entrancelogs | [OPEN] Like the echos in your mind you try to leave them all behind...

Entry tags:

[OPEN] Like the echos in your mind you try to leave them all behind...

Who: Philip (

radiopalkiller ) & OPEN
Where: A nightmare! That country whose name he doesn't remember anymore! The mines!
When: 3rd to 7th of October, aka. event time (with bonus thread for the week after)
Rating: PG-13 and neighbouring ratings
Summary: Home sweet home! ...Sort of.
The Story:
[ OOC INFO: Open to all, prose and comment spam welcome. Here is a summary of all the days:

#1: Philip will wander the tunnels aimlessly and try to process that he's actually stuck in his own event.
#2: Philip will wander the tunnels deliberately, make a tentative transmission and spend most of the time murdering dogs with zest and That Unsettling Little Spark (TM) in his eyes.
#3: Philip will casually look for tools and spend most of the day sitting by the lake.
#4: Philip will get impatient, look for tools in many more places and gather supplies to make a huge bomb which he hopes will blow open the door to the incinerator, the path he knows leads to the last part of the mines.
#5: A brief public service announcement, followed by broken sobs.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cecil brightens at the recognition. The voice is his trademark, and it's always the first thing people notice, well before they notice his appearance. Funny, that.

"Yes! Yes, that's me. Cecil Palmer. I just did a quick broadcast, actually...well, sort of. The signal isn't very strong down here. I don't know how many people heard it."

Cecil follows Phillip's gaze to make sure nothing's creeping up on him. Just darkness. Which is better than monsters, that's for sure. Unless they're friendly monsters, which these ones aren't.

Guess there's arguing that a radio personality needs a striking voice, one that is, most importantly, memorable to its target audience. It'd be odd though, if anybody told Philip that, even standing here in person, their first thought was focused on Cecil's voice, even though it's plain to see that the guy w̝͚i͎͆̾̑ͥ̑̄r̘̱̠̰̞̘̱͌ͯͩ͐͜ ̟̜̘̹ͥ̎ͯ̓ha̯͑ͯ́̅̽͐ḇ̭̫̲̖͂̚e̶ͫ͂͛̓͊̀ͨņ̰̻̗ͤ̒̿ͬ͒̚ ̜͎̹̹͋k̆͂͠e̎ͣ͊͟i̹̤͓̥̳̩͓̎̑̍ͦ̽n̼̘̙̦̥̫̫ͧ̍͊̕e̤͐ͫͥ͛̾̈ ̲͓̔͛z̫̭̻̘̻̣̯̏ͮ͋e̜̱͕͍̗͔̱̽ͩ͋͐̌ͪ͋͝ȋ͓̰̻͇̪̎̏̌̊ť͔͊̿̊͡ ̘͇̞̘̻̯̂̑̑̅f̬͙͈́ͦ̐̇̈́̄͟û͍̰̥͊̎͋ͅe̖͙͉͘r̪̜͙ͅ ̝͉͔̻̱͕́̏͑ͩ̉́̐ṡ̙̝̥̎o̿̿̆ͨ̀̊͠l̰ͩͬ̔͆̐c̘̹͘ẖ̲͈̘͂e͕̺͉ͬ̈́͗ͫ ̰͔̳͈ͥ̽̽̐b̴̝̫͈͕̙̠͙̅ͨ̉̇ͩeͫͮͫ̚҉͙̻s͓̦̋̃ͩc̝͓̜͙͉̘h̖͇͓͌ͣ̅̋͋ͅr̈ͨ͑̓̚͝ë̷͇́̈ͬi̫̽̏̓ͤͪ͑̽b̮͓͍ͩ̃ͥu̼̠͍͈n̦̥̭͓͔̙ͅg̠͍̻͉̩e̴̻̜̞̖̘̓̍ͩ͊̏n̊̌͏̲͙ ̴͙̟̗̖ͥ́̆ͅwͬ͌̈́͆͏̶̖̲̘̖͕̯į̞͎̲̙̔́̔̽̈́r̸̢̗̗̥̥̼̼͒́ͦ̐͆̇͛̚̕ ̷̱͖͎͓̿̑͊̽̀͜h̷ͩͬͣ͂ͦ̂ͦ̅͟͏̠a̲͂ͣ̄b͖̤̻̩͋̀̿ͭͤ̽͟͜ȩ̭͙̝̟̰͍̣̜͐ͮ͟ņ͇̪̝̮̓̄̋͢ ̛̬̺̱͉͈̺͈̲ͮ̈́̆ͬ̄͒̌̚k͙̗̮̲̬̮̠̰ͩ̃͌̒ͨ̾͋͠e͚̩̊ͪͤ͠i͚̼̳͍͔͙̪̓̋̓ͤ̐ͅņ̝̬͛ͪ̐ͧ̀̓ͩͨe̶̗͕̽ͪ͛̋̓̿ ͪ̊҉͓̻͍ẓ̳̲̮͔̹̐͂ͩ̕ͅë̳̮̝͇͓̔̈́ͥ͡į̶̩̖̞̫̝̈́̂͗̏͗̚͡t̫̰̮̭͈̹̮̩͑ͧ̈́͒̓͜ ̲̣͓̘͔͙͋̾͌̇̌̃ͣͭ͘͜f̧̟̩͓̜̚u̱͙̩ͬ͆̌ͤͩͦ́ͦ́e̷̷̪̲͍̲͎̻͂̎ͫ̅ͥ͒͋̚ͅr̶͙̞͇̅ͩ̐̋̔ ̶̣̯̼̉̿̑̑̌̄͒͌̕ṣ̗̟ͩ͌̚o̰ͧ̊̒ͫ̀l̥̗̟̉̐ͦ̏͜͝͝ͅc͑̄͌ͧͧ͏͇̟̳̝̠̯͜hͨ͂̎̆ͧ͏͓̹̻̫e͚̟̺ͫͥ͑͆ͧͩ͌̕͡ ͙̺͇̱̹̯͊̍b̷̢̲ͭ̿ͧ̾͊͜e̢̳̤̪͉͙̦̫̺͂͗͜͝s͔͓̜̰̝̒͌̌ͦͯ̏̽̚c̮̲ͩ̈ͥͦ̐ͥͨͥ͌͠h̴̶̥̩͓̰̭͔̟̿̒̒̋ͪ̈́́ͅr̮͐ͧ̍͌͜è͙͚̩͑ͭͦ̃̀̒i̡̬̭̟̩̫ͭ͗͌̏̍b̵̛̙̮̭̜̺̙͈͈̅ͦ͆͜ū̳͈̝̝̥̪͍͘͞͝ǹ̠͛̿ͩ̌͗̕͝g̨̞͎͓̩̤̅̈ẹ̴̡̳̩̳̦̺̘͊͂ņ̪̟͛́ͤ͌ͯ͝ ̴̪̗̭͖̘̥͗ͤṉͯ͂͊͋ͪ͋̀̐͐͜͢u̸͆̏̀ͨͬ̌͋͊ͨ͏̝n̨̗͔͉̞͗͌͒̅͜ ̰̦̪̮̓͑́ͭ͘k͉̠̣̦͚͕̓͛̆õ̴̺̮̹͕̬̆̇̆̒̅̎͋̈͡m̸̺͍͕̼ͯ̈ͣ̋͒̓͋m̛̭̃ͦ̈ͭ̊ͅ ̛̙̘̪̱̖̺̆̆͛͐̏̓͑ŝ̴͖̳͈̺̲ͩ̒͠c̹̱͎͖͍̪͇͈̑ͩͯ̽ͬ͂ͯ̑h̵͚͔ͯ̂̍̔̑ͫ̒͗̊͜͠ȓ̜̞̰̩̹͗̾̒ͭ̑͛͂e̹̳̥̩͚̜̾̈́ͦ̀ȉ̧̲͉̙̜̈ͭ̃͋ͩ͊ͬ̔͢b̢̘̝̬̽ͮ̉ͦ̅͑ͪ͛ ̴̶͓̲̎̃͛m͉̩ͦa̮̥̩̳͍̣͔̱̘ͥ̓ͮͪl̷̖͈͖̩̉͂̀̋́̍ͩͤ̚ ͈̥͇̈́ͥͬ̓̆s̼̦͙̩̝̳̍͌͗̍͢͡c͓̫̳͉̘̬̈̀̕̕ͅh̗̤ͯͯ͆̈̽o̸̧̳̙̺̤͉͂̀ͪͬ͆̋̾ͤe̷̟̊ͮͪ̈́̐ņ̩̃͌ ̩̣̫͎̤̈́͐ͩ̉w̩̰̗̫̐̏͠͡e̸̻͕͖ͯͤ͊̽ͦ̉̅̇ḭ̢͎͚̜̾̋͊͞ẗ̩̔̉́͝ȩ͉̤̘̩͍͛̉ͪ̔ͬṙ̴̘̬͊̅̉͊̾ͥͭ͜ ̷̤̹͗͗ͮ͝e̛͚̘͉͈̭̫̪͓̽͘ͅs̶̗̺̩͉̮͗ͤ̌́͠ ͍̱ͥ̉̽ͧͥ̾̚g͚̾͆̔ͥ̚ͅi̵̟̙͉̘̘̣̣͈͕ͤ͐̆̓̓̑͞b̩̦̮̝̃̆̀t̲̜̔̑̾̌ͮ̓̍͠ ̻̙̖̹ͯ̂͆͊̒̇̇ͭ̐͟͞w̢̍ͯ̏̏҉͉̳̻̤̩̙̩̼ͅį̠͙͚̮͍͔͚͙͒̑c̴̤̮̖̻͔͔͖͔͗ͯ̉̃̆͛̒ͦ̚͡h͉̩͓̫̬̓ͧͤ͌ͫͬͭ̓̏͠͝ṫ̷̳̺̺̙̤͓̎̄͗̌̂́̀i̧̳ͧ̿͊g̶̦ͧ̊͛̑̒eͭ͆ͪ͂͏̛̩̤́r͍̻̤̟̜̬̒ͩͧe̵̷̵͖̭͉͗ͦ̐̾̐s̴͚͎̲̣̼̮̬̀̏́̐͛ͪ͌ ͉̈̇͆͆̎̀ͅz̞̭͕̺̩̹̈́͢u̺͚̭̩͕͙̞͌ͥ̆͆ ̛͉̭͇̻̟̣̠͓͍̔̋ͨ͐ͫ̓̄̚͞͡t̶̙̗̪͔̤͉̤̎̍͊̓̾̾̇̓u̓̏ͧ̑҉͙͚͓n̦ͣ͒̓̽͂̈́̂͢ ̵̢̟̦̖̙̻͖̲̖ͥ̾̍̑̂̓̋̚ả̦̥̪̯͈ͩ̎̄ͦ͛̆l̴̛͙̠̰͚̯̹͙͓͊̽͂ş͍ͧ̄́͋͂̔͂̍̚o̧̖͓ͯ͑͆̈́̿ ̳̫̰́ͧ͊̃̔̃̐́̚ẻ͊͗̇̏͒ͣ҉̗̯̤̱̩̯͎̮͟͡hͦ̄̔ͮ͊̚҉̤̦̬̻͙̝r̸̻̭̺̖̜͉̱͒ͦͬͬ̑̿̓ͮ͘ḻ̨̧̙̌͒ͭͧ̽͊͛i̸̝̟̩͉̖̬ͯͧ̑̋ͧ̾͐͑c̴͈̞̜̟̜̑ͯͧ̔͜͟ͅh̭͖͚̽̄ ͤ̍͏̛̹h̛̦͕͚̍ö̧͈͓́̾̐ͮ̉́͟p̘̣͚̞ͧ̑̅̈̈ͨͨͫpͩ͏̧̹̟̜͕ ̥̖ͣ̐̿̕͡hͫ҉̧̡͙͉̪̦o̸̮̘̜͔͎̱̮̰̍͞p̸͕̫͇͙ͫͦ̉ͥp̴̪̪̩͒ͭ̑ͨ͛ͤ̾͟ͅ ͕̠̦̲̳̱̝̦̮̊j̼̻̝̲͑ͩ͘e̡̱̖̰̍̊͢t̺͕̻̭̭̊̃̎̋ͨ̕z̫ͪ̾͊t̶̩̙͕͐̓̈́͘ͅ ̏͛̊̎̒̊̓͊ͩ҉̜͈͔͇z̷͆̋̈́҉̖͚̤̱͖̫̰a̢̼͋ͯ͠c̟͇͓͍̻͊̈͗̅̌ͦͯ̀k̨̲̖͉͖͚̲͖̈́ͪͥ͝i͉̖̍ͦ͒̉̐͒̀̕g̬̈́̔̕͟ ͚̟̭ͮ̽̏͐͛̈́ͤ̕m̴̞̱̼͖͈͆̈́͂̕͞a͚̠̻̺̩̘̮̱ͧͣ̒̑̓ͅl̷̲͙̝̱̘̱̘̙͊̿̿̚op̻̞̹̣͔̙̥͗̐̋̂p̣ ̻͕̭j̞͙̖̩̱͑̄̄ͣ͐́eͮ͗̃̋̊ͯẗ̨̙̖̘̬͎̥̦́z͓̫̭̘͇͇͒ͤt̢̳͖̮͚̱̝̱͑ͭͧ ̧͇̼̆̅ͨ͛ͯ̃̽z̺̪͍ͤa̸̹̭ͮͪ̿ͣ̅ͧ̈c̠̮ͦͪ̂͛̊̑ͮ̀k͆͠i͉͍̓̀͒̃͗̾ǵ̩̫̥ ̳m̞̙̞̞͔̼ͪ̉̕a̞͈͉ and a pair of pretty nice shoes, even now in those dusty tunnels.

Well. Anyway.

"Any replies at all yet?"

Philip's got to wonder where all the other residents could be hiding. Or worse, how far into the mines they've been able to reach so far. Past that metal gate. It only gets worse from there...

"When I tried--" He huffs. "Had somebody asking where they keep the food, but that's about it."

He folds his arms with a concerned sigh. "A few, but mostly just people who are as lost as everyone else. I wish there was some kind of central area to this whole place, where people could easily meet."

Or if there was just some kind of map, aside from those little ones that are on the walls sometimes. And more lights, and...well, that's all getting into the realms of wishful thinking. Still, the abandoned mineshaft in Night Vale has HBO for crying out loud, so you'd think whoever designed this one could have spared some expense.

"Oh...food. I remember food."

"On the shelves," Philip adds absent-mindedly. "And the beef jerky, I don't think there's a single room without beef jerky in it somewhere, Christ..."

Not the first thing on his mind now, though. Instead he's remembering the maps, etched deeper into his memory than he cares to have them, mentally checking room after room for a suitable match.

"But there's... nothing like that."

(A lot further in there is a recreational area of sorts. It has one old TV set. As far as Philip remembers it's broken.)

"Erm, the central area, I mean, um... I guess there's the lake."

Hang on, not so fast. Wrong map

"Err, not here, but I found-- There was an office, a while back, supposedly there's a lake, deeper in. If we-- if that's true, and if we get there, that sounds... probably better than the alternatives, right?"

...Sure, why not. That about adds up.

"Really? Wow, you know something like that?" He tilts his head, listening to the rest of what Phillip is saying before he speaks up again. "You sure know a lot...have you been here before?"

It would be incredibly helpful to have someone with him who knows the layout of this place. And if they could find others, well, that would be perfect. They could form a group and Phillip could guide them...maybe they'd all finally find a way out.

"A lake, though, huh?" He taps his chin. "I guess there are underground lakes, huh? Do you know which way it was?"

Group work and relying on previous experience, huh? A solid plan, that train of thought. A good plan. Now if only it didn't depend on the guy who's turned being alone with his misery into a form of art.

Philip shakes his head.

"Just ran into the right reading material, I guess."

Huh. That felt surprisingly worse than he thought it would. Probably just a reminder, the pesky sort, of the feeling he had back when he really could've used somebody to tell him what the bloody hell was going on down here. Well, better just breathe through it.

"Erm, I do remember though. The map said... west of here, though it looked like it was still a good deal further in, at least- at least I couldn't find a tunnel that goes that far."

He found the one that's supposed to go that far, but much like this part of the mine was on the first day, it seems that the option of proceeding in that direction is still locked to them.

"Might be better to hope we don't actually get that far. Who knows what they've got waiting deeper in the tunnels."

A nervous laugh.

"Ahhh..." His shoulders slump. "I always seem to miss the maps. It's not really my fault. Maps are bad luck back home."

But never mind that now. Wonderland has its similarities to Night Vale, but they only extend so far. The basic laws of physics, for instance, are different.

He looks off in a direction he thinks might be west. Actually, he's just staring at a tunnel wall. He shudders a bit, thinking about what might be waiting further along.

"What should we do, then? Find other people, I suppose, but I just have no idea where we should go..."

The basic laws of physics in Wonderland never struck Philip as laws so much as arbitrary and capricious guidelines. Not the best nourishment for sanity, given his career, but then, a passion for movies has taught him a good deal of suspension of disbelief, if nothing else. And in the end it was really as simple as suspending the disbelief about your own life.

"Maps, huh?"

Philip looks around awkwardly. Admittedly he was really hoping for Cecil to have a plan, so he could discreetly opt out of the same, and continue doing his own thing. No matter how badly he wanted to see another human being the first time he ventured into these tunnels, it just seems that this time he has absolutely no clue what to do with the company.

"Er, I was thinking--"

Ditch him right this second, is what he was thinking, but without a plan to leave him with that just doesn't sit quite right with Philip.

"Right, I was thinking- strength in numbers, there's got to be others around somewhere. If we check the rooms, um... maybe somebody rigged up a safe zone somewhere."

Cecil is completely oblivious to the fact that Phillip might be trying to ditch him. Even if he was picking up on it, it wouldn't bother him that much. He knows he's off-putting, especially to non-Night Valeians, and this guy seems like a bit of a loner anyway.

"That's a good idea. Sure beats just wandering aimlessly, at least. I suppose if people were gonna be anywhere, it'd be in the rooms, or in any of those central crossroads type areas." He nods and gives a winning smile. "Alright! Well, you seem to know this place better than me, so I'll follow your lead."

He's like a puppy you just can't get rid of.

Philip nods and turns around with a wry smile, trying not to get 'better than I want to know it' and variations thereof grow too loud in his head. With any luck they'll actually run into a group soon, and he can casually take his leave then.

"Um, the first room nearby, I think it's- actually, there was a generator room just down that corridor, but I checked it earlier. So the next one, that's got to be... down that way, a storage room."

With any luck it won't even be locked this time, and Philip won't have to suggest a detour through a bunch of spider-infested tunnels. He gives Cecil a quick nod, and starts walking down the corridor, pickaxe ready in hand.

Cecil falls into step behind Phillip, plank of wood ready. "Do you know what this whole place is for? An underground lake, mine shafts, generators, beef jerky everywhere...none of it seems to make sense. You'd think there'd be more mine carts. Hmm..."

You learn to look at things a different way in Night Vale. A mine shaft is rarely just a mine shaft. Sometimes there's HBO, torture chambers, and secret pathways into Radon Canyon hidden down there. Who even mines for things anymore, anyway?

There used to be more carts, and more people, but then everyone went mad, or died, or both. Turns out they've got an ominous organisation in their sub-sub-sub basement, researching ancient alien tombs and releasing sentient viruses from god knows what planet or dimension. Whoops.

"Not a clue, honestly. Some of the stuff looks old. Maybe it's just scraps from whatever used to be here."

So hey, about that inconspicuous subject change...

"Hey, uh, those broadcasts you do, is that a recent thing, or- or did you do that for a living?"

"Yeah...it does all look like it hasn't been used in awhile. All the dust and cobwebs."

It's eerie, to say the least, even by Cecil's extremely high standards.

He perks up at the subject change, not noticing that Phillip clearly doesn't want to talk about the mines anymore.

"Oh, I have a radio show back home. 'Welcome to Night Vale.' It's pretty much the same as the one I do here--news, PSAs, local gossip, weather, all that good stuff. It's important to keep people informed about what's going on. Otherwise they'd never know what to panic about."

Philip would be flattered, he supposes, if he knew the exquisite standards of eeriness his memories were living up to. And they didn't even run into the portals yet, let alone any of the exploding ketchup, or disembodied voices (though for some reason he just can't bring himself to be especially broken up about that).

He laughs out loud, and the echo along the concrete tunnels promptly reminds him that he really shouldn't have laughed out loud. They'd never know what to panic about, come on, that's a good one though.

Still, he stops in his tracks, just in case. They don't always growl outright, actually it's usually to late once they do, but their paws, their claws always make that clacking sound on the floor, just enough to hear them coming, if you try. Philip tries. And hears nothing. Whew.

"Anything good to panic about in Wonderland lately? Other than this, I mean?"

Cecil stops short at the laughter, surprised at the way it echoes. Sounds do funny things underground, even moreso when you're already afraid. He stands still and keeps quiet, listening for any sigh of approach. The spiders don't make much sound and like to leap out of walls.

But for now, there's nothing coming. Cecil breathes again. Breathing, there's a funny thing.

"Hm, only the usual things. The endlessness of the void, the insignificance of mere existence, the mirrors, the inevitability of death..."

Better that echo than the ominous whispers leaking through the rocks when it's too quiet to hear anything else. Didn't surprise Philip one bit when he first found out about the miners going mad down here. The inevitability of death. Yep, that's about the end of that laugh.

"Cheerful," Philip mumbles and clears his throat. "Hey, erm, anyone in particular you're trying to find?"

Probably not the best sequitur from inevitable death, but he's been wondering. Took a while for it to cross his mind, because there weren't any others in the tunnels the first time around; but since there obviously are, well, some of those he could stand seeing more than others. Some of those he'd want to make sure are all right.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm looking for Carlos. He's a scientist with perfect hair and plenty of weekend lab coats. You haven't seen him, have you?"

There are others, but it's Carlos he's most worried about. The last time Carlos was even remotely underground, he almost died. Cecil tries to keep an upbeat attitude, tries to stay positive about these things, but...it's Carlos. He really can't help it.

"Uhhh... sorry."

Scientist, huh? Better hope those tunnels really end where Philip thinks they end, otherwise that Carlos might've had an unpleasant encounter with a few fellow academics (or zombie versions thereof) further into the mines.

"Sorry, no, you're... you're actually the first person I've seen down here."

"Ah...that's alright. It's a big place. I'm sure wherever he is, he's fine!"

He is Carlos, after all. He's survived Night Vale all this time; he can survive a few tunnels.

Cecil hopes, anyway.

"Yeah..."

Maybe that much could be said with more conviction, but in Philip's defence, it is kinda tough to put some good acting into a piece of reassurance, when you're distracted by compiling a list of everything capable of killing, maiming or traumatising you down in these tunnels.

And in just that moment Cecil's voice plays in Philip's head again, the answers he gave, that Carlos, and the entirety of their encounter making Philip feel that sharp pang of guilt over holding back, over revealing nowhere near as much as he could, and letting people go blind, forcing them through the same uncertainty he once suffered from, when he could ease that burden on them so easily, with just a few words, with something as simple as the truth.

And just in the moment after that Philip realises that it is high time for him to abscond, before he actually starts thinking that fessing up would be a good idea.

"Erm, hey. Hey, look over here!"

Philip points at a heavy door just in front of them, and nods at the wooden sign than hangs haphazardly on the wall next to it. STORAGE.

"Think that looks promising?"

But he's already stepped ahead, and reached for the latch on the door. The metal is cold in his hand, and Philip thinks back. Still one of the safer places he remembers, at least if that door works this time. Otherwise the only other access is through a set of spider-infested tunnels, and that's a revisit Philip could genuinely do without.

"He's very brave, my Carlos. He's probably helping people right this..." Cecil trails off and looks off down the tunnel behind them. "Did you hear that...?"

Hmm. Maybe he just imagined it, but he thought he heard something growl. He's still watching the tunnel when Phillip heads for door.

"Ah, wait!" He trots after Phillip, still casting worried glances over his shoulder. "Yeah, we might want to hide for a little while..."

Philip and imaginary sounds, that's another troubling love story right there. Actually, anybody and imaginary sounds is like a huge beacon for trouble, so it's probably a good thing Cecil leaves that conclusion unspoken, and an even better thing that Philip is still busy basking in relief, when he pulls at the door and its huge, metallic frame budges.

He pulls on it further, holds it open, and looks back.

"Did I what?"

Wait.

"Did I hear...?"

That... that can't be good, can it?

Cecil looks over his shoulder again, worried. "Maybe...maybe we should get in there first...? I thought I heard growling."

There it comes again. Low and quiet, from around a corner.

"Probably not plastic bags this time..."

"Plastic b--"

Actually, never mind that now, purchase-related receptacle or not, Philip can definitely hear that growl now, and what's more, he can see a set of yellow lights lurking just at the edge of darkness, knowing perfectly well what will emerge along with them in a second.

"Right, get in. Get in, hurry."

He hastily motions Cecil forward, still holding the door, quickly gripping his pickaxe tighter.

Cecil doesn't need to be told twice. He darts into the safety of the room, not even bothering to look back to see what's coming. There's a snarl from the darkness and the clicking of nails on concrete.

Definitely not plastic bags.

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radiopalkiller - 2013-12-07 22:13 (UTC) - Expand

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goodnightlisteners - 2013-12-07 23:18 (UTC) - Expand

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