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SEVEN TRIALS
Nov. 15th, 2012 06:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
whocouldwinarabbit[This is from nutritionalexpert's comm. And... also his body. It's pretty clearly Evan, even kitted out in a hat with the brim down low, his eyes swallowed up by the shadow it casts. his grin is the only thing visible of his face, wide and manic.]
Bravo, boys and girls, bra-fuck-ing-vo.
[The abstract concept behind the curtain, City: a whole five feet two inches of malice, hunched on the back of his couch gargoyle-style. the coffee table is blanketed in knives of all description, jagged, evil-looking things, some of them with the telltale rust color of dried blood. A radio offscreen is merrily looping the same song, over and over. His neighbors are going to hear manic guitar strumming in their subconscious for years.]
Do you wanna know how many people tuned in? No, no, I'm not talking about the shitheads who actually showed up to my little shin-dig. They hardly matter. No, see, what I cared about was the cameras I had watching the bloodbath. [he rummages through the knives to pick a CD up off of the table, and taps it demonstratively.] Sent the whole thing straight to the Internet. Sounds like you're all findin' that right about now, huh?
So. Do you wanna know how many people really reared their ugly heads to see you-all beat each other into bloody pulp? [He sniggers, flipping the CD back onto the table. he rocks back and forth on his heels, jabs a finger at the camera.] Do you wanna KNOW... how many people enjoyed that? How fast that shit is spreading? How many people said, "yeah, I hope they all just do the deed, just fucking rip each other apart."
You want to get rid of me? You wanna make me face justice? That's how you're feeling about all this, really, that's your thought? [He licks his teeth, jittering the hands hanging off his knees.] "HABIT, you piece of shit, you motherfucker, who cares whose hands did the deed, look at the body count. You gotta be stopped." [The side of his mouth ticks up.] Fine! Go ahead. It doesn't change a thing. Getting rid of me -- I mean, if we pretend that you could... well, point is. I said what I had to. And it wasn't [-- he points at the camera --] to you.
So... okey-dokey! Do what you're gonna do, coppers. [HABIT stretches his hands out, like he's readying his wrists for handcuffs.] I'm not goin' anywhere. Saved my last dance for you.
nutritionalexpert's comm. And... also his body. It's pretty clearly Evan, even kitted out in a hat with the brim down low, his eyes swallowed up by the shadow it casts. his grin is the only thing visible of his face, wide and manic.]Bravo, boys and girls, bra-fuck-ing-vo.
[The abstract concept behind the curtain, City: a whole five feet two inches of malice, hunched on the back of his couch gargoyle-style. the coffee table is blanketed in knives of all description, jagged, evil-looking things, some of them with the telltale rust color of dried blood. A radio offscreen is merrily looping the same song, over and over. His neighbors are going to hear manic guitar strumming in their subconscious for years.]
Do you wanna know how many people tuned in? No, no, I'm not talking about the shitheads who actually showed up to my little shin-dig. They hardly matter. No, see, what I cared about was the cameras I had watching the bloodbath. [he rummages through the knives to pick a CD up off of the table, and taps it demonstratively.] Sent the whole thing straight to the Internet. Sounds like you're all findin' that right about now, huh?
So. Do you wanna know how many people really reared their ugly heads to see you-all beat each other into bloody pulp? [He sniggers, flipping the CD back onto the table. he rocks back and forth on his heels, jabs a finger at the camera.] Do you wanna KNOW... how many people enjoyed that? How fast that shit is spreading? How many people said, "yeah, I hope they all just do the deed, just fucking rip each other apart."
You want to get rid of me? You wanna make me face justice? That's how you're feeling about all this, really, that's your thought? [He licks his teeth, jittering the hands hanging off his knees.] "HABIT, you piece of shit, you motherfucker, who cares whose hands did the deed, look at the body count. You gotta be stopped." [The side of his mouth ticks up.] Fine! Go ahead. It doesn't change a thing. Getting rid of me -- I mean, if we pretend that you could... well, point is. I said what I had to. And it wasn't [-- he points at the camera --] to you.
So... okey-dokey! Do what you're gonna do, coppers. [HABIT stretches his hands out, like he's readying his wrists for handcuffs.] I'm not goin' anywhere. Saved my last dance for you.
