[ why is this smell starting to remind her of the Corndog Murders...
yeah, she opens it. as ominous as this is starting to feel, eupha has no cultural context for scary carnival stuff (other than the aforementioned murders). there must be some logical reason for all of this? ]
Except when she opens the door to the kitchen, it's not there anymore. Instead it's pitch dark. Instead a new stink engulfs her: waste, swirling, trickling. Thick enough to make you faint, wafting out and around her and swelling through the room.
The light from the lounge reflects just enough into the tunnel that the kitchen has become, reflecting off the foul grey water and the caked feces along the rounded sides. And still the music plays, louder now.
Then there's footsteps in the water. Too distant to see who's wading forward, but the last trickles of borrowed light hit something in that abyss. Two eyes, flashing like a wolf in the dark. Silver like newly minted coins.]
[Walking quickly is a good idea. The thing in the distance thinks so too.
Those silver eyes suddenly rush forward, the water a torrent under sprinting feet. And then there's a silhouette — a man of some sort, his clothes baggy and gathered at the wrists and ankles, hair tufted off the side of his head. Silver clothes, orange pompoms down the front, greasepaint caked face with a red grinning smile, coming up fast as a bullet train, gloved hands reaching out—
A hand grabs her shoulder from behind. A familiar voice follows it.]
[ eupha doesn't scream. perhaps she would, but it feels like something catches in her throat.
she tries to kick at the thing reaching for her, but then something grabs her from behind, and she gives a violent start, flailing and jabbing her elbow into the person behind her. ]
[well she slays one devilish foe. The figure behind stumbles back, letting her go at once.
And with the sudden sharpness of the pain, the vision is gone. No mad dashing figure, no stink, no music, no sewers. The kitchen and all its cabinets and counters are what lies beyond the door now, as it always has been. Always should be.
Behind her Richie Tozier rubs his ribs and stands up straight, making sure to catch her eyes (the normal two). Checking her over, pale but nodding his head.]
It's okay, you had every right. You're not gonna put me in traction.
[His lips purse. He looks around, makes certain there's no other signs of strangeness. It's always hard to shake though, that dreadful feeling. Like it might come back at any moment.]
What do you say we get out of here? Go grab a nice cup of tea at the cafe or something? No need to stick around when the mood's so grim, huh?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
yeah, she opens it. as ominous as this is starting to feel, eupha has no cultural context for scary carnival stuff (other than the aforementioned murders). there must be some logical reason for all of this? ]
cw: sewage
Except when she opens the door to the kitchen, it's not there anymore. Instead it's pitch dark. Instead a new stink engulfs her: waste, swirling, trickling. Thick enough to make you faint, wafting out and around her and swelling through the room.
The light from the lounge reflects just enough into the tunnel that the kitchen has become, reflecting off the foul grey water and the caked feces along the rounded sides. And still the music plays, louder now.
Then there's footsteps in the water. Too distant to see who's wading forward, but the last trickles of borrowed light hit something in that abyss. Two eyes, flashing like a wolf in the dark. Silver like newly minted coins.]
Howyadoin', Richie.
[it's not her name its calling.]
no subject
and then there is something approaching, and... she freezes at the sight of those eyes.
she steps back towards the lounge. and then takes another step. as if hoping she can just quietly walk out of here. ]
no subject
Those silver eyes suddenly rush forward, the water a torrent under sprinting feet. And then there's a silhouette — a man of some sort, his clothes baggy and gathered at the wrists and ankles, hair tufted off the side of his head. Silver clothes, orange pompoms down the front, greasepaint caked face with a red grinning smile, coming up fast as a bullet train, gloved hands reaching out—
A hand grabs her shoulder from behind. A familiar voice follows it.]
Eupha!
no subject
she tries to kick at the thing reaching for her, but then something grabs her from behind, and she gives a violent start, flailing and jabbing her elbow into the person behind her. ]
no subject
[well she slays one devilish foe. The figure behind stumbles back, letting her go at once.
And with the sudden sharpness of the pain, the vision is gone. No mad dashing figure, no stink, no music, no sewers. The kitchen and all its cabinets and counters are what lies beyond the door now, as it always has been. Always should be.
Behind her Richie Tozier rubs his ribs and stands up straight, making sure to catch her eyes (the normal two). Checking her over, pale but nodding his head.]
Eupha, you're all right. Okay? It's not here.
no subject
An illusion...?
[ another moment, and she starts breathing again, like she just remembered that she should. ]
no subject
[Richie nods again. Tries for her shoulder once more, now that she's coming back into herself.]
Seems like a thing this week. Thoughts and uh. Visions, I guess.
[Nightmares.]
You all right, kid? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spook you.
no subject
... Yes... I'm all right.
Did I hit you? I'm sorry.
no subject
[His lips purse. He looks around, makes certain there's no other signs of strangeness. It's always hard to shake though, that dreadful feeling. Like it might come back at any moment.]
What do you say we get out of here? Go grab a nice cup of tea at the cafe or something? No need to stick around when the mood's so grim, huh?
no subject
I would like that.
And... please don't worry about what just happened. It was only a momentary fright, nothing more.
[ she doesn't want him to blame himself. ]