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 Posted: Thu May 19, 2016 8:09 pm
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Posted: Thu May 19, 2016 8:09 pm
While he was unconscious, Huxtable dreamt of many things he would not remember upon waking up. He dreamt of his sister, barely a woman, chastising him after a bout with bullies as she cleaned up the blood from his face and pressed ice to the bruises; it should've been his mother there, but she'd been long gone by then. He dreamt of Gretta- her green eyes boring into him with a certain scintillating intensity that he had always been so fond of, and would always find himself missing. She grinned at him, so sure and so confident; stripped bare before him like she'd just stepped out of the shower- still dripping. He dreamt of his father, mind slowly deteriorating as the years passed him by; mumbling words that were incoherent and heavily slurred. An empty bottle of whiskey sat next to him, overturned and broken. He dreamt of a man-turned-monster, fur ripping past skin and fingers morphing into claws. He dreamt of himself, staring blearily in the mirror at 4AM; a woman whose name he did not know moving to approach him from behind, encircling her pale arms around his waist and humming into the skin between his shoulder blades. It was a tune that belonged to one of his songs. He dreamt of Desdemona, climbing a seemingly endless tree as she hummed a soft tune to herself- he recognized it, could remember Margaery singing the very same thing to him when he'd been Desi's age. Every bit of his dream came and went in flashes, and none of them seemed to correlate. When he woke up, pinned by the weight of a book case; head bleeding and body aching, he had to lay there a moment and squint into the darkness. He had to remember who he was, where he was, and what had happened. By the time he pulled himself from beneath the shelf, it was far too late for him to escape. [ 325 words ]
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Posted: Mon May 23, 2016 7:07 am
Blood. So much ******** blood. Huxtable tried not to vomit, but his insides swirled dangerously, and when his eyes landed on the small bloody bundle held by a woman seemingly... somewhere else... the long limbed male had no choice but to double over and hurl into the nearest decorative plant. Afterwards, he allowed himself some rest, moving to a more or less private corner of the library and sliding down so that he could sit with his back to the wall with his head in his hands. Margaery sure did pick a weird place to raise her kids. He thought to himself with a small, pathetic chuckle. He'd only been here a few days and already everything had gone to s**t. He glanced at the bundle again, frowning. Once again, he was glad to have the knowledge that his sister and the kids were far away from this catastrophe. He couldn't imagine what sort of state he'd be in, had they- too- been trapped here. Perhaps he would've been more keen on assisting the others with finding an escape. As it was, he figured they were at the mercy of the authorities outside no matter what. He more or less understood why the police were hesitant to come in- if it was some sort of spreadable disease, they probably didn't want it going any further than the library. Still, they seemed so... useless. Weren't these the people they were supposed to rely on? A woman passed him, paused. "Are you okay?" She asked. "I don't know." Hux replied, honestly. He wasn't sure how the ******** he felt about all this. Since when was it normal, all this s**t that was going on around him? People were talking about things he hadn't even dreamt of as being possible. Of werewolves and wargs and powers. What the ******** sort of town was Margaery living in? [ 313 words ]
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Posted: Mon May 23, 2016 7:08 am
Huxtable was hairy, but he was nowhere near as hairy as some of the people he noticed milling around the library. It was... intriguing, to say the least. He'd seen a documentary or two on hypertrichosis, one of them being a more generalized thing about freak shows. He'd never expected to come into contact with one... and, weren't some of the people calling them weres? The entire ordeal was making his brain hurt, and the wound on his skull didn't help much either. Hux huffed and ran a hand through his long locks of hair. It had fallen out of it's usual bun during the chaos, and now hung loose around his shoulders; trailing down to just above his hips. In school, he'd been called things like princess or Rapunzel because of his hair. Those days felt far away now, and he'd learn to love his lengthy mane; but he preferred to keep it up. He felt somehow... vulnerable... when it was down. The 32 year old reached for a book nearest to him, releasing an amused snort when he realized the blood-spattered cover read 𝓡𝓐𝓟𝓤𝓝𝓩𝓔𝓛 in heavy, cursive font. How ironic, he thought to himself. He glance around the library- the bits that he could see, that is. For the most part, everyone that could be helped were. Some people were pacing, others huddled together in soft conversation, a few- like him- sitting alone in random places, gathering their thoughts. Hux looked back down at the book, cracked it open, and began to read. There'd be time to ponder his situation later, when all of this s**t was through. Or... there wouldn't be. Either way, there was no use worrying about it now. [ 284 words ]
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Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 7:29 am
The police and paramedics began to swarm the first floor like ants whose hill had been destroyed by some sour-faced child. Hux watched from his corner, allowing a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding to escape from his lungs. It was over. He was, for the most part, unharmed. He would be leaving the building upright, of his own accord. Others would be leaving in body bags. The thirty two year old watched as the nurse- the one who'd first come into contact with the were- was carefully placed behind heavy, light-blocking plastic. Her eyes were still open, her lips parted as though she were gasping. For the third time that day, Hux turned his back to the general public and retched. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes and glistened in his beard. It was as though he'd been viewing himself for the past few hours, rather than living it. As though he hadn't really been here and was instead somewhere else, hearing about the event on the news. He could go home and he could forget about everything he saw. He could tell Margaery that, no, he hadn't been anywhere near the campus when hell took over a bit of her beloved Ashdown. He could take the kids to the park and he could sit on a bench and watch them play, and he could put everything he had seen today at the furthest corner of his mind. Others, however, would not be so lucky. Lives had been lost. The lives of family, friends, strangers... Hux thought of the woman that had helped him. Rosie. Was she ok? He thought of the people that had all been crowding around the Sweet Spot's booth, were they ok? He thought of the woman in heels, and the man who had been so obviously in love with the wine he sold- were they alright? Hux huffed. He ran a hand through his long hair. He joined the queue exiting the building, and he did his best to keep his hands from shaking as he moved towards the open air. [ 351 words ]
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Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 7:30 am
"I- I didn't see m-much. You know, I wasn't... I wasn't there. Why would I be there?" A pause. Margaery squinted at him, frowning and skeptical. "Well, ok. I was there, but I wasn't- I was unconscious, and-" He huffed, nervous chuckled. " And?" "- and... I could've done more. I should've done... more. I- I froze, and I- I ran... a book case got knocked on me... I crawled out and it was- it was hell. Literal hell. All around me. Blood, and b-bodies and... were? And wargs? This man, Mar, this man ********' turned. He turned into this wolf thing that just- it attacked this nurse... this nurse that was trying to help it... er him...?" Hux's hands shook as he told his tale, tears brimming in the slate grey eyes that he refused to show past his wave of dark, dark hair. "It was nuts. It was like- a nightmare. I don't know what's going on anymore." "A nightmare." Margaery said, move towards her younger brother slowly and calmly- complete the mother she was and always would be. Huxtable nodded. He huffed again, released a long breath. He must have been talking in his sleep again. The thirty two year old's entire body shuddered as a lithe hand was placed carefully on his bicep. Margaery had not inherited the Keighley height. Instead, she was about 5'7 and somewhat plump. There was a tired look to her, that Hux wasn't used to, but knew was because of the chemo. Hux sighed, looked away. "Yeah, Mar, a nightmare." A pause. "Thanks." [ 260 words ]
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