suffocationpit:
— 🐱 @spinechill. ❜
RUMMAGE. RUMMAGE. RUMMAGE. These survivors are like damn critters in the walls, scraping and scratching; he can hear the distinctive clatter of clutter being rifled through, and instantly the heir to the Macmillan fortune knows someone’s obviously set their sights on the contents of one of the chests littering his Estate, looking for something to aid them in the repair of gen perhaps, or to patch up a rather nasty abdominal wound. The sound echoes from the place his father’s mine workers perished: the abandoned frame of the Suffocation Pit sits in the clearing of fog-strewn trees, a mass grave of a hundred lost souls drowned in coal & ash, starved and suffered for their one sin: working for Archie Macmillan. It’s not very frequent he should catch someone this early in the Entity’s games — whoever it is must’ve begun the match in there, he thinks, and edges closer to the window that sits open, not boarded up, trying to snare a glimpse of the perpetrator, but stops in his tracks, knowing the heartbeat could briefly give him a way. Despite it, Evan has INSIDIOUS; grants him the ability to become silent after slight movement, so he stands, a towering, stocky shadow of metal & misery, eyeing the one girl known to be sleek & as smooth footed as a black cat pick apart old wooden chest.
Nea Karlsson. Hard to catch, but not in the ways that brat MEG THOMAS is hard to grab hold of. Meg is fast, quick and quiet, the spring-loaded hare that bounces and bolts yet refuses to step in one of his traps and just break her fucking ankles to pieces. He hates her with every bone in his body, but his loathing for Megan is different to his hatred for NEA. Nea is the one you pass several times over, not quite realizing she is there. Because she is silent, graceful, and light footed — she is the shadow you don’t hear unless she’s INJURED. So THE TRAPPER watches. Waits. And just as she is about to pull back with her finding, ( or so he thinks she is, anyway ), he slings a leg through the window frame, begins to clamber through, breath heavy & hard behind NIGHTMARISH GRIN as he speaks in a voice rough as gravel. “ Didn’t y’mother teach yer stealin’s a crime, KARLSSON? I can chop off y’hand f’that.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK!
Nea had materialized at this spot, surrounded by grime, trees like dead corpses waiting for the noose, nearing defunct mine where so many souls perished, and coal mingled with dead earth clings to her shoes, her hands, to her very features. The sour stench of DEATH sticks to her like a bulbous disease, a thin moist film clasping onto her skin: and each passing night she reminds herself, the first thing she'll do once she gets out of this fucking hellhole is shower for three days. She did not hear. No. That's a lie: she felt her heart pump itself harder, heard it in her ears but she stupidly chose to ignore it — besides, he couldn’t have been THAT close for she heard nothing. Wrong. She could not fathom, this early in the game, she would be found, both arms rummaging through clutter, sharp things cutting onto her skin, biting little red mouths, until finally something of value, something worth the help, was found. Why the Entity gives them ANYTHING to pertain to the survivors' survival, Nea cannot, and will never understand. It wants to FEED. Wants to swallow their souls little by little, and so, why give the poor souls trapped in here even a sliver of a chance? And Nea, flashlight clasped between fingers and her eyes on the behemoth sliding casually past the window frame, she thinks one day, when she comes face to face with the Entity, when she won't be winded by the hook piercing her spine, she will ask Her — IT — why give us anything at all? She springs upward to her feet, dark hair plastered to her forehead with cold sweat and teeth biting tight together. ❝You fuckin' wish, asshole❞, she spits through gritted teeth, giving herself an air while stepping backward once. Twice. But he may just see through her bravado, see the FEAR behind it. The flashlight lights up its bone white beam, first at his feet, and then trying to catch his eyes behind the hideous, smiling mask. ❝Get fucked❞, she returns and, hoping the light has done its job to blind the sadistic killer, Nea swirls and begins to run.
