intolerantliberation

[intolerantliberation]

What was your reaction when you found Charlotte dead?

He went silent, looking to the ground. “I...didn’t go in the back room...she wouldn’t have wanted me to...I just baked a little, made something for her...and left...i-it hurt me inside but...it was her decision to make...”

[intolerantliberation]

cxrpusnymphe:

          ❝ What do you mean ? Are we in trouble ? ❞

The Prisoner let out a sharp breath, quickly turning around and holding Salvador’s table leg out like a weapon. “Steven...stay close...” He spoke quietly, the little bug nuzzling up into his coat.

“Listen...I dunno if the virus caused this...or something else did...but you don’t wanna attack me...I’ve been through far too much to die here...and I’m not afraid to swing.” He warned, trying to remain calm.

[intolerantliberation]

The Prisoner sat quietly, writing Salvador's letter with a small smile on his face. These types of moments were the only times he could actually smile anymore, with everything going on around him...

"Dear Friend, It's been a while since I left the cell...that's just like you: helpful, even when it'll harm you as well. Steven and I don't quite know where we are, but the silence is really quite peaceful once you get used to it. Your table leg has come in handy for both a hunting tool and a chair for Steven when we sit and relax. I wish you were here with us. - Prisoner"

As he signed the letter, he sealed it up, before tossing it into the breeze and watching it fly gently away...Just like it was actually being sent.

Dr. Money continued making his way through the forest and pretty soon, he spotted a figure in the dark and the doctor hid himself behind the trunk of a tree.

There he was. The man that was worth millions upon millions of dollars and he didn’t even know it. If he were to have remained in that cell back on that day, he would have known this information, but instead he had chosen to be defiant and the doctor despised him for that fact, but he also knew that The Prisoner despised him for isolating him from the world and it was clear who had the better physique. Dr. Money would have no choice but to wait him out, wait for him to become fatigued. Hopefully he’d be able to remain out of his sight until that happened.

[intolerantliberation]

Ever tried fashioning hunting weapons? I'm sure that, if you find one, a hunting goods store will have some traps you can use.

“That’s kinda...what I planned when I ran out of places to scavenge...recently, I’ve just been using Salvador’s table leg...it’s a good weapon...”

[intolerantliberation]

What's the point of writing to dead people?

He remained silent for a few moments, before finally finding an answer. “It’s...comforting.”

[intolerantliberation]

They never managed to gather too much, mostly just dry and canned things from fridges and pantries...But, it kept him and Steven alive so it was enough. He cleared his throat quietly, finishing his cracker off and giving a few crumbs to Steven. His paper and pen were retrieved from his backpack, beginning to write a letter to Salvador like he usually would.

The ends of the day were usually spent writing to Salvador or Charlotte, acting as though they still walked among him...Even though he knew better. It just made him feel better, updating the two on his progress through the world and what was going on...then he'd simply toss them in the breeze.

Meanwhile, Dr. Money was continuing along in his attempt to find The Prisoner. The doctor passed through town, doing his best to find any sort of sign that The Prisoner was there. The Prisoner would have surely resorted to scavenging at this point, since Dr. Money’s wealth allowed him to buy most of the food before the produce became tainted with the virus. Eventually, he came across a set of footprints in the dirt.

“He’s hiding in the forest… how clever…” This was the lucky break the doctor needed in his search, and he quickly began following the footprints while he still had some daylight on his side. Knowing full well this man would not be happy to see him, Dr. Money attempted to remain as concealed as he possibly could.

[intolerantliberation]

the-critic-burnt

It was the dead of night. The usually silent evenings were being disturbed by something, or someone. The Prisoner picked Steven up and placed him on his shoulder, carefully reaching for his backpack and getting ready to run at the sight of anyone. If Doctor Money had finally found him, there wasn’t a hope in hell that he’d be going back.

He didn't dare say anything, preferring to keep quiet and hope whatever it was passed him by. His breaths were silenced, Steven ceased all squeaking, and he waited for what would come.

[intolerantliberation]

lovable-tragxdy

The Prisoner always assumed he was the only one around for miles, aside from Doctor Money of course. He never heard anything, never saw anything, and never even saw a corpse move. Everyone was always dead; in some way, for some reason, or in some way...they were always dead.

Why, then, was he hearing footsteps? Had Doctor Money finally found him? Was he trying to bring him back to the cell. With a deep breath, he jumped to his feet and looked around, scaring the crap out of Steven but otherwise being better. Coming towards him was someone he’d never seen...red hair, small stature...and a leg made of metal.

[intolerantliberation]

The Prisoner sat in place for a few moments, the letter having left his hands and blown away in the breeze. Steven was clearly concerned, seeming to nuzzle up against his hand to comfort him. "Don't worry...I'm okay..." He sighed, gently petting it's head and smiling softly. "C'mon, we have to go get something to eat tonight..."

A few hours passed, and The Prisoner and Steven had managed to gather some food up from some nearby houses, before venturing back into the forest and setting up camp. He decided that tomorrow it was time to get going...he'd been lagging around town for a few weeks now, but food was going to run out eventually...he needed to see if anyone else was left.

Through some sort of uncanny coincidence, this letter did reach Dr. Money, with the envelope managing to land just at his feet, where he promptly picked it up. The letter itself immediately created questions. The handwriting was unrecognizable and Dr. Money didn’t receive many letters in the first place. Upon opening the letter and reading it through, Dr. Money had a much clearer idea.

This belonged to the prisoner, though he probably wasn’t expecting it to land at it’s recipient, hence the contents. As pissed off as the doctor, this worked in his favor. It meant the prisoner was still alive and he was still worth every penny. Facing the direction the note came from, the doctor set off, in hopes of finding the prisoner so he could be returned to his cell.

[intolerantliberation]

thediscordedcelestia​

“Hm?” A small sound became audible from The Prisoner, curious as to what his friend was doing. Steven, the small bug he’d been given long ago, was acting stranger than usual. Instead of relaxing with him, he had decided to scurry off in a strange direction. 

“Hold on, buddy...” He muttered, following after his dear friend curiously. “If there’s something wrong, just let me know...” After a few minutes of walking, he could hear the sound of...something. It wasn’t someone dying of the virus, as they were already dead...it was someone alive. He remained quiet, carefully creeping towards the sound and keeping Steven in view...However, it wasn’t a person. “I didn’t know the virus caused...mutations...”

[intolerantliberation]

diseasedmoney

The shreds of paper were beginning to build up around him, several previous letters having been attempted and promptly destroyed out of pure anger. The Prisoner never got angry, preferring to be calm and collected about his thoughts...but this individual was someone he couldn't stand. Everything about this person repulsed him, but this was something that had to be done. 

Finally, a letter that appeared decent and hadn’t been destroyed yet was produced. He sealed it into an envelope, wrote the name ‘Doctor Money’ on it, stood up and tossed it into the breeze. He didn’t expect it to ever reach the doctor, but it was a way to get his aggression out.

[intolerantliberation]

To whom it may concern...

                             Home                         Ask                           Information

Sincerely, The Prisoner.

[intolerantliberation]

Doing my own tag dump~

[intolerantliberation]

“...Cold today...” The Prisoner muttered, carefully petting Steven’s head.