i wanna tell you a story. ain't got no characters in it but me. i wanna sing you a sad song. most of it i don't expect you to believe. it starts off just the whiskey and wine, miles of travel and some real good times. but it ends in a dark corridor, and there ain't no windows and there ain't no doors.
29th-Dec-2013 06:18 pm
[ I won't be the one left behind this time!
Brady's scowling as usual, but with real anger this time. Anger, and a mounting sense of dread. Giving the frosted glass of their new prison a resentful punch only makes his knuckles throb with pain, but that's fine. Maybe it will clear his head a bit, make it possible to think again.
He can hardly stand to look at the knife and the bottle with the ominous markings.]
[Has he ever felt this useless before? It's certainly possible — Brady and failure, perceived or otherwise, tended to go hand-in-hand ever since he was a small child too clumsy and inexperienced to properly draw the bow across the strings of his violin.
He opens his mouth, then closes it and shrugs instead. Nothing he said could make this easier. He didn't have the words, almost never did. Just feelings, babbled out in an idiotic rush, or tears.]
[ If he has feelings, she'll get them out of him one way or the other. Yelling usually works for her, but if he resists for too long, she just might end up getting physical with him instead.
The thought of leaving him a scar to remember her by is entertained for a few seconds before she shoves away the selfish desire. Hurting Brady causes her chest to ache more and it's painful enough being like this. ]
Y-Your words are all I'm going to have with me when I go so the least you can do is get them out of the way!
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He opens his mouth, then closes it and shrugs instead. Nothing he said could make this easier. He didn't have the words, almost never did. Just feelings, babbled out in an idiotic rush, or tears.]