[ There is a gnawing, roaring pit in the back of Jim's mind. It writhes, oily and wailing, seeping into the empty spaces of his consciousness with a hideous glee as he rouses, pulling his piecemeal sentience to the surface. He's avoided sleep, this creature that's inhabiting Jim's skin; the nightmares are overwhelmingly persistent, nothing but death which the shrieking void seems to enjoy - or worse yet, the torment of life. The Gnosia hunger is strong, but Jim - he has known true hunger, true pain, and when he takes to rest, the Gnosia feeds on it - pulls it to the surface, smothering the rest of him beneath the suffocating memories.
Jim wakes from the fitful sleep in an unfamiliar place, eyes darting wildly as he slowly sits up, taking in the town square, cobblestone beneath his hands. It's eerie, with City Hall dark and shuttered, empty - like most of Aldrip, these days. This doesn't seem to bother him, though the question remains - how did he get here? More importantly - where was the Spock...
He can feel him still, though the bond that threads through their addled minds is dormant, for the moment - less active, presumably Spock is still asleep. The crawling itch on his skin is harder to fight without him there; they had, unwittingly, tethered each other to what little of their right minds still remained. Jim stands, scanning over the person next to him.
Jim recognizes him, though it feels like a distant memory - it feels like ages, since he's lived that life - the Gnosia has consumed his existence for the past...he's not sure. Time, it seemed, was consumed as well. He also knows, however, that his fleeting ruse, his barely-passable attempts at humanity - the tactic Jim and Spock have been utilizing to lure people into their traps, secreting them off to be stored, a collection of bodies - is pointless here. Before the Gnosia had taken hold, they had left a note - the Doctor knew what he was. He would not be fooled.
It's probably a good thing the screen is separating them, a red line surrounding their feet, no doubt set to zap them should they try to cross it - they can't reach each other, and they can't get leave without answering the questions that are to follow. Jim doesn't even read the first one projected on the screen, leaning closer to it - it's a decidedly threatening motion, gaze flickering over the transparent divider - looking for a weakness, perhaps.
Jim's attention finally settles squarely on Bones, a sharp grin pulling at his mouth, all teeth. There's a rip in his shirt - several, actually, it resembles a shirt at his shoulders, but not so much, the further down it goes. Dried blood is caked on his pants, though it's difficult to determine if any of it is his - what can be seen, however, is that some of it is decidedly copper-based; Spock was hurt, and badly enough that there's a decent amount of him spilt over Jim. ]
Hi, Bones. [ Jim's tone is deceptively sweet, and he presses a hand against the screen, transparency flickering around his palm - but it holds, and he makes no further attempt to reach him. ] Long time, no see.
[ closed ] nightmare gameshow for Bones
Jim wakes from the fitful sleep in an unfamiliar place, eyes darting wildly as he slowly sits up, taking in the town square, cobblestone beneath his hands. It's eerie, with City Hall dark and shuttered, empty - like most of Aldrip, these days. This doesn't seem to bother him, though the question remains - how did he get here? More importantly - where was the Spock...
He can feel him still, though the bond that threads through their addled minds is dormant, for the moment - less active, presumably Spock is still asleep. The crawling itch on his skin is harder to fight without him there; they had, unwittingly, tethered each other to what little of their right minds still remained. Jim stands, scanning over the person next to him.
Jim recognizes him, though it feels like a distant memory - it feels like ages, since he's lived that life - the Gnosia has consumed his existence for the past...he's not sure. Time, it seemed, was consumed as well. He also knows, however, that his fleeting ruse, his barely-passable attempts at humanity - the tactic Jim and Spock have been utilizing to lure people into their traps, secreting them off to be stored, a collection of bodies - is pointless here. Before the Gnosia had taken hold, they had left a note - the Doctor knew what he was. He would not be fooled.
It's probably a good thing the screen is separating them, a red line surrounding their feet, no doubt set to zap them should they try to cross it - they can't reach each other, and they can't get leave without answering the questions that are to follow. Jim doesn't even read the first one projected on the screen, leaning closer to it - it's a decidedly threatening motion, gaze flickering over the transparent divider - looking for a weakness, perhaps.
Jim's attention finally settles squarely on Bones, a sharp grin pulling at his mouth, all teeth. There's a rip in his shirt - several, actually, it resembles a shirt at his shoulders, but not so much, the further down it goes. Dried blood is caked on his pants, though it's difficult to determine if any of it is his - what can be seen, however, is that some of it is decidedly copper-based; Spock was hurt, and badly enough that there's a decent amount of him spilt over Jim. ]
Hi, Bones. [ Jim's tone is deceptively sweet, and he presses a hand against the screen, transparency flickering around his palm - but it holds, and he makes no further attempt to reach him. ] Long time, no see.