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gritpyre-archived · 3 years

Text

Drip.

Originally a reply to an rp I have with @clockworkgalaxies, I got carried away and wrote uuuh a lot, thought I might as well post it here! Basil belongs to my friend

Hours pass, languid, lethargic; the grey of the sky parts as the clouds let the sun peek dimly, coating the twilight in rust colored reds and yellows. Specs of dust see-saw their way to the floor, their trajectory illuminated briefly by little beams of light that dance around the room. Alma’s eye follows their sway indifferently, she has one ear pinned backward towards where Basil lays in bed, the other listening firmly to the sepulchral silence of the building.

She can hear the brat’s breathing; it’s rhythmical, regular, a comforting and blissful distraction. It’s enough for a while, she can focus on it and cast away the twitches of her hands, her grinding teeth, the ever building tension that makes her muscles burn with the desire to tear themselves apart. She tries to count Basil’s breaths, tries to let the numbers bury the gasping of her mind, but she can never make it past thirteen without a particularly violent twitch forcing her to start over.

But the scream resurfaces eventually - too early for her taste. It gnaws violently at her frontal lobe, banging around the bones in her skull, demanding attention, to be heard and acknowledged. She almost wants to yell to let it out but she knows it wouldn’t change anything, the scream doesn’t belong to her and therefore, she has no right to get rid of it. Without escape it keeps building up, she can feel its slow travel downwards when her brain isn’t enough to contain it, tearing through each of her vertebra, yanking down her shoulders, zapping the nerves around her hands, siphoning the strength in her legs, making the nothing in her stomach roil, threatening to burst through every single pore in her skin-

Alma!

She grimaces, closing her eyes hard as she brings a hand to her face, palming around her head as if she could grab the echo and crush it in between her talons, but all her fingers find is a tarry wetness trickling lazily from under her eyepatch. It takes her a couple of muddled seconds before recognition hits her so hard she stumbles until her back hits a wall, the squelch that comes from the impact confirming her fears.

There is blood all over her, coming out through the markings. Her good eye looks down to find sinewy threads painting her body an almost pitch black red, the heavy drip… drip… drip… of her fleshy blood screeching in her ears, the shock finally silencing the scream, or maybe the body had just found a way to let it out through a different path. She swallows hard, hissing when her throat hurts and tastes of iron.

She stops her hands from trying to wipe the mess off from her, knowing the flow won’t stop until it wants to. Alma hopes it won’t get bad enough for her to pass out like an idiot, but even then Tati could just throw her into a corner and wait for her to wake up or die; though she knows for a fact the older woman would prefer her alive, if only because she’s making a huge mess on the already fucked up floor and she’d love to chew her out for it as she cleans it herself because her dumb ass doesn’t even know how to use a mop-

That dripping is annoying.

Either way, she already owes her for what she did for the stupid kid, adding another nuisance to the mix in a single day is nothing new for her, and she’s sure she will handle whatever form of pay Tati requests of her, even if she has to do it a couple pints lighter, dizzy and nauseous and shivering, it really didn’t matter.

Shivering?

Drip. The sound makes her heart jolt, chest rising and falling as her eye looks for the source of the noise automatically, Alma chuckles nervously when she remembers it’s just her blood already making a small pool for itself at the base of her feet. It feels weird, she trembles at the sight.

Ridiculous, she thinks, she’s been covered from head to toe in her own ichor innumerable times, there’s nothing to be afraid of, it doesn’t matter how it’s happening when it’s a familiar situation. Her gaze pans to the windows, from where the sun is still making its way to disappear behind the horizon. She sighs, hugging herself tight, ears pinning themselves against her head when the movement sends trickles of blood clashing onto the floor, the sound reverberating through the whole building.

That can’t be right. It’s too loud, someone will come to yell at her and she won’t be able to hear them through the noise her blood is making, she can barely hear herself through the slow trickling encompassing her body, every single drop a cacophony.

Her head quickly starts pounding as strongly as her heart, and she finds herself hunching painfully, crushed under the tumult. Some nebulous part of her questions how is it that Basil is still sleeping with the dripping clamoring and threatening to bludgeon dozens of holes into the floor. She wishes he would wake but before she can wonder why the shivering intensifies, her body tensing with enough strength to make her gasp for air.

The fear returns when the noise starts coming through the walls, from the ceilings, she hears the slothful dripping coming in through the beams of light, ringing around in the specs of dust still drifting to the floor, mixing in with the scream she had torn from Basil and Ashlei and Ashlei and Ashlei’s throat.

She needs to get away, she needs to escape the noise, beat it out of herself if need be, but she’s frozen in place, the oozing of her blood running cold like icicles piercing her joints, nailing her in place with a glacial grip. And in that moment of surprise she realizes the room is quiet.

But it’s so loud.

---

When Basil begins to stir she’s slumped in the farthest corner of the room, disheveled hair obscuring her face in the low light, a trail of acrid smelling blood following her from outside. She has a hand propped in one of her knees, holding her head. One of her ears flickers when she hears him swear, a laughter that doesn’t quite seem to erupt from her droning through the place.

‘‘Mornin’, sunshine.’’

#whump #lady whump #angst #horror whump #body horror #body horror tw #my writing #my ocs #alma guerrero #friend's ocs #basil #monster oc #emotional whump #unreality tw

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