Five had been restless that night. That wasn't unusual by any means, but nothing felt settled since they returned from the lake. He'd been overtired and irritable. Making poor judgment calls and taking unnecessary risks in an effort to retain control over an increasingly unwieldy situation. Letting himself get distracted from finding the rest of his family and finishing the math that would get them home. Part of him thought he was getting sick at the worst possible moment, but he couldn't afford the time to sleep it off when there are more important things to focus on.
He needs to get out of here.
That's the last thought he has before a shrieking noise jerks his attention. He seems to sense the undead before he ever hears them enter, and there's a strange pull that has him grabbing the wall to center himself. He shakes it off and teleports to where he has a sword waiting, only to be greeted by an undead that had already breached the farmhouse. A jump later and he severs the head from its body and watches it collapse in a satisfying heap.
Five doesn't see the next until he's stuck by a rush of agony, but by the time he turns, the body is on the floor and he can't find a wound on himself. Three more undead clamor into the small confines of the room, and he deals with all of them in quick succession, filling up the floor with gore and severed limbs.
There's no room to panic. From the sounds coming from further out the door, they're coming in at all angles, and of course this would happen now. He calls out for his sister and then gets a glimpse of what's coming out of the window.
The pull gets stronger and a dozen heads turn towards him all as one. Shit.
ii. day one - sunset
The battle rages into chaos after hours of conflict. He never stays in one place for long, but by sunset he's exhausted and low on his reserves. His thirteen-year-old body doesn't have the stamina to keep going like this, and by now he knows there's definitely something wrong with him. It's like a poison, spreading an anguish that he hasn't felt since he was an actual child and realized the grave mistake he'd made the first time he time traveled. Whatever it is, the undead seem drawn to him, even as some of their number miraculously fall before he even has a chance to end their misery.
It's not the time to be having a breakdown. A fire burns and snow falls like ash in the orange haze, and all he can see are mangled bodies and the twisted ruined landscape of the apocalypse. Closing his eyes doesn't make it disappear, as the smell of rotting corpses and embers fill his senses.
And there's something else, radiating and oppressive. When he looks up again he only catches a glimpse of the blue flames of a figure riding in on a hellbeast, and then he's doubled over on the frozen ground far from the house, where he doesn't remember blindly jumping to escape. The landing is rough, and his heart drums in his ears as he grips at his chest to try and calm it down.
A cold hand reaches him, and he reacts without thought, launching himself after the attacker.
iii. wildcard
[ ooc: Five can be found virtually anywhere as he bounces around trying to figure out what the fuck and generally being more stressed than you've ever seen. It's a slow burn but he'll be less rational as time goes on, having absorbed the anguish of all those undead, even after the fighting breaks. Plotting post is here (or send me a plurk/PM) if you'd like to talk about something outside of these prompts. (Also note that I misspoke on that plotting comment, he can drain some of the weakest undead regardless of their allegiance, as you like!) ]
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Five had been restless that night. That wasn't unusual by any means, but nothing felt settled since they returned from the lake. He'd been overtired and irritable. Making poor judgment calls and taking unnecessary risks in an effort to retain control over an increasingly unwieldy situation. Letting himself get distracted from finding the rest of his family and finishing the math that would get them home. Part of him thought he was getting sick at the worst possible moment, but he couldn't afford the time to sleep it off when there are more important things to focus on.
He needs to get out of here.
That's the last thought he has before a shrieking noise jerks his attention. He seems to sense the undead before he ever hears them enter, and there's a strange pull that has him grabbing the wall to center himself. He shakes it off and teleports to where he has a sword waiting, only to be greeted by an undead that had already breached the farmhouse. A jump later and he severs the head from its body and watches it collapse in a satisfying heap.
Five doesn't see the next until he's stuck by a rush of agony, but by the time he turns, the body is on the floor and he can't find a wound on himself. Three more undead clamor into the small confines of the room, and he deals with all of them in quick succession, filling up the floor with gore and severed limbs.
There's no room to panic. From the sounds coming from further out the door, they're coming in at all angles, and of course this would happen now. He calls out for his sister and then gets a glimpse of what's coming out of the window.
The pull gets stronger and a dozen heads turn towards him all as one. Shit.
ii. day one - sunset
The battle rages into chaos after hours of conflict. He never stays in one place for long, but by sunset he's exhausted and low on his reserves. His thirteen-year-old body doesn't have the stamina to keep going like this, and by now he knows there's definitely something wrong with him. It's like a poison, spreading an anguish that he hasn't felt since he was an actual child and realized the grave mistake he'd made the first time he time traveled. Whatever it is, the undead seem drawn to him, even as some of their number miraculously fall before he even has a chance to end their misery.
It's not the time to be having a breakdown. A fire burns and snow falls like ash in the orange haze, and all he can see are mangled bodies and the twisted ruined landscape of the apocalypse. Closing his eyes doesn't make it disappear, as the smell of rotting corpses and embers fill his senses.
And there's something else, radiating and oppressive. When he looks up again he only catches a glimpse of the blue flames of a figure riding in on a hellbeast, and then he's doubled over on the frozen ground far from the house, where he doesn't remember blindly jumping to escape. The landing is rough, and his heart drums in his ears as he grips at his chest to try and calm it down.
A cold hand reaches him, and he reacts without thought, launching himself after the attacker.
iii. wildcard
[ ooc: Five can be found virtually anywhere as he bounces around trying to figure out what the fuck and generally being more stressed than you've ever seen. It's a slow burn but he'll be less rational as time goes on, having absorbed the anguish of all those undead, even after the fighting breaks. Plotting post is here (or send me a plurk/PM) if you'd like to talk about something outside of these prompts. (Also note that I misspoke on that plotting comment, he can drain some of the weakest undead regardless of their allegiance, as you like!) ]