[Wirt groans at that discovery, feeling tired all over again.]
That...that. Sounds about right. He made me eat a bunch of raw meat too, and some plant outside that's been making me sick. [That hasn't been fun.] But, um. I found out that he can't possess me if I'm unconscious-- or if my body's unconscious, I mean, so...I waited him out. He kept me awake for like, about three days? Eventually my body just gave out and I took it back. ...Of course, when that happened I got hit with all of the side effects of everything he'd done to it. I was so exhausted after that that I just face-planted into bed.
[He was so tired that it hadn't even occurred to him in the moment to be afraid of falling asleep, lest Bill come back. Evidently he hadn't though - as tired as Wirt looks, he's definitely gotten a little bit of sleep between bouts of illness. His body's needs had been too strong for even his worst anxiety to argue with.
Now that he's had some sleep though, it's been coming back in spades. Something Cami said earlier finally sinks in and his eyes go wide with horror. His voice actually squeaks, and he finally has a reaction to the thought of a poetry reading that is more typical of him.]
W-Wait. Poetry? ...H-He didn't read any of my poetry, right? Right? [Wirt doesn't wait for an answer before he turns and sits upright to look toward the papers he has taped to his walls, looking for some sign that something is out of place, some sign that Bill tore down some of his poetry to go read to a crowd of who even knows how many people? Everything seems to be in order, but Wirt pushes his hands up past his temples to tangle in his already messy hair.] He was messing around with my clarinet though, a-and I wouldn't put it past him to try and completely ruin my life like that. Oh my god, I'm never going to be able to set foot in there again....
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That...that. Sounds about right. He made me eat a bunch of raw meat too, and some plant outside that's been making me sick. [That hasn't been fun.] But, um. I found out that he can't possess me if I'm unconscious-- or if my body's unconscious, I mean, so...I waited him out. He kept me awake for like, about three days? Eventually my body just gave out and I took it back. ...Of course, when that happened I got hit with all of the side effects of everything he'd done to it. I was so exhausted after that that I just face-planted into bed.
[He was so tired that it hadn't even occurred to him in the moment to be afraid of falling asleep, lest Bill come back. Evidently he hadn't though - as tired as Wirt looks, he's definitely gotten a little bit of sleep between bouts of illness. His body's needs had been too strong for even his worst anxiety to argue with.
Now that he's had some sleep though, it's been coming back in spades. Something Cami said earlier finally sinks in and his eyes go wide with horror. His voice actually squeaks, and he finally has a reaction to the thought of a poetry reading that is more typical of him.]
W-Wait. Poetry? ...H-He didn't read any of my poetry, right? Right? [Wirt doesn't wait for an answer before he turns and sits upright to look toward the papers he has taped to his walls, looking for some sign that something is out of place, some sign that Bill tore down some of his poetry to go read to a crowd of who even knows how many people? Everything seems to be in order, but Wirt pushes his hands up past his temples to tangle in his already messy hair.] He was messing around with my clarinet though, a-and I wouldn't put it past him to try and completely ruin my life like that. Oh my god, I'm never going to be able to set foot in there again....