knows exactly why. the entity has a very particular way it wants the game played, and even outside trials, some things stick.
the shaky words almost don't reach him. if there was any other sound around, they might not have. evan looks down at her, and while there's no sympathy in him, no pity or remorse, there is something like resignation in his voice when he replies. ]
FUCK— that. [ She can't get much more out, words bloody and body twitching as her heart gives a flutter, hand on the earth opening and closing a few inches from the Trapper's boot. Maybe she's reaching for him. Doesn't matter, she's too weak. She dies gritting her teeth, her eyes shining until they...
Dim. Go dim. Her mouth slackens too, little fierce rabbit body gone slack, light, whatever went into making it a being gone now. Just a body. Just a creature caught in a trap, that ran as hard as it could.
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she doesn't beg, either. but the ones who've been here for a while usually don't. they know it's usually useless.
she does make a vulgar comment, which makes him snort. ]
Not me. Maybe the ghost.
[ he keeps watching her. she won't be much longer. ]
You're finished without me gettin' involved.
sorry for disappearing! she'll be dead soon...
P-power fantasy. [ Or something like it. Maybe he just finds her pathetic. Likes watching her bleed out without lifting a finger. She doesn't feel pathetic, she knows in that space her soul resided that she's iron, that she's— she's— maybe she is pathetic. She doesn't actually want to die.
She feels cold even though her guts had felt so hot. She sucks in an awful breath. It's a rattle, it's close to a cry. She's so close to the edge, that moment of nothing; it's frightening to watch it coming. To realize, she doesn't know if she wants to see the campfire. If she wants nothing, nothing ever again. To really, really be dead. She blurts out in a shaky breath to a serial killer: ] I don't k-know if I want to come back.
rip 2 meg
he can see the cold creeping up on her. the way the knowledge that she's dying is setting in. for all the time they've been here, that fear never really goes away, and he knows exactly why. the entity has a very particular way it wants the game played, and even outside trials, some things stick.
the shaky words almost don't reach him. if there was any other sound around, they might not have. evan looks down at her, and while there's no sympathy in him, no pity or remorse, there is something like resignation in his voice when he replies. ]
Ain't up to us.
rip 🙏🎀
Dim. Go dim. Her mouth slackens too, little fierce rabbit body gone slack, light, whatever went into making it a being gone now. Just a body. Just a creature caught in a trap, that ran as hard as it could.
If she were there, she'd probably say:
That's all folks. ]