[ the bucket's still there, cold as ever despite the heat of the workshop, and not as clean as anyone would probably like, but evan's not. whatever trial or trials have him occupied mean he's gone for a time, being smashed by pallets and hit by broken metal and putting lives on hooks for the entity's sake. it's what he does best. what he's always done best.
so david's alone, and without even someone in the darkness outside to watch him leave. as evan figured, ghost face is away, planning his next move. without evan there to keep the fire going in the coals, the light's dimmer. more like they're in a deep mine somewhere with only a handful of bulbs to light the way. or maybe hell coming up through the cracks hidden in the walls (watch the sparks).
it's still and silent, quiet and seemingly dead. for all the tools and masks and weapons littering the place, the evidence of a life once lived, there's not much life left in the place itself without its occupant. if the entity got tired of him one day, there wouldn't be much change, except that the coals would go ashen and the traps would shut and rust.
[ in which case, david's quick to wipe up and get dressed again — never keen on that cold water, tempted to try and heat it with that furnace but knowing him he'd break at least three things and he doesn't need evan to be (completely justifiably, for once) that furious with him. it's a quick thing anyway, and david looks around the workshop idly while he puts his shirt and jacket back on. ]
[ it's weird, but nobody being here does bother him. david's used to there always being people around, of the noise and movement of so many people, even when the campfire is at its quietest. the stillness and the quiet here is something deeply unnerving for david. ]
[ but whatever, he's done here. pauses to tuck that whiskey bottle a little deeper, because he's fairly sure anyone used to scavenging down here would notice the bottle among the others, but then he leaves. same as ever. ]
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so david's alone, and without even someone in the darkness outside to watch him leave. as evan figured, ghost face is away, planning his next move. without evan there to keep the fire going in the coals, the light's dimmer. more like they're in a deep mine somewhere with only a handful of bulbs to light the way. or maybe hell coming up through the cracks hidden in the walls (watch the sparks).
it's still and silent, quiet and seemingly dead. for all the tools and masks and weapons littering the place, the evidence of a life once lived, there's not much life left in the place itself without its occupant. if the entity got tired of him one day, there wouldn't be much change, except that the coals would go ashen and the traps would shut and rust.
it's something evan doesn't think about. much, anyway. ]
no subject
quick to wipe up and get dressed again — never keen on that cold water, tempted to try and heat it with that furnace but knowing him he'd break at least three things and he doesn't need evan to be (completely justifiably, for once) that furious with him. it's a quick thing anyway, and david looks around the workshop idly while he puts his shirt and jacket back on. ]
[ it's weird, but nobody being here does bother him. david's used to there always being people around, of the noise and movement of so many people, even when the campfire is at its quietest. the stillness and the quiet here is something deeply unnerving for david. ]
[ but whatever, he's done here. pauses to tuck that whiskey bottle a little deeper, because he's fairly sure anyone used to scavenging down here would notice the bottle among the others, but then he leaves. same as ever. ]