001 // [Video]
Jan. 2nd, 2012 05:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amnestias[With a jarring flicker the PCD comes to life, capturing a scene with dozens of dilapidated buildings reeling by in a mad rush. The recording jostles in time to an endless thud of hurried footfalls pattering out in the background; suggesting that it's been clipped to the owner's side while they run. But from what? An abrupt stop and pivot answers this question. Filled end to end with the sight of formidable shadows, the screen records as each begins peeling off from the surrounding darkness to step into what little illumination the oncoming dusk permits. These squat and swollen patches of darkness take on the angular appearance of mammoth rodents when the light catches their muddy-colored features. As if forced from nothing but gnashing teeth and muscle twitching with anticipation; they're the stuff of nightmares. And if that's not frightening enough they've begun to lurch closer with steady determination; straight for the PCD and it's owner.
There's a brief and flickering wash of light which touches on the camera's point of view. It ghosts just within the recording's line of sight from almost two locations just to the right and left of it. But whatever caused the twin bursts of luminescence don't lower into the field of view- they aren't given the chase. A heartbeat later the looming rodents react like some unseen signal had been thrown down, and they rush whoever the PCD's owner might be in a mad and terrible scramble.
An open maw littered with teeth, yellow and rotten, is instantly wide as it gapes over the screen in something akin to slow motion. But a blur of that light from before swings in close, knocking the offending threat away with a broken off shriek from the rodent itself. In the struggle the PCD is cast aside amongst all the motion; flung off in a wild and dizzying spin to land haphazardly below the skirmish. Only when the camera's viewfinder ceases teetering does it once again catch the unfolding chaos. It's a maddening swarm of frenzied bodies all frothing, biting and tearing at the figure who seems cloaked head to toe in black. With him are twin blades of constant motion, each hand swinging blows which only break through briefly. You see, as one writhing rodent's body is cut down two other bloated beasts rush in to replace it.]
Ugh. Get off of me..!
[The voice, clearly a boy's by the lit and depth, is suddenly cut off as the creatures pile over him and each other- as if coalescing into one conjoined blob over their pinned prey. Gnawing and biting, even into one another, they seem to ring out a victory by the sheer fact of the overwhelming silence that follows. That is, save for the sounds of the living feeding on their dead kin beside, under and around them. Still whirling away the communication device continues with it's electronic recording, even as an arc of that eerie white illumination slices straight through the center of the heaving mass of feasting rodents. Once, twice- a third time. And then there isn't a sound in the air; nor seemingly anything living in the wake of the carnage. For a while the only motion comes from the puddles of blood so dark that these take on the look of liquid obsidian as they ooze out, creeping towards the PCD's screen.
Until the figure in black emerges from what had been intended as his grave; slick with gore and an air of tension about him. There's not a hint of pride or victory in his step or the way he curtly moves closer and then stoops to pluck his PCD up from the brittle and worn pavement below. The cloak obscuring almost every inch of his face gives no hint to the expressions playing out there; but the way he almost grinds out his question to the darkness speaks volumes.]
What's with this place?! ...Feels like I'm just going in circles and these things just get worse the longer I'm here.
There's a brief and flickering wash of light which touches on the camera's point of view. It ghosts just within the recording's line of sight from almost two locations just to the right and left of it. But whatever caused the twin bursts of luminescence don't lower into the field of view- they aren't given the chase. A heartbeat later the looming rodents react like some unseen signal had been thrown down, and they rush whoever the PCD's owner might be in a mad and terrible scramble.
An open maw littered with teeth, yellow and rotten, is instantly wide as it gapes over the screen in something akin to slow motion. But a blur of that light from before swings in close, knocking the offending threat away with a broken off shriek from the rodent itself. In the struggle the PCD is cast aside amongst all the motion; flung off in a wild and dizzying spin to land haphazardly below the skirmish. Only when the camera's viewfinder ceases teetering does it once again catch the unfolding chaos. It's a maddening swarm of frenzied bodies all frothing, biting and tearing at the figure who seems cloaked head to toe in black. With him are twin blades of constant motion, each hand swinging blows which only break through briefly. You see, as one writhing rodent's body is cut down two other bloated beasts rush in to replace it.]
Ugh. Get off of me..!
[The voice, clearly a boy's by the lit and depth, is suddenly cut off as the creatures pile over him and each other- as if coalescing into one conjoined blob over their pinned prey. Gnawing and biting, even into one another, they seem to ring out a victory by the sheer fact of the overwhelming silence that follows. That is, save for the sounds of the living feeding on their dead kin beside, under and around them. Still whirling away the communication device continues with it's electronic recording, even as an arc of that eerie white illumination slices straight through the center of the heaving mass of feasting rodents. Once, twice- a third time. And then there isn't a sound in the air; nor seemingly anything living in the wake of the carnage. For a while the only motion comes from the puddles of blood so dark that these take on the look of liquid obsidian as they ooze out, creeping towards the PCD's screen.
Until the figure in black emerges from what had been intended as his grave; slick with gore and an air of tension about him. There's not a hint of pride or victory in his step or the way he curtly moves closer and then stoops to pluck his PCD up from the brittle and worn pavement below. The cloak obscuring almost every inch of his face gives no hint to the expressions playing out there; but the way he almost grinds out his question to the darkness speaks volumes.]
What's with this place?! ...Feels like I'm just going in circles and these things just get worse the longer I'm here.
