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ajremixTitle: Roll the Bones: Schrödinger Inside
Fandom: Skip Tracers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 432
Characters: Balt
In Response to:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
oc_speedfic’s sweet challenge
Summary: Set two years before the series starts.
This is death, Balt would think but he isn’t able to remember when his last thought was. He’s not breathing because he can’t hear himself in the this box and he’s not blinking because the darkness is just as complete behind his eyelids. Even his body no longer hurts or aches and if Balt could feel anything maybe he’d be glad for it. Maybe he’s been in there for only an hour, maybe years. Maybe if he weren’t a corpse he would care a little.
But then darkness seeps the life out of him and if Balt is still alive he’d wish he’s dead.
If he’s alive he would notice the sky was ripping open and a pantheon of hands are reaching for him. It’s only when he’s being lifted does Balt remember to live again. The first breath is like a shock, the second a shudder and the third he’s sobbing because he can see and heard and taste the wind and feel the scream as his body stretches for the first time. Hands are on his head and neck and jaw, tilting it back and his mouth is opened, something spilling into it. At first he chokes, shocked at the sweetest, coldest, freshest water he ever remembers drinking. He tries to thank them as he drinks and coughs against the water. But the hands are insistent and so is Balt. It’s only when the water is pulled away does he realize he wishes he could drown in it. It brings a slight, tingling refreshment to his limbs and a painful ache to his empty stomach.
Synopsis in Balt’s brain is firing faintly and he vaguely recalls language. The shrill words and whistling syllables are awkward on his tongue, but he speaks anyway. “What do you want from me?” It’s then he realizes he can’t see out of his left eye and when he tries to reach to feel his face his arms burn white, still bound behind his back.
The hands holding him must not hear, not understand or not care. But they can speak and one of them trills of one word that Balt almost didn’t catch.
“Return.”
The hands drag him back to the box. “No.” He says, betrayed. “No. No, please.” He tries to struggle but can barely move his mouth. “Please don’t! No, please! NO!” They force him back on his knees in the descending darkness, cutting him off from life and reality. “NO! Let me out! PLEASE!” And the black swallows up these words as it did all the others and Balt screams himself dead.
Fandom: Skip Tracers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 432
Characters: Balt
In Response to:
oc_speedfic’s sweet challengeSummary: Set two years before the series starts.
This is death, Balt would think but he isn’t able to remember when his last thought was. He’s not breathing because he can’t hear himself in the this box and he’s not blinking because the darkness is just as complete behind his eyelids. Even his body no longer hurts or aches and if Balt could feel anything maybe he’d be glad for it. Maybe he’s been in there for only an hour, maybe years. Maybe if he weren’t a corpse he would care a little.
But then darkness seeps the life out of him and if Balt is still alive he’d wish he’s dead.
If he’s alive he would notice the sky was ripping open and a pantheon of hands are reaching for him. It’s only when he’s being lifted does Balt remember to live again. The first breath is like a shock, the second a shudder and the third he’s sobbing because he can see and heard and taste the wind and feel the scream as his body stretches for the first time. Hands are on his head and neck and jaw, tilting it back and his mouth is opened, something spilling into it. At first he chokes, shocked at the sweetest, coldest, freshest water he ever remembers drinking. He tries to thank them as he drinks and coughs against the water. But the hands are insistent and so is Balt. It’s only when the water is pulled away does he realize he wishes he could drown in it. It brings a slight, tingling refreshment to his limbs and a painful ache to his empty stomach.
Synopsis in Balt’s brain is firing faintly and he vaguely recalls language. The shrill words and whistling syllables are awkward on his tongue, but he speaks anyway. “What do you want from me?” It’s then he realizes he can’t see out of his left eye and when he tries to reach to feel his face his arms burn white, still bound behind his back.
The hands holding him must not hear, not understand or not care. But they can speak and one of them trills of one word that Balt almost didn’t catch.
“Return.”
The hands drag him back to the box. “No.” He says, betrayed. “No. No, please.” He tries to struggle but can barely move his mouth. “Please don’t! No, please! NO!” They force him back on his knees in the descending darkness, cutting him off from life and reality. “NO! Let me out! PLEASE!” And the black swallows up these words as it did all the others and Balt screams himself dead.
