YOUR FAULT YOUR FAULT YOUR FAULT

I walk with the noise It's reaching out of me I talk to the walls Face my devils When I'm losing my touch the terror, the terror I walk with the noise Face my devils 

     There’s the crunch of broken drywall and glass underneath his shoes, grinding against cement and kicking up dust as he shifted his position against the wall. There’s a wet sounding cough, wracking his form as he clears his throat, tries to force out the remaining blood that clung to his mouth. His mask is pushed up to rest against the top of his head, enough out of the way that he could breath a little clearer.

     Eventually he hacks up a thick glob of the copper tasting substance, tinged crimson and black, spitting it to the wayside from their position in the abandoned hall. He clears his throat once more, catching his breath for a moment, hand resting against his thigh from the slightly bent-over position of his body. Eventually he pulls the clear water bottle up to his lips, swishing around a mouthful of it to further remove the taste from his mouth. 

     As tempting as it was to simply take, take, take, he knew he had to be slick. He had to take his time to get what he wanted. He had to let go, if only for the moment.

     Evan couldn’t help but stare. Something about that stranger brought about a twinge of curiosity. The way he presented himself, maybe? Or the way he seemed to be so unsure of his surroundings? He couldn’t place it. But he knew there had to be a reason.

     He jumped at the sound of his voice, quickly looking down, to the side, anywhere but the stranger’s face. “Uh. Sorry. Not many people walk down this way anymore, it’s just a bit… surprising, I guess.”

     Tim takes a moment to take in the other man’s appearance (seemed physically fit, but the way he jumped and avoided eye contact seemed to contrast that). Eyes linger slowly, taking Evan in, before Tim returns the cigarette to his mouth and takes another long drag.

     He glances around their surroundings briefly, taking his gaze off of the other. In truth, he hadn’t really been watching where he was going. Just needed some fresh air, take his mind off of the buzzing static in his brain, take a break. He couldn’t have been more than a few blocks away from the hotel he was currently staying at, though he wasn’t too familiar with the area. Part of him knows he should be more careful but he doesn’t linger on that too long.

“ It dangerous or something? ” 

Meet The Muse

Hover over the links for a brief description!

|| The Basics ||

Name: Timothy Wright Nickname(s): Tim Age: 20s-30s (depending on verse) Species: Human

|| Personal ||

Morality: Lawful / Neutral / Chaotic ||| Good / Gray / Evil Religious Belief: Atheist Sins: Lust / Greed / Gluttony / Sloth / Pride / Envy / Wrath Virtues: Chastity / Charity / Diligence / Humility / Kindness / Patience / Justice Primary Goals In Life: To live a normal life, to protect people from himself Languages Known: English Secrets: [REDACTED] Quirks: touches his face often, runs hands through hair, fingers always itching to hold something Savvies: can play keyboard and almost every string instrument semi-well, decent cook

|| Physical ||

Build: Slender/ Scrawny / Bony / Fit / Athletic / Herculean / Babyfat / Pudgy / Obese / Other Height: 5'7 Weight: 160 Ibs. Scars/Birthmarks: a few nicks and cuts he won’t talk about Abilities/Powers: a beacon and source of unspeakable horror, no control over said horror. actually semi-fit from physical work and running for his life. Restrictions: has a bad leg from an injury that never properly healed. has prescription glasses he almost never wears. smoker’s lungs. not tech savvy

|| Favorites ||

Favorite Food: Hardy, homemade Favorite Drink: The cheapest but strongest alcohol Favorite Pizza Topping: Pineapple Favorite Color: Red Favorite Music Genre: Classic rock Favorite Book Genre: Self-help Favorite Movie Genre: Action Favorite Season: Fall Favorite Swear Word: “Fucking shit” Favorite Scent: Cooking food Favorite Quote: “Everything is fine.”

|| Fun Stuff ||

     Tim isn’t the most hyper aware person, what with trying to feign ignorance and keep his head low. Yet, he could never brush away the paranoia of being followed and watched. He knew when someone or something was staring at him; always acutely aware of the sensation of hair raising on the back of his neck. Call it a gift if you wanted, a third sense. He thought of it as more of a curse, as just one more thing that kept him crazy and made living a normal life increasingly difficult. 

     He pauses on the sidewalk, pulling his cigarette from his mouth  and exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air above. Eyes scan the block,  eventually settling on the gaze of a shorter man staring straight at him. Tim feels a sense of... unease, unable to pin down exactly what it was, but instinct telling him to be cautious around this stranger. There was... something, lurking in those dark eyes as they stare at him. He didn’t know what to make of it, but found it best not to ignore him.

THINGS YOUR CHARACTER CANNOT STAND

bold = your character does not enjoy this italic = your character is begrudgingly okay with this, used to it or will at least look the other way strikethrough = your character displays this trait, approves of and/or engages in this behavior (or item)

As he readies the tripod and watches Tim go through his stuff, Jay realizes that they might actually need to move soon. It’s not something he brings up immediately, of course. That takes a bit of planning and budgeting to figure out where they should go next. He hopes that his efforts of tracking Alex will pay off soon…

“ Okay. ” Jay doesn’t really mind that Tim goes out to smoke. It’s just that… he gets really nervous when he can’t keep eyes on him. Tim was a bit of a wild card at times.

His hand rests on top of the camera gently, and when Tim mentions bringing it along, he looks a little surprised. Right. Not going to bed yet. Maybe he really needs to, though. He wouldn’t have forgotten it either way since he never leaves the room without it, but Tim having to bring it up makes him self-conscious of always having it.

“ Yeah, yeah. I’m bringing it. ” 

“ If it makes you feel any better, you can come outside with me. Just no pretending like you aren’t following me and then I see you poking around the corner with you camera. ”

Tim gives him a knowing look, still surprised how Jay managed to make it this far when his stealth skills were, well, bluntly abysmal. 

He sees the tension in his shoulders and knows what’s running  through his head without Jay having to vocalize to him. He didn’t really blame Jay for being as paranoid as he got sometimes, even if it got tiring. Being on high-alert constantly was really doing a toll on both of their nerves. Tim wonders if he’s ever going to be able to enter a building without constantly looking over his shoulder.

He pushes away that train of thought, grabbing the hotel card off the dresser and walking to the door. He undoes the chain and lock, pulling open the door to an empty hallway.