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entrancelogs2007-08-31 08:58 pm
picksupstrays.livejournal.com) wrote in entrancelogs2007-08-31 08:58 pm
harry and pyramid head [complete]
Who: Harry Mason and Pyramid Head
Where The Library
When: 8/31/07, sometime after Harry escorts Simon out and talks to James
Rating: R for severe violence and torture.
Summary: For the past few days, Harry has run for his life. Now, he can run no longer from his inevitable fate.
the Story:
Bad habits form from stress, of course. In the not-so-easy life of Harry Mason, he's unfortunately developed quite a few at the mansion. Drinking, off and on -- which progressively became worse. Now, in the past few days of running for his life, he's been sober but no sleep, naturally.
Now? Now, he knows he's so exhausted he won't be able to run anymore.
Instead, Harry waits for the inevitable.
He's currently chewing his thumbnail. He has nothing else he can. He's already escorted Simon safely from the library, and though he briefly spoke to James he's had to shoo him away now, too.
Harry doesn't... doesn't want anyone to see this. Or have to deal with it. Or really, have to know.
He's seated by a table, his handgun loaded and ready. Not that it'll do him any good, but Harry isn't that much of a coward to just... to just let the Crimson One have his way. He's got to try to make a stand, even if he'll lose.
The Crimson God, Xuchilbara, inches menacingly forward. Step by step, he gets closer to his prey, pure rage driving him to find Harry Mason and make him suffer. He is helmeted, his apron stained with blood of those who have faced him in the past, and his Great Knife is sharpened, ready for the kill.
Oh yes. There will be blood.
...He hears it. Damn it, Harry doesn't want to think he's been waiting for this, but... he has been. He's been dreading it for what feels like ages. The author's breath catches in his throat as he hears it.
Scrapes. Long and aching, scratching through the hallway -- just outside the door.
Closer and closer.
"Shit," Harry whispers to himself, grabbing the handgun. He's trying to be steady, but he trembles a little.
There have been so many times he's been frightened -- but normally, there was a small hope for survival.
Harry honestly knows he can't survive this time. There's only so long he can run, and the Crimson One is practically invincible.
He inches closer, his menacing shadow falling over Harry before he even enters the library. Painfully, he prolongs this advance, standing in the doorway for a moment before hissing.
"MASON."
Shit--! Harry jerks, turning in his seat. Him, it's really him.
He feels himself barely able to breathe. His body is in fight or flight mode, and seriously, he wants to run, but there's no where to run.
Harry slowly stands up, lifting his handgun.
"This is about the Holy Mother, isn't it?" he asks, voice trembling. "That... thing. That was your mother. Lobsel Vith told me. I... I did it to save Alessa."
And, yes. Harry's sinned. He won't deny that. A small part of him believes he deserves this.
...But it doesn't mean he's not scared.
And most of him knows he wants to survive, which is why he keeps the gun trained on the Red Pyramid thing.
He inches closer, ever closer.
"Oh. I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to make you suffer."
He reaches forward, finally, to grab Harry by the skin of his chest.
"Ahh--"
What the hell is this--?
Harry jerks, trying to get away. "Get... get off!!"
Desperately, he points the gun at the Red God, shooting whatever bullets he has left. Shit, shit!
The bullets just deflect off his helmet, perfectly harmless to him. With one clean movement, he rips off whatever Harry is wearing... and his skin, too.
Oh God--
The pain is almost blinding. This isn't even remotely what he expected. He screams at the tear of flesh, his skin gone.
It's too much, enough that it -- fuck, it's enough that everything burns and hurts and he's falling to the floor.
Just... just what the hell kind of cult worships this...?!
"Oh, we're not done yet, Mr. Mason... there is still more suffering to behold."
He pulls out a satchel from his apron. A satchel filled with... salt.
Fuck, if he could even move--
Harry can barely even see him, eyes blurred in the burning.
But he wants to beg him, but he can't, just fucking can't.
Pyramid Head liberally sprinkles the salt all over Harry's body.
"That's right, Mr. Mason. This is what becomes of those who murder."
He puts away the satchel and pulls out a needle and thread. While Harry suffers, he starts sewing the man's skin into an apron.
At this point, his screams, his own yelling and whimpering sounds ... doesn't sound a thing like himself. That's the passing thought to Harry. He can't even recognize himself, too busy writhing in agony.
Oh god, what's ... what's it doing now? Honestly, he's glad he can't see.
When he's done with the apron, he tosses it beside Harry.
"That will fit you just fine, Mr. Mason."
He breaks Harry's nose with a strike from the heel of his palm, and then proceeds to slip his hand under the muscle and rip out Harry's collarbone.
Fuck -- fuck, that's his own flesh right there -- an apron?
He cries out at the sudden strike, his nose immediately pouring blood. Harry feels the hand under muscle (oh god) and ripping out--
"STOP!!" he suddenly screams out, his hurting hands still coming up to try to grab onto the Red God's arm.
(god it hurts just make it STOP)
"Oh no, Harry. I'm not done yet."
He plucks out Harry's eyeballs with ease, forcing them into the man's mouth.
"Eat up."
He goes blind.
The Crimson One tears out his eyes and the fingers are forcing their way into his mouth, his eyes.
He gags and tries to move his head away. (stop it) No no!
He forces Harry to chew them, to swallow them, to eat his own eyes. Then he breaks up the collar bone, fits over the sockets, takes out a hamer and some nails, and hammers the bone into place.
He gags on the way (god feel so sick) and--
And it never ends. Every bit, this monster has something new to do to him. Something else to torment him with. No, it's not enough that Harry is blind, he's got to block off his sockets!
His throat is so raw, but Harry can't. Stop. Screaming.
To finish off his masterpiece, Xuchilbara sews what's left of the eyelids over the blocked-off sockets, then holds Harry's jaw open with the remaining collar bone.
"Perfect. A picture of suffering. You are cleansed now."
Monster, damned monster, what gives... what gives it the right to--
He can't say or do anything. Pathetic moans of pain escape Harry Mason as he bleeds and writhes on the floor blindly.
All he can hear is the Red God. He can't speak to it, or see it.
Whether that's good or bad, he isn't so sure.
And the Red God quietly stalks away, the screeching of his Blade echoing through the halls of the mansion once more.
Where The Library
When: 8/31/07, sometime after Harry escorts Simon out and talks to James
Rating: R for severe violence and torture.
Summary: For the past few days, Harry has run for his life. Now, he can run no longer from his inevitable fate.
the Story:
Bad habits form from stress, of course. In the not-so-easy life of Harry Mason, he's unfortunately developed quite a few at the mansion. Drinking, off and on -- which progressively became worse. Now, in the past few days of running for his life, he's been sober but no sleep, naturally.
Now? Now, he knows he's so exhausted he won't be able to run anymore.
Instead, Harry waits for the inevitable.
He's currently chewing his thumbnail. He has nothing else he can. He's already escorted Simon safely from the library, and though he briefly spoke to James he's had to shoo him away now, too.
Harry doesn't... doesn't want anyone to see this. Or have to deal with it. Or really, have to know.
He's seated by a table, his handgun loaded and ready. Not that it'll do him any good, but Harry isn't that much of a coward to just... to just let the Crimson One have his way. He's got to try to make a stand, even if he'll lose.
The Crimson God, Xuchilbara, inches menacingly forward. Step by step, he gets closer to his prey, pure rage driving him to find Harry Mason and make him suffer. He is helmeted, his apron stained with blood of those who have faced him in the past, and his Great Knife is sharpened, ready for the kill.
Oh yes. There will be blood.
...He hears it. Damn it, Harry doesn't want to think he's been waiting for this, but... he has been. He's been dreading it for what feels like ages. The author's breath catches in his throat as he hears it.
Scrapes. Long and aching, scratching through the hallway -- just outside the door.
Closer and closer.
"Shit," Harry whispers to himself, grabbing the handgun. He's trying to be steady, but he trembles a little.
There have been so many times he's been frightened -- but normally, there was a small hope for survival.
Harry honestly knows he can't survive this time. There's only so long he can run, and the Crimson One is practically invincible.
He inches closer, his menacing shadow falling over Harry before he even enters the library. Painfully, he prolongs this advance, standing in the doorway for a moment before hissing.
"MASON."
Shit--! Harry jerks, turning in his seat. Him, it's really him.
He feels himself barely able to breathe. His body is in fight or flight mode, and seriously, he wants to run, but there's no where to run.
Harry slowly stands up, lifting his handgun.
"This is about the Holy Mother, isn't it?" he asks, voice trembling. "That... thing. That was your mother. Lobsel Vith told me. I... I did it to save Alessa."
And, yes. Harry's sinned. He won't deny that. A small part of him believes he deserves this.
...But it doesn't mean he's not scared.
And most of him knows he wants to survive, which is why he keeps the gun trained on the Red Pyramid thing.
He inches closer, ever closer.
"Oh. I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to make you suffer."
He reaches forward, finally, to grab Harry by the skin of his chest.
"Ahh--"
What the hell is this--?
Harry jerks, trying to get away. "Get... get off!!"
Desperately, he points the gun at the Red God, shooting whatever bullets he has left. Shit, shit!
The bullets just deflect off his helmet, perfectly harmless to him. With one clean movement, he rips off whatever Harry is wearing... and his skin, too.
Oh God--
The pain is almost blinding. This isn't even remotely what he expected. He screams at the tear of flesh, his skin gone.
It's too much, enough that it -- fuck, it's enough that everything burns and hurts and he's falling to the floor.
Just... just what the hell kind of cult worships this...?!
"Oh, we're not done yet, Mr. Mason... there is still more suffering to behold."
He pulls out a satchel from his apron. A satchel filled with... salt.
Fuck, if he could even move--
Harry can barely even see him, eyes blurred in the burning.
But he wants to beg him, but he can't, just fucking can't.
Pyramid Head liberally sprinkles the salt all over Harry's body.
"That's right, Mr. Mason. This is what becomes of those who murder."
He puts away the satchel and pulls out a needle and thread. While Harry suffers, he starts sewing the man's skin into an apron.
At this point, his screams, his own yelling and whimpering sounds ... doesn't sound a thing like himself. That's the passing thought to Harry. He can't even recognize himself, too busy writhing in agony.
Oh god, what's ... what's it doing now? Honestly, he's glad he can't see.
When he's done with the apron, he tosses it beside Harry.
"That will fit you just fine, Mr. Mason."
He breaks Harry's nose with a strike from the heel of his palm, and then proceeds to slip his hand under the muscle and rip out Harry's collarbone.
Fuck -- fuck, that's his own flesh right there -- an apron?
He cries out at the sudden strike, his nose immediately pouring blood. Harry feels the hand under muscle (oh god) and ripping out--
"STOP!!" he suddenly screams out, his hurting hands still coming up to try to grab onto the Red God's arm.
(god it hurts just make it STOP)
"Oh no, Harry. I'm not done yet."
He plucks out Harry's eyeballs with ease, forcing them into the man's mouth.
"Eat up."
He goes blind.
The Crimson One tears out his eyes and the fingers are forcing their way into his mouth, his eyes.
He gags and tries to move his head away. (stop it) No no!
He forces Harry to chew them, to swallow them, to eat his own eyes. Then he breaks up the collar bone, fits over the sockets, takes out a hamer and some nails, and hammers the bone into place.
He gags on the way (god feel so sick) and--
And it never ends. Every bit, this monster has something new to do to him. Something else to torment him with. No, it's not enough that Harry is blind, he's got to block off his sockets!
His throat is so raw, but Harry can't. Stop. Screaming.
To finish off his masterpiece, Xuchilbara sews what's left of the eyelids over the blocked-off sockets, then holds Harry's jaw open with the remaining collar bone.
"Perfect. A picture of suffering. You are cleansed now."
Monster, damned monster, what gives... what gives it the right to--
He can't say or do anything. Pathetic moans of pain escape Harry Mason as he bleeds and writhes on the floor blindly.
All he can hear is the Red God. He can't speak to it, or see it.
Whether that's good or bad, he isn't so sure.
And the Red God quietly stalks away, the screeching of his Blade echoing through the halls of the mansion once more.