Name's Jane Doe.. A few of my companions seem to lounge around here quite often, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to join as well. I.. look forward to interacting with all of you.
Whilst I am happy to welcome you with open arms, I have a few guidelines I want to make clear:
💕 Please don't be weird, I'd prefer not having any sexual content directed at me..
💕 Generally everyone is welcome here.. I have no plans to exclude anyone. As stated previously, just.. don't be weird. Thank you.
💕 This doesn't mean I tolerate disrespect, or anything gross here.. I won't hesitate to rid of you if you happen to be disrespectful.
💕 I'll.. think of more later. Enjoy your stay, stranger. Be careful out there..
IN CHARACTER RESPONSES WILL LOOK LIKE THIS (ACTIONS WILL BE COLORLESS IN BOLD)
// OOC RESPONSES WILL BE COLORLESS + HAVE TWO SLASHES AT THE START
hey hey hey!! mod @saturnphen here coming in with their first ever parody blog! i love jane doe, she's my favorite one of them all.. blog is inspired by a few other tr:ud parody blogs!
to clarify: please do NOT send NSFW asks or anything of the sort as mod is a minor.
headcanons will be present! jane doe's a little anxious and softspoken, but surely she'll warm up over time, yeah?
all types of interactions are welcome and encouraged!! m!a will be allowed, but use your common sense, i may or may not accept some forms of it.
i'll upload a reference of her sooner or later when i have the time! overall, have fun with the silly healer gal!!
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Oooooh, you must be that doctor lady, right? Always carries your medkit around like it's your only lifeline! I do wonder if you take dissecting lessons, I'm just soooooo dying to find out what your insides looks like! Hehehe!!
(//c00lkid impression, how does Jane reacts? At this point, I question if I should make parody of him)
“…You’re going to have to be specific about what type of ‘dissection’ you’d like to do on me. Whilst the term of anatomical study is commonly more used for animals, I suppose it could also be used for humans- though cadaveric dissection isn’t exactly humane, I would say? Or are you talking about surgery? Because if so, you really could’ve just said so, since usage of the term ‘dissecting’ suggests otherwise.”
Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
-> Gentle scraping.
-> Rustling of leaves.
-> Rocks rumbling from being pushed out of their place.
-> There he was, still present in the last outfit he wore... That slightly darken button up shirt, not ripped and blood stained in places. His familiar blue tie, dangling slightly from being loosen and ripped in half. Dark pants and old shoes that Jane had told him to replace multiple times, although he never listened.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him. That was… John Doe, was it? She recognised that outfit of his all too well.
She’d seen him a good amount of times- But seeing that mangled arm of his up close was horrifying. It was unsalvageable, to say the very least, but it also looked painful.
In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died. That was her brother, and she finally had a moment with him alone, after so long. She turned to face John Doe lurking in the shadows, fists clenched.
-> Nothing came from him. No voice, no sounds, no nothing. All that was there was that dull smile, those lifeless eyes that almost gleamed in the moonlight.
-> It was John, but it also wasn't him. He was an shell. A corrupted shell within something locked away inside, buried down and contained within the darkest parts of his mind, as if trying salvage whatever was left of him.
-> A glimmering came from his head as he moved forward, some strange crown sitting atop his once perfectly neat and well-kept hair. It was a crown... Golden, dulled and banged up a little, strange little black... Veins? It was hard to tell, wrapped around the edges of the crown and were painfully stuck within the man's forehead, little lines of dried blood could be seen.
-> Despite his silence, he was in agony.
Her face grew increasingly worried as the two of them approached each other. She tensed up as she walked closer to him, bracing for impact. She’d had the displeasure of seeing John lose his mind- the moment where everything had mainly gone to shit, and she knew what he was capable of.
All she could do now was hope for the unlikely best, which each step she took towards him. How gullible of her.
-> John stilled, allowing Jane to approach him at her own pace. So many things were screaming at John to kill this "survivor", to kill his own fucking sister. But he couldn't. Oh how could a big brother EVER consider hurting his little sister? A sin, that's what it was. A sin to even consider killing a loved one.
-> His massive arm twitched as if ITCHING to attack, to clobber the poor girl who stood in front of him. But he didn't dare to move an inch, keeping himself as still and stiff as a board.
-> He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't hurt her. No matter what the voices were telling him.
She took a step, and then another, until she stood right in front of John. If it wasn’t extremely obvious by now, that was definitely… John Doe, or to put it more fit, his body. What had remained of his face was twisted into two blank eyes and a crude, upturned smile.
It hurt, seeing her brother so… lifeless, when before he had been anything but. But it hurt more to know she had done this to him. How she had sucked the soul out of her older brother- the most high-spirited person she’d known, and turned him into a husk for her bidding.
"....."
-> He stared and breathed heavily. He wanted to speak, to say so many things. But he couldn't. He couldn't fucking talk, his body twitching slightly in frustration.
-> She wouldn't let him talk. Xploit wouldn't let him talk. He wanted nothing more than to say something, anything to reassure his sister that... Well- He honestly didn't know.
She lifted a hand, tentatively placing it on the part of John’s shoulder that… didn’t have that crackly, red code scribbled over his body. If this was some sort of dream her head was making up as a last result, she never wanted it to end. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked him over.
God, did he look a mess. She wanted to say something, anything to just… reassure him, something that John would always do whenever he caught Jane feeling down in the dumps.
“I… I should’ve done something… John…”
But what was there to say? She couldn’t do anything, not with Triple Six and the thing he’d created being in constant control of him.
-> John twitched a little, his massive arm lifting up ever so slightly before falling back to the ground with a gentle thumb, the floor shaking slightly as he did so. It hurt, god it fucking HURT to move that arm.
-> With whatever effort he could muster, he lifted up his normal hand, fingers twitching and shaking slightly. He wanted to touch his sister. He wanted to cup her cheek and feel her warm skin under his fingers. He missed Jane, he missed her so fucking much.
-> He wanted nothing more than to hug her again. His beloved baby sister.
“It… John, it hasn’t been the same since… since your experiment- Xploit went rogue. It’s been too long…”
Well, that was a start. She swallowed, trying to keep herself in check so her voice didn’t fail on her this early on in the little conversation they were currently having.
-> John choked a little and weakly gripped his own throat, dirty nails digging into his skin. He couldn't speak, his throat burned no matter what he tried to do remedy it.
-> He opened his mouth, a soft gurgling noise escaping him. Some sort of.... Black mass was shoved deep within his throat, sticking to the skin inside. He couldn't get it out, no one could get it out. Only Triple 6 could.
She grimaced a bit at the sight. That… did not look good in the slightest! Fuck, if she’d brought her first aid kit, she could’ve at least tried something to help extract it…
“I… I’m so sorry, John, if I’d done something earlier, maybe we’d all be fine. I always told you to be careful with that damn thing…”
She said bitterly, although there was no bite to her words, only memories of a better time.
-> John pulled his hand away and held it out in front of Jane, dirty and broken nails now even more visible in the moonlight. His hands looked roughed up and torn, small patches of skin missing and scarring over as it TRIED to heal itself.
-> He wanted his sister to badly. To hold her, to be held by her. He couldn't tho, he couldn't have that. He knew he'd hurt her, he knew she couldn't stay.
-> Another choked noise escaped him, choked and gurgled. He couldn't speak even tho he wanted to.
She took her hand off of his shoulder and brought both hands up to hold his, tears beginning to escape her eyes once she saw the state of his tattered hand. He looked as if he was in so much pain- which he most definitely was.
“…I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. But… but I promise I’ll find a way. One day you won’t have to suffer like this anymore. We’ll get you back to normal. We-we’ll do it, somehow. You… you won’t have to live like this anymore.”
-> A wheeze of air escaped him as he weakly gripped his sister's hand. He felt so cold, she felt so warm. He missed feeling warm. He missed feeling safe.
"J...."
-> He choked, a small spit of blood coming out from his mouth as his knees buckled slightly. Fuck, why did he try to talk?
“John- no- don’t talk. Just… rest your voice. I don’t know what you have in your throat yet… please don’t aggravate it any further.”
She supported him upright, pulling her sleeves over her hands for warmth and resting her hands back on John’s. His hands were freezing, but she did the best she could to warm him up a bit.
-> John nodded slowly and leaned a little of his weight onto his little sister. He didn't want to crush her, he didn't want to hurt her, but everything felt too much right now and everything was super fucking painful right now.
She knew that, but that wasn’t what she cared about right now. She didn’t know the next time she’d see him after she left him alone.
She missed her big brother so much. It didn’t matter to her if she couldn’t embrace him properly anymore. All she knew was that for now, in the short time they had together, they had one another again.
-> John opened his mouth, wanting to speak once again, but he listened to his sister and decided against it. It would hurt, he knew that, but he so desperately wanted to tell his sister that he loved her.
-> That he loved her. That he missed her so much. Jane... His sweet little Jane. Pretty little Jane with the hair he learned how to help her with when they were younger.
“…One day, you won’t have to suffer anymore, I promise. We’ll get you out of here.”
She swallowed, a fresh set of tears springing to her eyes as she lowered her head. She forcefully blinked them back, shaking her head, before looking up to face him again.
“I’m sorry, John… I love you. To me, you were and still are the best brother ever… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that enough times, back when everything was still okay.”
“But everything’s going to be okay, yeah?… Soon enough it’ll be just like how it always was. Just you and I, against the world- like back when we were kids. I won’t let it be any other way.”
-> John nodded slowly and hesitantly wrapped his normal arm around Jane and pulled her close. He was conscious enough to understand what's happening, at least this current moment.
-> At least he had Jane for now. Even if this moment was going to come to a close eventually.
Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
-> Gentle scraping.
-> Rustling of leaves.
-> Rocks rumbling from being pushed out of their place.
-> There he was, still present in the last outfit he wore... That slightly darken button up shirt, not ripped and blood stained in places. His familiar blue tie, dangling slightly from being loosen and ripped in half. Dark pants and old shoes that Jane had told him to replace multiple times, although he never listened.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him. That was… John Doe, was it? She recognised that outfit of his all too well.
She’d seen him a good amount of times- But seeing that mangled arm of his up close was horrifying. It was unsalvageable, to say the very least, but it also looked painful.
In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died. That was her brother, and she finally had a moment with him alone, after so long. She turned to face John Doe lurking in the shadows, fists clenched.
-> Nothing came from him. No voice, no sounds, no nothing. All that was there was that dull smile, those lifeless eyes that almost gleamed in the moonlight.
-> It was John, but it also wasn't him. He was an shell. A corrupted shell within something locked away inside, buried down and contained within the darkest parts of his mind, as if trying salvage whatever was left of him.
-> A glimmering came from his head as he moved forward, some strange crown sitting atop his once perfectly neat and well-kept hair. It was a crown... Golden, dulled and banged up a little, strange little black... Veins? It was hard to tell, wrapped around the edges of the crown and were painfully stuck within the man's forehead, little lines of dried blood could be seen.
-> Despite his silence, he was in agony.
Her face grew increasingly worried as the two of them approached each other. She tensed up as she walked closer to him, bracing for impact. She’d had the displeasure of seeing John lose his mind- the moment where everything had mainly gone to shit, and she knew what he was capable of.
All she could do now was hope for the unlikely best, which each step she took towards him. How gullible of her.
-> John stilled, allowing Jane to approach him at her own pace. So many things were screaming at John to kill this "survivor", to kill his own fucking sister. But he couldn't. Oh how could a big brother EVER consider hurting his little sister? A sin, that's what it was. A sin to even consider killing a loved one.
-> His massive arm twitched as if ITCHING to attack, to clobber the poor girl who stood in front of him. But he didn't dare to move an inch, keeping himself as still and stiff as a board.
-> He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't hurt her. No matter what the voices were telling him.
She took a step, and then another, until she stood right in front of John. If it wasn’t extremely obvious by now, that was definitely… John Doe, or to put it more fit, his body. What had remained of his face was twisted into two blank eyes and a crude, upturned smile.
It hurt, seeing her brother so… lifeless, when before he had been anything but. But it hurt more to know she had done this to him. How she had sucked the soul out of her older brother- the most high-spirited person she’d known, and turned him into a husk for her bidding.
"....."
-> He stared and breathed heavily. He wanted to speak, to say so many things. But he couldn't. He couldn't fucking talk, his body twitching slightly in frustration.
-> She wouldn't let him talk. Xploit wouldn't let him talk. He wanted nothing more than to say something, anything to reassure his sister that... Well- He honestly didn't know.
She lifted a hand, tentatively placing it on the part of John’s shoulder that… didn’t have that crackly, red code scribbled over his body. If this was some sort of dream her head was making up as a last result, she never wanted it to end. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked him over.
God, did he look a mess. She wanted to say something, anything to just… reassure him, something that John would always do whenever he caught Jane feeling down in the dumps.
“I… I should’ve done something… John…”
But what was there to say? She couldn’t do anything, not with Triple Six and the thing he’d created being in constant control of him.
-> John twitched a little, his massive arm lifting up ever so slightly before falling back to the ground with a gentle thumb, the floor shaking slightly as he did so. It hurt, god it fucking HURT to move that arm.
-> With whatever effort he could muster, he lifted up his normal hand, fingers twitching and shaking slightly. He wanted to touch his sister. He wanted to cup her cheek and feel her warm skin under his fingers. He missed Jane, he missed her so fucking much.
-> He wanted nothing more than to hug her again. His beloved baby sister.
“It… John, it hasn’t been the same since… since your experiment- Xploit went rogue. It’s been too long…”
Well, that was a start. She swallowed, trying to keep herself in check so her voice didn’t fail on her this early on in the little conversation they were currently having.
-> John choked a little and weakly gripped his own throat, dirty nails digging into his skin. He couldn't speak, his throat burned no matter what he tried to do remedy it.
-> He opened his mouth, a soft gurgling noise escaping him. Some sort of.... Black mass was shoved deep within his throat, sticking to the skin inside. He couldn't get it out, no one could get it out. Only Triple 6 could.
She grimaced a bit at the sight. That… did not look good in the slightest! Fuck, if she’d brought her first aid kit, she could’ve at least tried something to help extract it…
“I… I’m so sorry, John, if I’d done something earlier, maybe we’d all be fine. I always told you to be careful with that damn thing…”
She said bitterly, although there was no bite to her words, only memories of a better time.
-> John pulled his hand away and held it out in front of Jane, dirty and broken nails now even more visible in the moonlight. His hands looked roughed up and torn, small patches of skin missing and scarring over as it TRIED to heal itself.
-> He wanted his sister to badly. To hold her, to be held by her. He couldn't tho, he couldn't have that. He knew he'd hurt her, he knew she couldn't stay.
-> Another choked noise escaped him, choked and gurgled. He couldn't speak even tho he wanted to.
She took her hand off of his shoulder and brought both hands up to hold his, tears beginning to escape her eyes once she saw the state of his tattered hand. He looked as if he was in so much pain- which he most definitely was.
“…I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. But… but I promise I’ll find a way. One day you won’t have to suffer like this anymore. We’ll get you back to normal. We-we’ll do it, somehow. You… you won’t have to live like this anymore.”
-> A wheeze of air escaped him as he weakly gripped his sister's hand. He felt so cold, she felt so warm. He missed feeling warm. He missed feeling safe.
"J...."
-> He choked, a small spit of blood coming out from his mouth as his knees buckled slightly. Fuck, why did he try to talk?
“John- no- don’t talk. Just… rest your voice. I don’t know what you have in your throat yet… please don’t aggravate it any further.”
She supported him upright, pulling her sleeves over her hands for warmth and resting her hands back on John’s. His hands were freezing, but she did the best she could to warm him up a bit.
-> John nodded slowly and leaned a little of his weight onto his little sister. He didn't want to crush her, he didn't want to hurt her, but everything felt too much right now and everything was super fucking painful right now.
She knew that, but that wasn’t what she cared about right now. She didn’t know the next time she’d see him after she left him alone.
She missed her big brother so much. It didn’t matter to her if she couldn’t embrace him properly anymore. All she knew was that for now, in the short time they had together, they had one another again.
-> John opened his mouth, wanting to speak once again, but he listened to his sister and decided against it. It would hurt, he knew that, but he so desperately wanted to tell his sister that he loved her.
-> That he loved her. That he missed her so much. Jane... His sweet little Jane. Pretty little Jane with the hair he learned how to help her with when they were younger.
“…One day, you won’t have to suffer anymore, I promise. We’ll get you out of here.”
She swallowed, a fresh set of tears springing to her eyes as she lowered her head. She forcefully blinked them back, shaking her head, before looking up to face him again.
“I’m sorry, John… I love you. To me, you were and still are the best brother ever… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that enough times, back when everything was still okay.”
“But everything’s going to be okay, yeah?… Soon enough it’ll be just like how it always was. Just you and I, against the world- like back when we were kids. I won’t let it be any other way.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
-> Gentle scraping.
-> Rustling of leaves.
-> Rocks rumbling from being pushed out of their place.
-> There he was, still present in the last outfit he wore... That slightly darken button up shirt, not ripped and blood stained in places. His familiar blue tie, dangling slightly from being loosen and ripped in half. Dark pants and old shoes that Jane had told him to replace multiple times, although he never listened.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him. That was… John Doe, was it? She recognised that outfit of his all too well.
She’d seen him a good amount of times- But seeing that mangled arm of his up close was horrifying. It was unsalvageable, to say the very least, but it also looked painful.
In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died. That was her brother, and she finally had a moment with him alone, after so long. She turned to face John Doe lurking in the shadows, fists clenched.
-> Nothing came from him. No voice, no sounds, no nothing. All that was there was that dull smile, those lifeless eyes that almost gleamed in the moonlight.
-> It was John, but it also wasn't him. He was an shell. A corrupted shell within something locked away inside, buried down and contained within the darkest parts of his mind, as if trying salvage whatever was left of him.
-> A glimmering came from his head as he moved forward, some strange crown sitting atop his once perfectly neat and well-kept hair. It was a crown... Golden, dulled and banged up a little, strange little black... Veins? It was hard to tell, wrapped around the edges of the crown and were painfully stuck within the man's forehead, little lines of dried blood could be seen.
-> Despite his silence, he was in agony.
Her face grew increasingly worried as the two of them approached each other. She tensed up as she walked closer to him, bracing for impact. She’d had the displeasure of seeing John lose his mind- the moment where everything had mainly gone to shit, and she knew what he was capable of.
All she could do now was hope for the unlikely best, which each step she took towards him. How gullible of her.
-> John stilled, allowing Jane to approach him at her own pace. So many things were screaming at John to kill this "survivor", to kill his own fucking sister. But he couldn't. Oh how could a big brother EVER consider hurting his little sister? A sin, that's what it was. A sin to even consider killing a loved one.
-> His massive arm twitched as if ITCHING to attack, to clobber the poor girl who stood in front of him. But he didn't dare to move an inch, keeping himself as still and stiff as a board.
-> He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't hurt her. No matter what the voices were telling him.
She took a step, and then another, until she stood right in front of John. If it wasn’t extremely obvious by now, that was definitely… John Doe, or to put it more fit, his body. What had remained of his face was twisted into two blank eyes and a crude, upturned smile.
It hurt, seeing her brother so… lifeless, when before he had been anything but. But it hurt more to know she had done this to him. How she had sucked the soul out of her older brother- the most high-spirited person she’d known, and turned him into a husk for her bidding.
"....."
-> He stared and breathed heavily. He wanted to speak, to say so many things. But he couldn't. He couldn't fucking talk, his body twitching slightly in frustration.
-> She wouldn't let him talk. Xploit wouldn't let him talk. He wanted nothing more than to say something, anything to reassure his sister that... Well- He honestly didn't know.
She lifted a hand, tentatively placing it on the part of John’s shoulder that… didn’t have that crackly, red code scribbled over his body. If this was some sort of dream her head was making up as a last result, she never wanted it to end. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked him over.
God, did he look a mess. She wanted to say something, anything to just… reassure him, something that John would always do whenever he caught Jane feeling down in the dumps.
“I… I should’ve done something… John…”
But what was there to say? She couldn’t do anything, not with Triple Six and the thing he’d created being in constant control of him.
-> John twitched a little, his massive arm lifting up ever so slightly before falling back to the ground with a gentle thumb, the floor shaking slightly as he did so. It hurt, god it fucking HURT to move that arm.
-> With whatever effort he could muster, he lifted up his normal hand, fingers twitching and shaking slightly. He wanted to touch his sister. He wanted to cup her cheek and feel her warm skin under his fingers. He missed Jane, he missed her so fucking much.
-> He wanted nothing more than to hug her again. His beloved baby sister.
“It… John, it hasn’t been the same since… since your experiment- Xploit went rogue. It’s been too long…”
Well, that was a start. She swallowed, trying to keep herself in check so her voice didn’t fail on her this early on in the little conversation they were currently having.
-> John choked a little and weakly gripped his own throat, dirty nails digging into his skin. He couldn't speak, his throat burned no matter what he tried to do remedy it.
-> He opened his mouth, a soft gurgling noise escaping him. Some sort of.... Black mass was shoved deep within his throat, sticking to the skin inside. He couldn't get it out, no one could get it out. Only Triple 6 could.
She grimaced a bit at the sight. That… did not look good in the slightest! Fuck, if she’d brought her first aid kit, she could’ve at least tried something to help extract it…
“I… I’m so sorry, John, if I’d done something earlier, maybe we’d all be fine. I always told you to be careful with that damn thing…”
She said bitterly, although there was no bite to her words, only memories of a better time.
-> John pulled his hand away and held it out in front of Jane, dirty and broken nails now even more visible in the moonlight. His hands looked roughed up and torn, small patches of skin missing and scarring over as it TRIED to heal itself.
-> He wanted his sister to badly. To hold her, to be held by her. He couldn't tho, he couldn't have that. He knew he'd hurt her, he knew she couldn't stay.
-> Another choked noise escaped him, choked and gurgled. He couldn't speak even tho he wanted to.
She took her hand off of his shoulder and brought both hands up to hold his, tears beginning to escape her eyes once she saw the state of his tattered hand. He looked as if he was in so much pain- which he most definitely was.
“…I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. But… but I promise I’ll find a way. One day you won’t have to suffer like this anymore. We’ll get you back to normal. We-we’ll do it, somehow. You… you won’t have to live like this anymore.”
-> A wheeze of air escaped him as he weakly gripped his sister's hand. He felt so cold, she felt so warm. He missed feeling warm. He missed feeling safe.
"J...."
-> He choked, a small spit of blood coming out from his mouth as his knees buckled slightly. Fuck, why did he try to talk?
“John- no- don’t talk. Just… rest your voice. I don’t know what you have in your throat yet… please don’t aggravate it any further.”
She supported him upright, pulling her sleeves over her hands for warmth and resting her hands back on John’s. His hands were freezing, but she did the best she could to warm him up a bit.
-> John nodded slowly and leaned a little of his weight onto his little sister. He didn't want to crush her, he didn't want to hurt her, but everything felt too much right now and everything was super fucking painful right now.
She knew that, but that wasn’t what she cared about right now. She didn’t know the next time she’d see him after she left him alone.
She missed her big brother so much. It didn’t matter to her if she couldn’t embrace him properly anymore. All she knew was that for now, in the short time they had together, they had one another again.
Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
-> Gentle scraping.
-> Rustling of leaves.
-> Rocks rumbling from being pushed out of their place.
-> There he was, still present in the last outfit he wore... That slightly darken button up shirt, not ripped and blood stained in places. His familiar blue tie, dangling slightly from being loosen and ripped in half. Dark pants and old shoes that Jane had told him to replace multiple times, although he never listened.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him. That was… John Doe, was it? She recognised that outfit of his all too well.
She’d seen him a good amount of times- But seeing that mangled arm of his up close was horrifying. It was unsalvageable, to say the very least, but it also looked painful.
In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died. That was her brother, and she finally had a moment with him alone, after so long. She turned to face John Doe lurking in the shadows, fists clenched.
-> Nothing came from him. No voice, no sounds, no nothing. All that was there was that dull smile, those lifeless eyes that almost gleamed in the moonlight.
-> It was John, but it also wasn't him. He was an shell. A corrupted shell within something locked away inside, buried down and contained within the darkest parts of his mind, as if trying salvage whatever was left of him.
-> A glimmering came from his head as he moved forward, some strange crown sitting atop his once perfectly neat and well-kept hair. It was a crown... Golden, dulled and banged up a little, strange little black... Veins? It was hard to tell, wrapped around the edges of the crown and were painfully stuck within the man's forehead, little lines of dried blood could be seen.
-> Despite his silence, he was in agony.
Her face grew increasingly worried as the two of them approached each other. She tensed up as she walked closer to him, bracing for impact. She’d had the displeasure of seeing John lose his mind- the moment where everything had mainly gone to shit, and she knew what he was capable of.
All she could do now was hope for the unlikely best, which each step she took towards him. How gullible of her.
-> John stilled, allowing Jane to approach him at her own pace. So many things were screaming at John to kill this "survivor", to kill his own fucking sister. But he couldn't. Oh how could a big brother EVER consider hurting his little sister? A sin, that's what it was. A sin to even consider killing a loved one.
-> His massive arm twitched as if ITCHING to attack, to clobber the poor girl who stood in front of him. But he didn't dare to move an inch, keeping himself as still and stiff as a board.
-> He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't hurt her. No matter what the voices were telling him.
She took a step, and then another, until she stood right in front of John. If it wasn’t extremely obvious by now, that was definitely… John Doe, or to put it more fit, his body. What had remained of his face was twisted into two blank eyes and a crude, upturned smile.
It hurt, seeing her brother so… lifeless, when before he had been anything but. But it hurt more to know she had done this to him. How she had sucked the soul out of her older brother- the most high-spirited person she’d known, and turned him into a husk for her bidding.
"....."
-> He stared and breathed heavily. He wanted to speak, to say so many things. But he couldn't. He couldn't fucking talk, his body twitching slightly in frustration.
-> She wouldn't let him talk. Xploit wouldn't let him talk. He wanted nothing more than to say something, anything to reassure his sister that... Well- He honestly didn't know.
She lifted a hand, tentatively placing it on the part of John’s shoulder that… didn’t have that crackly, red code scribbled over his body. If this was some sort of dream her head was making up as a last result, she never wanted it to end. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked him over.
God, did he look a mess. She wanted to say something, anything to just… reassure him, something that John would always do whenever he caught Jane feeling down in the dumps.
“I… I should’ve done something… John…”
But what was there to say? She couldn’t do anything, not with Triple Six and the thing he’d created being in constant control of him.
-> John twitched a little, his massive arm lifting up ever so slightly before falling back to the ground with a gentle thumb, the floor shaking slightly as he did so. It hurt, god it fucking HURT to move that arm.
-> With whatever effort he could muster, he lifted up his normal hand, fingers twitching and shaking slightly. He wanted to touch his sister. He wanted to cup her cheek and feel her warm skin under his fingers. He missed Jane, he missed her so fucking much.
-> He wanted nothing more than to hug her again. His beloved baby sister.
“It… John, it hasn’t been the same since… since your experiment- Xploit went rogue. It’s been too long…”
Well, that was a start. She swallowed, trying to keep herself in check so her voice didn’t fail on her this early on in the little conversation they were currently having.
-> John choked a little and weakly gripped his own throat, dirty nails digging into his skin. He couldn't speak, his throat burned no matter what he tried to do remedy it.
-> He opened his mouth, a soft gurgling noise escaping him. Some sort of.... Black mass was shoved deep within his throat, sticking to the skin inside. He couldn't get it out, no one could get it out. Only Triple 6 could.
She grimaced a bit at the sight. That… did not look good in the slightest! Fuck, if she’d brought her first aid kit, she could’ve at least tried something to help extract it…
“I… I’m so sorry, John, if I’d done something earlier, maybe we’d all be fine. I always told you to be careful with that damn thing…”
She said bitterly, although there was no bite to her words, only memories of a better time.
-> John pulled his hand away and held it out in front of Jane, dirty and broken nails now even more visible in the moonlight. His hands looked roughed up and torn, small patches of skin missing and scarring over as it TRIED to heal itself.
-> He wanted his sister to badly. To hold her, to be held by her. He couldn't tho, he couldn't have that. He knew he'd hurt her, he knew she couldn't stay.
-> Another choked noise escaped him, choked and gurgled. He couldn't speak even tho he wanted to.
She took her hand off of his shoulder and brought both hands up to hold his, tears beginning to escape her eyes once she saw the state of his tattered hand. He looked as if he was in so much pain- which he most definitely was.
“…I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. But… but I promise I’ll find a way. One day you won’t have to suffer like this anymore. We’ll get you back to normal. We-we’ll do it, somehow. You… you won’t have to live like this anymore.”
-> A wheeze of air escaped him as he weakly gripped his sister's hand. He felt so cold, she felt so warm. He missed feeling warm. He missed feeling safe.
"J...."
-> He choked, a small spit of blood coming out from his mouth as his knees buckled slightly. Fuck, why did he try to talk?
“John- no- don’t talk. Just… rest your voice. I don’t know what you have in your throat yet… please don’t aggravate it any further.”
She supported him upright, pulling her sleeves over her hands for warmth and resting her hands back on John’s. His hands were freezing, but she did the best she could to warm him up a bit.
Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
-> Gentle scraping.
-> Rustling of leaves.
-> Rocks rumbling from being pushed out of their place.
-> There he was, still present in the last outfit he wore... That slightly darken button up shirt, not ripped and blood stained in places. His familiar blue tie, dangling slightly from being loosen and ripped in half. Dark pants and old shoes that Jane had told him to replace multiple times, although he never listened.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him. That was… John Doe, was it? She recognised that outfit of his all too well.
She’d seen him a good amount of times- But seeing that mangled arm of his up close was horrifying. It was unsalvageable, to say the very least, but it also looked painful.
In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died. That was her brother, and she finally had a moment with him alone, after so long. She turned to face John Doe lurking in the shadows, fists clenched.
-> Nothing came from him. No voice, no sounds, no nothing. All that was there was that dull smile, those lifeless eyes that almost gleamed in the moonlight.
-> It was John, but it also wasn't him. He was an shell. A corrupted shell within something locked away inside, buried down and contained within the darkest parts of his mind, as if trying salvage whatever was left of him.
-> A glimmering came from his head as he moved forward, some strange crown sitting atop his once perfectly neat and well-kept hair. It was a crown... Golden, dulled and banged up a little, strange little black... Veins? It was hard to tell, wrapped around the edges of the crown and were painfully stuck within the man's forehead, little lines of dried blood could be seen.
-> Despite his silence, he was in agony.
Her face grew increasingly worried as the two of them approached each other. She tensed up as she walked closer to him, bracing for impact. She’d had the displeasure of seeing John lose his mind- the moment where everything had mainly gone to shit, and she knew what he was capable of.
All she could do now was hope for the unlikely best, which each step she took towards him. How gullible of her.
-> John stilled, allowing Jane to approach him at her own pace. So many things were screaming at John to kill this "survivor", to kill his own fucking sister. But he couldn't. Oh how could a big brother EVER consider hurting his little sister? A sin, that's what it was. A sin to even consider killing a loved one.
-> His massive arm twitched as if ITCHING to attack, to clobber the poor girl who stood in front of him. But he didn't dare to move an inch, keeping himself as still and stiff as a board.
-> He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't hurt her. No matter what the voices were telling him.
She took a step, and then another, until she stood right in front of John. If it wasn’t extremely obvious by now, that was definitely… John Doe, or to put it more fit, his body. What had remained of his face was twisted into two blank eyes and a crude, upturned smile.
It hurt, seeing her brother so… lifeless, when before he had been anything but. But it hurt more to know she had done this to him. How she had sucked the soul out of her older brother- the most high-spirited person she’d known, and turned him into a husk for her bidding.
"....."
-> He stared and breathed heavily. He wanted to speak, to say so many things. But he couldn't. He couldn't fucking talk, his body twitching slightly in frustration.
-> She wouldn't let him talk. Xploit wouldn't let him talk. He wanted nothing more than to say something, anything to reassure his sister that... Well- He honestly didn't know.
She lifted a hand, tentatively placing it on the part of John’s shoulder that… didn’t have that crackly, red code scribbled over his body. If this was some sort of dream her head was making up as a last result, she never wanted it to end. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked him over.
God, did he look a mess. She wanted to say something, anything to just… reassure him, something that John would always do whenever he caught Jane feeling down in the dumps.
“I… I should’ve done something… John…”
But what was there to say? She couldn’t do anything, not with Triple Six and the thing he’d created being in constant control of him.
-> John twitched a little, his massive arm lifting up ever so slightly before falling back to the ground with a gentle thumb, the floor shaking slightly as he did so. It hurt, god it fucking HURT to move that arm.
-> With whatever effort he could muster, he lifted up his normal hand, fingers twitching and shaking slightly. He wanted to touch his sister. He wanted to cup her cheek and feel her warm skin under his fingers. He missed Jane, he missed her so fucking much.
-> He wanted nothing more than to hug her again. His beloved baby sister.
“It… John, it hasn’t been the same since… since your experiment- Xploit went rogue. It’s been too long…”
Well, that was a start. She swallowed, trying to keep herself in check so her voice didn’t fail on her this early on in the little conversation they were currently having.
-> John choked a little and weakly gripped his own throat, dirty nails digging into his skin. He couldn't speak, his throat burned no matter what he tried to do remedy it.
-> He opened his mouth, a soft gurgling noise escaping him. Some sort of.... Black mass was shoved deep within his throat, sticking to the skin inside. He couldn't get it out, no one could get it out. Only Triple 6 could.
She grimaced a bit at the sight. That… did not look good in the slightest! Fuck, if she’d brought her first aid kit, she could’ve at least tried something to help extract it…
“I… I’m so sorry, John, if I’d done something earlier, maybe we’d all be fine. I always told you to be careful with that damn thing…”
She said bitterly, although there was no bite to her words, only memories of a better time.
-> John pulled his hand away and held it out in front of Jane, dirty and broken nails now even more visible in the moonlight. His hands looked roughed up and torn, small patches of skin missing and scarring over as it TRIED to heal itself.
-> He wanted his sister to badly. To hold her, to be held by her. He couldn't tho, he couldn't have that. He knew he'd hurt her, he knew she couldn't stay.
-> Another choked noise escaped him, choked and gurgled. He couldn't speak even tho he wanted to.
She took her hand off of his shoulder and brought both hands up to hold his, tears beginning to escape her eyes once she saw the state of his tattered hand. He looked as if he was in so much pain- which he most definitely was.
“…I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. But… but I promise I’ll find a way. One day you won’t have to suffer like this anymore. We’ll get you back to normal. We-we’ll do it, somehow. You… you won’t have to live like this anymore.”
Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
-> Gentle scraping.
-> Rustling of leaves.
-> Rocks rumbling from being pushed out of their place.
-> There he was, still present in the last outfit he wore... That slightly darken button up shirt, not ripped and blood stained in places. His familiar blue tie, dangling slightly from being loosen and ripped in half. Dark pants and old shoes that Jane had told him to replace multiple times, although he never listened.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him. That was… John Doe, was it? She recognised that outfit of his all too well.
She’d seen him a good amount of times- But seeing that mangled arm of his up close was horrifying. It was unsalvageable, to say the very least, but it also looked painful.
In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died. That was her brother, and she finally had a moment with him alone, after so long. She turned to face John Doe lurking in the shadows, fists clenched.
-> Nothing came from him. No voice, no sounds, no nothing. All that was there was that dull smile, those lifeless eyes that almost gleamed in the moonlight.
-> It was John, but it also wasn't him. He was an shell. A corrupted shell within something locked away inside, buried down and contained within the darkest parts of his mind, as if trying salvage whatever was left of him.
-> A glimmering came from his head as he moved forward, some strange crown sitting atop his once perfectly neat and well-kept hair. It was a crown... Golden, dulled and banged up a little, strange little black... Veins? It was hard to tell, wrapped around the edges of the crown and were painfully stuck within the man's forehead, little lines of dried blood could be seen.
-> Despite his silence, he was in agony.
Her face grew increasingly worried as the two of them approached each other. She tensed up as she walked closer to him, bracing for impact. She’d had the displeasure of seeing John lose his mind- the moment where everything had mainly gone to shit, and she knew what he was capable of.
All she could do now was hope for the unlikely best, which each step she took towards him. How gullible of her.
-> John stilled, allowing Jane to approach him at her own pace. So many things were screaming at John to kill this "survivor", to kill his own fucking sister. But he couldn't. Oh how could a big brother EVER consider hurting his little sister? A sin, that's what it was. A sin to even consider killing a loved one.
-> His massive arm twitched as if ITCHING to attack, to clobber the poor girl who stood in front of him. But he didn't dare to move an inch, keeping himself as still and stiff as a board.
-> He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't hurt her. No matter what the voices were telling him.
She took a step, and then another, until she stood right in front of John. If it wasn’t extremely obvious by now, that was definitely… John Doe, or to put it more fit, his body. What had remained of his face was twisted into two blank eyes and a crude, upturned smile.
It hurt, seeing her brother so… lifeless, when before he had been anything but. But it hurt more to know she had done this to him. How she had sucked the soul out of her older brother- the most high-spirited person she’d known, and turned him into a husk for her bidding.
"....."
-> He stared and breathed heavily. He wanted to speak, to say so many things. But he couldn't. He couldn't fucking talk, his body twitching slightly in frustration.
-> She wouldn't let him talk. Xploit wouldn't let him talk. He wanted nothing more than to say something, anything to reassure his sister that... Well- He honestly didn't know.
She lifted a hand, tentatively placing it on the part of John’s shoulder that… didn’t have that crackly, red code scribbled over his body. If this was some sort of dream her head was making up as a last result, she never wanted it to end. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked him over.
God, did he look a mess. She wanted to say something, anything to just… reassure him, something that John would always do whenever he caught Jane feeling down in the dumps.
“I… I should’ve done something… John…”
But what was there to say? She couldn’t do anything, not with Triple Six and the thing he’d created being in constant control of him.
-> John twitched a little, his massive arm lifting up ever so slightly before falling back to the ground with a gentle thumb, the floor shaking slightly as he did so. It hurt, god it fucking HURT to move that arm.
-> With whatever effort he could muster, he lifted up his normal hand, fingers twitching and shaking slightly. He wanted to touch his sister. He wanted to cup her cheek and feel her warm skin under his fingers. He missed Jane, he missed her so fucking much.
-> He wanted nothing more than to hug her again. His beloved baby sister.
“It… John, it hasn’t been the same since… since your experiment- Xploit went rogue. It’s been too long…”
Well, that was a start. She swallowed, trying to keep herself in check so her voice didn’t fail on her this early on in the little conversation they were currently having.
-> John choked a little and weakly gripped his own throat, dirty nails digging into his skin. He couldn't speak, his throat burned no matter what he tried to do remedy it.
-> He opened his mouth, a soft gurgling noise escaping him. Some sort of.... Black mass was shoved deep within his throat, sticking to the skin inside. He couldn't get it out, no one could get it out. Only Triple 6 could.
She grimaced a bit at the sight. That… did not look good in the slightest! Fuck, if she’d brought her first aid kit, she could’ve at least tried something to help extract it…
“I… I’m so sorry, John, if I’d done something earlier, maybe we’d all be fine. I always told you to be careful with that damn thing…”
She said bitterly, although there was no bite to her words, only memories of a better time.
Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
-> Gentle scraping.
-> Rustling of leaves.
-> Rocks rumbling from being pushed out of their place.
-> There he was, still present in the last outfit he wore... That slightly darken button up shirt, not ripped and blood stained in places. His familiar blue tie, dangling slightly from being loosen and ripped in half. Dark pants and old shoes that Jane had told him to replace multiple times, although he never listened.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him. That was… John Doe, was it? She recognised that outfit of his all too well.
She’d seen him a good amount of times- But seeing that mangled arm of his up close was horrifying. It was unsalvageable, to say the very least, but it also looked painful.
In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died. That was her brother, and she finally had a moment with him alone, after so long. She turned to face John Doe lurking in the shadows, fists clenched.
-> Nothing came from him. No voice, no sounds, no nothing. All that was there was that dull smile, those lifeless eyes that almost gleamed in the moonlight.
-> It was John, but it also wasn't him. He was an shell. A corrupted shell within something locked away inside, buried down and contained within the darkest parts of his mind, as if trying salvage whatever was left of him.
-> A glimmering came from his head as he moved forward, some strange crown sitting atop his once perfectly neat and well-kept hair. It was a crown... Golden, dulled and banged up a little, strange little black... Veins? It was hard to tell, wrapped around the edges of the crown and were painfully stuck within the man's forehead, little lines of dried blood could be seen.
-> Despite his silence, he was in agony.
Her face grew increasingly worried as the two of them approached each other. She tensed up as she walked closer to him, bracing for impact. She’d had the displeasure of seeing John lose his mind- the moment where everything had mainly gone to shit, and she knew what he was capable of.
All she could do now was hope for the unlikely best, which each step she took towards him. How gullible of her.
-> John stilled, allowing Jane to approach him at her own pace. So many things were screaming at John to kill this "survivor", to kill his own fucking sister. But he couldn't. Oh how could a big brother EVER consider hurting his little sister? A sin, that's what it was. A sin to even consider killing a loved one.
-> His massive arm twitched as if ITCHING to attack, to clobber the poor girl who stood in front of him. But he didn't dare to move an inch, keeping himself as still and stiff as a board.
-> He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't hurt her. No matter what the voices were telling him.
She took a step, and then another, until she stood right in front of John. If it wasn’t extremely obvious by now, that was definitely… John Doe, or to put it more fit, his body. What had remained of his face was twisted into two blank eyes and a crude, upturned smile.
It hurt, seeing her brother so… lifeless, when before he had been anything but. But it hurt more to know she had done this to him. How she had sucked the soul out of her older brother- the most high-spirited person she’d known, and turned him into a husk for her bidding.
"....."
-> He stared and breathed heavily. He wanted to speak, to say so many things. But he couldn't. He couldn't fucking talk, his body twitching slightly in frustration.
-> She wouldn't let him talk. Xploit wouldn't let him talk. He wanted nothing more than to say something, anything to reassure his sister that... Well- He honestly didn't know.
She lifted a hand, tentatively placing it on the part of John’s shoulder that… didn’t have that crackly, red code scribbled over his body. If this was some sort of dream her head was making up as a last result, she never wanted it to end. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked him over.
God, did he look a mess. She wanted to say something, anything to just… reassure him, something that John would always do whenever he caught Jane feeling down in the dumps.
“I… I should’ve done something… John…”
But what was there to say? She couldn’t do anything, not with Triple Six and the thing he’d created being in constant control of him.
-> John twitched a little, his massive arm lifting up ever so slightly before falling back to the ground with a gentle thumb, the floor shaking slightly as he did so. It hurt, god it fucking HURT to move that arm.
-> With whatever effort he could muster, he lifted up his normal hand, fingers twitching and shaking slightly. He wanted to touch his sister. He wanted to cup her cheek and feel her warm skin under his fingers. He missed Jane, he missed her so fucking much.
-> He wanted nothing more than to hug her again. His beloved baby sister.
“It… John, it hasn’t been the same since… since your experiment- Xploit went rogue. It’s been too long…”
Well, that was a start. She swallowed, trying to keep herself in check so her voice didn’t fail on her this early on in the little conversation they were currently having.
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Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
-> Gentle scraping.
-> Rustling of leaves.
-> Rocks rumbling from being pushed out of their place.
-> There he was, still present in the last outfit he wore... That slightly darken button up shirt, not ripped and blood stained in places. His familiar blue tie, dangling slightly from being loosen and ripped in half. Dark pants and old shoes that Jane had told him to replace multiple times, although he never listened.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him. That was… John Doe, was it? She recognised that outfit of his all too well.
She’d seen him a good amount of times- But seeing that mangled arm of his up close was horrifying. It was unsalvageable, to say the very least, but it also looked painful.
In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died. That was her brother, and she finally had a moment with him alone, after so long. She turned to face John Doe lurking in the shadows, fists clenched.
-> Nothing came from him. No voice, no sounds, no nothing. All that was there was that dull smile, those lifeless eyes that almost gleamed in the moonlight.
-> It was John, but it also wasn't him. He was an shell. A corrupted shell within something locked away inside, buried down and contained within the darkest parts of his mind, as if trying salvage whatever was left of him.
-> A glimmering came from his head as he moved forward, some strange crown sitting atop his once perfectly neat and well-kept hair. It was a crown... Golden, dulled and banged up a little, strange little black... Veins? It was hard to tell, wrapped around the edges of the crown and were painfully stuck within the man's forehead, little lines of dried blood could be seen.
-> Despite his silence, he was in agony.
Her face grew increasingly worried as the two of them approached each other. She tensed up as she walked closer to him, bracing for impact. She’d had the displeasure of seeing John lose his mind- the moment where everything had mainly gone to shit, and she knew what he was capable of.
All she could do now was hope for the unlikely best, which each step she took towards him. How gullible of her.
-> John stilled, allowing Jane to approach him at her own pace. So many things were screaming at John to kill this "survivor", to kill his own fucking sister. But he couldn't. Oh how could a big brother EVER consider hurting his little sister? A sin, that's what it was. A sin to even consider killing a loved one.
-> His massive arm twitched as if ITCHING to attack, to clobber the poor girl who stood in front of him. But he didn't dare to move an inch, keeping himself as still and stiff as a board.
-> He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't hurt her. No matter what the voices were telling him.
She took a step, and then another, until she stood right in front of John. If it wasn’t extremely obvious by now, that was definitely… John Doe, or to put it more fit, his body. What had remained of his face was twisted into two blank eyes and a crude, upturned smile.
It hurt, seeing her brother so… lifeless, when before he had been anything but. But it hurt more to know she had done this to him. How she had sucked the soul out of her older brother- the most high-spirited person she’d known, and turned him into a husk for her bidding.
"....."
-> He stared and breathed heavily. He wanted to speak, to say so many things. But he couldn't. He couldn't fucking talk, his body twitching slightly in frustration.
-> She wouldn't let him talk. Xploit wouldn't let him talk. He wanted nothing more than to say something, anything to reassure his sister that... Well- He honestly didn't know.
She lifted a hand, tentatively placing it on the part of John’s shoulder that… didn’t have that crackly, red code scribbled over his body. If this was some sort of dream her head was making up as a last result, she never wanted it to end. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked him over.
God, did he look a mess. She wanted to say something, anything to just… reassure him, something that John would always do whenever he caught Jane feeling down in the dumps.
“I… I should’ve done something… John…”
But what was there to say? She couldn’t do anything, not with Triple Six and the thing he’d created being in constant control of him.
Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
-> Gentle scraping.
-> Rustling of leaves.
-> Rocks rumbling from being pushed out of their place.
-> There he was, still present in the last outfit he wore... That slightly darken button up shirt, not ripped and blood stained in places. His familiar blue tie, dangling slightly from being loosen and ripped in half. Dark pants and old shoes that Jane had told him to replace multiple times, although he never listened.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him. That was… John Doe, was it? She recognised that outfit of his all too well.
She’d seen him a good amount of times- But seeing that mangled arm of his up close was horrifying. It was unsalvageable, to say the very least, but it also looked painful.
In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died. That was her brother, and she finally had a moment with him alone, after so long. She turned to face John Doe lurking in the shadows, fists clenched.
-> Nothing came from him. No voice, no sounds, no nothing. All that was there was that dull smile, those lifeless eyes that almost gleamed in the moonlight.
-> It was John, but it also wasn't him. He was an shell. A corrupted shell within something locked away inside, buried down and contained within the darkest parts of his mind, as if trying salvage whatever was left of him.
-> A glimmering came from his head as he moved forward, some strange crown sitting atop his once perfectly neat and well-kept hair. It was a crown... Golden, dulled and banged up a little, strange little black... Veins? It was hard to tell, wrapped around the edges of the crown and were painfully stuck within the man's forehead, little lines of dried blood could be seen.
-> Despite his silence, he was in agony.
Her face grew increasingly worried as the two of them approached each other. She tensed up as she walked closer to him, bracing for impact. She’d had the displeasure of seeing John lose his mind- the moment where everything had mainly gone to shit, and she knew what he was capable of.
All she could do now was hope for the unlikely best, which each step she took towards him. How gullible of her.
-> John stilled, allowing Jane to approach him at her own pace. So many things were screaming at John to kill this "survivor", to kill his own fucking sister. But he couldn't. Oh how could a big brother EVER consider hurting his little sister? A sin, that's what it was. A sin to even consider killing a loved one.
-> His massive arm twitched as if ITCHING to attack, to clobber the poor girl who stood in front of him. But he didn't dare to move an inch, keeping himself as still and stiff as a board.
-> He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't hurt her. No matter what the voices were telling him.
She took a step, and then another, until she stood right in front of John. If it wasn’t extremely obvious by now, that was definitely… John Doe, or to put it more fit, his body. What had remained of his face was twisted into two blank eyes and a crude, upturned smile.
It hurt, seeing her brother so… lifeless, when before he had been anything but. But it hurt more to know she had done this to him. How she had sucked the soul out of her older brother- the most high-spirited person she’d known, and turned him into a husk for her bidding.
Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
-> Gentle scraping.
-> Rustling of leaves.
-> Rocks rumbling from being pushed out of their place.
-> There he was, still present in the last outfit he wore... That slightly darken button up shirt, not ripped and blood stained in places. His familiar blue tie, dangling slightly from being loosen and ripped in half. Dark pants and old shoes that Jane had told him to replace multiple times, although he never listened.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him. That was… John Doe, was it? She recognised that outfit of his all too well.
She’d seen him a good amount of times- But seeing that mangled arm of his up close was horrifying. It was unsalvageable, to say the very least, but it also looked painful.
In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died. That was her brother, and she finally had a moment with him alone, after so long. She turned to face John Doe lurking in the shadows, fists clenched.
-> Nothing came from him. No voice, no sounds, no nothing. All that was there was that dull smile, those lifeless eyes that almost gleamed in the moonlight.
-> It was John, but it also wasn't him. He was an shell. A corrupted shell within something locked away inside, buried down and contained within the darkest parts of his mind, as if trying salvage whatever was left of him.
-> A glimmering came from his head as he moved forward, some strange crown sitting atop his once perfectly neat and well-kept hair. It was a crown... Golden, dulled and banged up a little, strange little black... Veins? It was hard to tell, wrapped around the edges of the crown and were painfully stuck within the man's forehead, little lines of dried blood could be seen.
-> Despite his silence, he was in agony.
Her face grew increasingly worried as the two of them approached each other. She tensed up as she walked closer to him, bracing for impact. She’d had the displeasure of seeing John lose his mind- the moment where everything had mainly gone to shit, and she knew what he was capable of.
All she could do now was hope for the unlikely best, which each step she took towards him. How gullible of her.
Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
-> Gentle scraping.
-> Rustling of leaves.
-> Rocks rumbling from being pushed out of their place.
-> There he was, still present in the last outfit he wore... That slightly darken button up shirt, not ripped and blood stained in places. His familiar blue tie, dangling slightly from being loosen and ripped in half. Dark pants and old shoes that Jane had told him to replace multiple times, although he never listened.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him. That was… John Doe, was it? She recognised that outfit of his all too well.
She’d seen him a good amount of times- But seeing that mangled arm of his up close was horrifying. It was unsalvageable, to say the very least, but it also looked painful.
In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died. That was her brother, and she finally had a moment with him alone, after so long. She turned to face John Doe lurking in the shadows, fists clenched.
Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
-> John watched, silent as ever, red eyes peeking out through the darkness. Something deep within him wanted to run at his sister, to grab her and pull her into a hug.
-> But he couldn't. He couldn't without hurting her. So he decided to move within the shadows, trailing behind the survivor as his massive arm dragged against the ground.
A minute or so in, Jane Doe stopped in her tracks. She looked around cautiously, clearly having heard John’s arm scraping against the dirt pathway. Her medkit wasn’t present- she would only be going on a small stroll, and she didn’t want anything to happen to it in the scenario she was cornered and killed.
Unfortunately for her, that scenario was most definitely extremely possible at the moment.
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Footsteps. A series of them, each step growing louder with each step somebody took.
That had to be a person. It didn’t sound like an animal or one of the other killers, moreso a survivor in the mist…
-@fuchsiahealer
-> He knows who it is. It's so simple. Those footsteps were familiar to him. The sound, the lightness of each footfall despite them getting louder and closer.
-> The killer, the very survivor's older brother, was watching from afar. Oh that beautiful bright pink hair... He knows that's his sister.
That was his sister all right. Jane Doe appeared out of the shadows, one hand buried in her hoodie pocket. She strolled along the old, beaten down pathway, breathing out a sigh. She’d gone for a walk to clear her head since celebrations had gotten… slightly out of hand back at her party’s camp.
