Post by tsukikoko on Jan 11, 2023 12:55:46 GMT -6
"Eeee man, I cannae believe the bloke divvint die, like. An' aye, tah say nowt? The 'ell's 'e playin' at like?"
The shifter shook her head in disbelief. Surely someone couldn't just brush off being grabbed by some ghostly hand or another? Most people would be screaming and running a mile.
Baffling. Simply baffling.
As the movie continued on, showing the experiences of this family in the house, Sara's palm raised to slap her forehead, lightly, at the reaction of Emma's daughter to sudden, unexplained footprints from water beside an overturned noodle cup.
"Don't check the- Christ alive, git ya mother owt. Why does no-one ever leave in these things?"
The exasperation covered for a fresh wave of mounting dread. Partially. She knew something was coming and could feel her grip on Aaron tightening once again in preparation.
She couldn't figure out what the provocation for attack seemed to be though; the realtor hadn't been dragged off and Emma herself had been left alive for apparently a good long while, yet it seemed the rest of the family were about to be seen off, if the foreboding scenes unfolding were anything to go by. What was the trigger? Resemblance to something the spirit dislikes, just random chance?
It could always be because plot dictates, she supposed.
The man had come home to the house in a mess, Emma sat alone. After asking where the daughter - Jennifer - had gone, she indicated with a nod of her head. Sara felt her dread rising higher. Her voice hissed to Aaron, low so she didn't disrupt the mounting tension.
"Reckon she's already dead, like?"
The man on screen tried the lightswitch. Of course they didn't work, of course they didn't. He approached the bed, with a light smile on his face as he assumed Jennifer to be sleeping, a sight that made Sara's stomach twist because she knew that affectionate expression was about to be shattered.
Sure enough, she was breathing but apparently unable to move, only making light gurgling noises from her throat. The shifter began to sink down into her seat, finger rising to partially cover her face.
"Ahhh... something's gannin' te 'appen I-"
A sudden, loud hiss and the appearance of the ghostly boy neatly cut off her words with a flinch. A laugh bubbled up, though not one of humour so much as nervous tension and disbelief.
"By 'eck, did 'e just hiss, like?"
When his mouth opened into a gaping, black abyss of a hole and a cacophony of angry cat noises came out, Sara shunted and half scrabbled back with a cut-off cry, so she was now nearly laying back on the sofa. One leg and part of her tail ended up in Aaron's lap, while one hand gripped the sofa fabric and a brief ripple had cascaded down her skin from a threatened shift.
And the scene wasn't even over.
Wide-eyed, her voice had turned into a long, drawn-out, close-lipped keening sound as the rest of the scene thundered on, unable to tear her gaze away.
The shifter shook her head in disbelief. Surely someone couldn't just brush off being grabbed by some ghostly hand or another? Most people would be screaming and running a mile.
Baffling. Simply baffling.
As the movie continued on, showing the experiences of this family in the house, Sara's palm raised to slap her forehead, lightly, at the reaction of Emma's daughter to sudden, unexplained footprints from water beside an overturned noodle cup.
"Don't check the- Christ alive, git ya mother owt. Why does no-one ever leave in these things?"
The exasperation covered for a fresh wave of mounting dread. Partially. She knew something was coming and could feel her grip on Aaron tightening once again in preparation.
She couldn't figure out what the provocation for attack seemed to be though; the realtor hadn't been dragged off and Emma herself had been left alive for apparently a good long while, yet it seemed the rest of the family were about to be seen off, if the foreboding scenes unfolding were anything to go by. What was the trigger? Resemblance to something the spirit dislikes, just random chance?
It could always be because plot dictates, she supposed.
The man had come home to the house in a mess, Emma sat alone. After asking where the daughter - Jennifer - had gone, she indicated with a nod of her head. Sara felt her dread rising higher. Her voice hissed to Aaron, low so she didn't disrupt the mounting tension.
"Reckon she's already dead, like?"
The man on screen tried the lightswitch. Of course they didn't work, of course they didn't. He approached the bed, with a light smile on his face as he assumed Jennifer to be sleeping, a sight that made Sara's stomach twist because she knew that affectionate expression was about to be shattered.
Sure enough, she was breathing but apparently unable to move, only making light gurgling noises from her throat. The shifter began to sink down into her seat, finger rising to partially cover her face.
"Ahhh... something's gannin' te 'appen I-"
A sudden, loud hiss and the appearance of the ghostly boy neatly cut off her words with a flinch. A laugh bubbled up, though not one of humour so much as nervous tension and disbelief.
"By 'eck, did 'e just hiss, like?"
When his mouth opened into a gaping, black abyss of a hole and a cacophony of angry cat noises came out, Sara shunted and half scrabbled back with a cut-off cry, so she was now nearly laying back on the sofa. One leg and part of her tail ended up in Aaron's lap, while one hand gripped the sofa fabric and a brief ripple had cascaded down her skin from a threatened shift.
And the scene wasn't even over.
Wide-eyed, her voice had turned into a long, drawn-out, close-lipped keening sound as the rest of the scene thundered on, unable to tear her gaze away.