Michael
OUT OF DARKNESS INTO THE LIGHT
IF YOU WANT ME GONE
IF YOU WANT ME GONE
Michael.
You were supposed to leave after hearing all of that chaotic shit from Maea.
Not STAY.
Not actually want to do something about it.
But, she'd said - and he believed her because she'd never steered him wrong so far - there was no where safer from that purple hell than in places where people gravitated. Alone, he didn't stand a chance. Not anymore. The world was different now, too different for him to adapt to on his own. Gone, it seemed, were the days where this vagabond traveled alone. Too dangerous now, too, to trek into the unknown to retrieve all of his caches.
PISSED OFF was an understatement, and he wouldn't pace the day away in The Last Whisper. He wanted to do something about it, wanted to stab one of those voids shits in the eye or SOMETHING.
Anything.
And so here he was now within King's End's maze. He'd seen a small, purple creature - spider-like - skitter its way in through some tangled brush and he'd entered the maze perhaps too hastily. Backpack there across his shoulders, a handful of cloth strips, all colored red. He tied them onto branches and leaves before every turn or every choice of direction to ensure he'd find his way out again.
"The hell are you…?" A low mutter as he paused to tie another piece of cloth onto a branch. Taking a right that led down a long, long stretch of maze. A shadowed tunnel of hedges and roses.
If only Michael knew how portions of its walls shifted and changed at random, maybe he would have saved the cloth and never entered in the first place.
You were supposed to leave after hearing all of that chaotic shit from Maea.
Not STAY.
Not actually want to do something about it.
But, she'd said - and he believed her because she'd never steered him wrong so far - there was no where safer from that purple hell than in places where people gravitated. Alone, he didn't stand a chance. Not anymore. The world was different now, too different for him to adapt to on his own. Gone, it seemed, were the days where this vagabond traveled alone. Too dangerous now, too, to trek into the unknown to retrieve all of his caches.
PISSED OFF was an understatement, and he wouldn't pace the day away in The Last Whisper. He wanted to do something about it, wanted to stab one of those voids shits in the eye or SOMETHING.
Anything.
And so here he was now within King's End's maze. He'd seen a small, purple creature - spider-like - skitter its way in through some tangled brush and he'd entered the maze perhaps too hastily. Backpack there across his shoulders, a handful of cloth strips, all colored red. He tied them onto branches and leaves before every turn or every choice of direction to ensure he'd find his way out again.
"The hell are you…?" A low mutter as he paused to tie another piece of cloth onto a branch. Taking a right that led down a long, long stretch of maze. A shadowed tunnel of hedges and roses.
If only Michael knew how portions of its walls shifted and changed at random, maybe he would have saved the cloth and never entered in the first place.
YOU PULL THE TRIGGER YOURSELF
