there's nothing i'd like less

*Poser* · 09-22-2016, 12:00 PM

Poser finds the base of a stately maple when he's not sure he has anything left. He has nothing left in him, no strength in his system. Nothing that he can grasp, nothing that he can hold onto. There's something about him, there's something that's absolutely missing from his system. He feels drained. The tzar doesn't really... know what he thinks. Know what he feels. There's something empty in his chest, something strange and... devoid. Right. He's a slender shadow in the low light of the afternoon. Tired. Maybe he'd just... nap here for a bit. Maybe he'd think and stay here.

The sleep that takes Poser over is fitful. He's sinking into darkness, and then... and then everything is okay again? He's walking the halls of the asylum that they'd called home. The sun was filtering through cracked glass in the atrium, scattering light off in all directions, warm sunny spots filling him up, heating his dark coat. The musty scent that hung around in the halls after it rained, clinging to the Victorian wallpaper. He can hear Hatter's voice somewhere down the hall, he can hear it where it echoes. It's indistinct, but Poser barks after it. Pace picking up, moving from carpet to hardwood, claws clicking. They're playing hide and go seek.

But the hallway goes on forever. Shadows. The shadows are growing taller, more sinister. The smell of must becomes mold in his head, and he's empty. Poser is so empty as he bolts down the hallway, and it's still not ending. It's still not ending. He's barking, and the sound is so desperate it's physically painful. "You're nothing but a poser," Poser can hear it. He can hear the Hare's voice, and it sends white hot fear coursing down his spine. He runs faster, but it's no use. The pain. Fuck. The pain in his chest, the pain in his neck, in his throat. He's bleeding. The shadow bleeds.

When Poser comes to it's dark, he's panting, and he's clinging to the base of the maple like it'll save him. He needs to ground himself. Stumbling to his feet, the tzar barfs in a bush. He can't do this. He can't do this at all.
your charged touch
poser
breathy way of saying my name

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