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[ The narration will be collapsing into bed pronto, but let's get this posted while it can at least pretend that it's still Wednesday night.
Alex woke up in a foul-smelling bathroom, surrounded by rubble and his own dried blood, and remembered everything. Things he'd said. Things he'd thought. Things he'd done.
And his death.
His room was close by. Eventually, when he felt able to move, he went there. He found clothes that weren't torn and brittle and stained that dark brown-red. Now the feed flicks on without his realising it, to show him sitting on the floor in his darkened room, back against the foot of his bed, arms around his knees, staring at nothing. Behind him and to the right, the bank of camcorders is a quiet silhouette, one of the recording lights finally blinking again.
At one point, he lifts his hand and moves it over his face, his completely human face. Then he lowers the arm and is still again.
The feed times out after about ten minutes. ]
((ooc: only the stuff after "the feed flicks on" is visible on the monitors; the rest was for continuity.))
Alex woke up in a foul-smelling bathroom, surrounded by rubble and his own dried blood, and remembered everything. Things he'd said. Things he'd thought. Things he'd done.
And his death.
His room was close by. Eventually, when he felt able to move, he went there. He found clothes that weren't torn and brittle and stained that dark brown-red. Now the feed flicks on without his realising it, to show him sitting on the floor in his darkened room, back against the foot of his bed, arms around his knees, staring at nothing. Behind him and to the right, the bank of camcorders is a quiet silhouette, one of the recording lights finally blinking again.
At one point, he lifts his hand and moves it over his face, his completely human face. Then he lowers the arm and is still again.
The feed times out after about ten minutes. ]
((ooc: only the stuff after "the feed flicks on" is visible on the monitors; the rest was for continuity.))
