[ you know, eddie might just need the same sort of solid proof as steve does that this isn't some sort of sick joke. that this isn't some pre-post death hallucination before everything fades into nothing. he tries not to think of the fact that everything already had faded into nothingness, an endless glassy void in the midst of which he stood. so yeah, a nice old proof of life might do them both some good. something other than an ethereal conversation that even sounds like it shouldn't be real, just some echoing ghost of a memory instead.
eddie nods along, emphatic, before it quickly turns to a roll of his eyes. ] It's the tone, man. I wonder who Henderson gets it from! [ despite that, there's little heat in the retort that falls on no ears at all. he taps the light, twice, curt little answers. ] Yeah, yeah. You be careful, big boy.
[ and eddie goes to lift himself back up. it feels about as expected, as he's winded by the time he's upright. or as close to upright as he can get, with hands braced on his knees and head spinning. the problem with taking breaks when every single part of you has been running on nothing but adrenaline and some spiteful need to keep moving, is that when the lethargy sets in, anything after hurts all that much more. his sides strain, reminders of the bites that had torn through fabric and skin. it looked like his jackets had managed to keep away anything that would make him bleed out to death (again). he hadn't really considered which part exactly it was that did him in before. which one of the bites? or the tails?
he grits his teeth, and there's that metallic tang along his tongue. he runs his hands over and under his shirt, and much to his surprise, they mostly come away dry. nothing miraculously healed, no. but coagulated enough that he could keep moving. he could walk, in the most lose term of the word and he isn't even sure how long he'd walked before.
mind's capable of crazy things when the crazy is all around you, he supposed. it's a little difficult to move away from the light, the spike of disquiet rolling in the pit of his belly. okay. okay. just get to the highway. that's halfway between here and the trailer park. give or take. he can do this, and — and steve will be on the other side.
its a slow and stiff journey, between trying to stay conscious and not tripping into some creepy wine that always looked perpetually moist. but when he turns on the highway, the small two lane road leading to what he can only hope is his salvation, he gawks. ] What the hell?
[ that's not one small portal, anymore. that thing is a chasm. stretching far beyond the very epicenter, even as eddie almost dutifully tracks to the point in the road that served as the crack in the windshield. if a windshield is interdimensional. ] Don't tell me this is as bad as it looks. [ muttered, under breath and suddenly all the more away of just how goddamn tired he is. he doesn't have it in him to be frightened, either, too focused on using the last bits of his energy to find the very point on the road that matters. he peers over the edge, takes a deep breath, and plunges the dull end of the makeshift spear through, to try and look through to the other side. here's to hoping that one perfectly hairsprayed head of hair is looking right back. ]
no subject
eddie nods along, emphatic, before it quickly turns to a roll of his eyes. ] It's the tone, man. I wonder who Henderson gets it from! [ despite that, there's little heat in the retort that falls on no ears at all. he taps the light, twice, curt little answers. ] Yeah, yeah. You be careful, big boy.
[ and eddie goes to lift himself back up. it feels about as expected, as he's winded by the time he's upright. or as close to upright as he can get, with hands braced on his knees and head spinning. the problem with taking breaks when every single part of you has been running on nothing but adrenaline and some spiteful need to keep moving, is that when the lethargy sets in, anything after hurts all that much more. his sides strain, reminders of the bites that had torn through fabric and skin. it looked like his jackets had managed to keep away anything that would make him bleed out to death (again). he hadn't really considered which part exactly it was that did him in before. which one of the bites? or the tails?
he grits his teeth, and there's that metallic tang along his tongue. he runs his hands over and under his shirt, and much to his surprise, they mostly come away dry. nothing miraculously healed, no. but coagulated enough that he could keep moving. he could walk, in the most lose term of the word and he isn't even sure how long he'd walked before.
mind's capable of crazy things when the crazy is all around you, he supposed. it's a little difficult to move away from the light, the spike of disquiet rolling in the pit of his belly. okay. okay. just get to the highway. that's halfway between here and the trailer park. give or take. he can do this, and — and steve will be on the other side.
its a slow and stiff journey, between trying to stay conscious and not tripping into some creepy wine that always looked perpetually moist. but when he turns on the highway, the small two lane road leading to what he can only hope is his salvation, he gawks. ] What the hell?
[ that's not one small portal, anymore. that thing is a chasm. stretching far beyond the very epicenter, even as eddie almost dutifully tracks to the point in the road that served as the crack in the windshield. if a windshield is interdimensional. ] Don't tell me this is as bad as it looks. [ muttered, under breath and suddenly all the more away of just how goddamn tired he is. he doesn't have it in him to be frightened, either, too focused on using the last bits of his energy to find the very point on the road that matters. he peers over the edge, takes a deep breath, and plunges the dull end of the makeshift spear through, to try and look through to the other side. here's to hoping that one perfectly hairsprayed head of hair is looking right back. ]