Hanna Falk Cross (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
falkeditupagain) wrote2013-04-28 06:55 pm
falkeditupagain) wrote2013-04-28 06:55 pm
And we'll eat their dreams until they die inside
Staring in the cracked mirror that morning, Hanna had felt a sense of accomplishment he never really had before. It had been months, and the longest time, he hadn't felt as good as he did now, each deep breath he took, he did so with new lungs, and it reminded him of what he had done to get here. Weeks of sickness, bedridden and miserable. Pushing his body to its limits to find where his true threshold of power was. And, with his shirt off, the absence of the runes on his body, keeping him alive were a sign that maybe he could move on from hiding his problems from the world. That sewing him up wasn't an impossible idea any more, and that the cool metal of his staples could maybe be removed one last time and be replaced with a needle and thread to make a much cleaner line.
This wasn't quite so important though, no. Not right now, early morning, mid June he had a job that needed doing that was at least six months in the making. So, pulling on a shirt to go over the scars, he put his supplies in his pocket, the rest outside and waiting for him, and he quietly heads towards the door. Both Lea and Vriska are aware of his plan, but at the same time he didn't want interference. He wanted to do this alone, and the text's he's left them both are easily written off as Hanna just being Hanna, going and doing shit. He can face the heat later when they get angry that he didn't mention that today was the day, but...this is something he wants to do for himself. It's what he's suffered for the past few months and just like back home, he's got this, all on his lonesome.
Slipping on his shoes, he gives one last glance at the house, the cool summer air still warm and keeping the house a nice temperature, before he shuts the door. The weeder he had found would do the job he was intending it to do just fine, even if it would take quite a while, and he smiled at the little hand tool, ready to set out, his spot all figured out. And the walk in the mid-summer sun was a nice one, feeling like a good omen for the battle that he was sure would come. It was far enough from home and close enough to Pitch's hole in the ground that he wouldn't have to worry about interference but wouldn't have to wait long for his enemy either. And, arriving, he sighed, looking up at the morning sky, void of clouds, before setting to work.
Using the hand tool to carve the lines into the ground had taken a while. The dirt was hard, almost rock like, but it served it's purpose to not fall away or be broken easily at all. It was like carving his work in stone, and the piece was truly large. At least ten feet in diameter, the middle of the rune was the start of the barrier, having started working on the construction of it a few months ago, little by little. The cage was sufficient, he was sure, strong enough that it would hold for a few days while the seal worked to trap the prey and its powers to prevent any sort of attempt at escape. It was hard work, the lines needing to be precise, and there was no real room for error, but he'd been doing this for years and the perfect curves of his circles, the straight lines he dug into the ground were perfect. And when he finished, well...his hands were a mess, but it was worth it.
Having wasted the whole day, and ready to go home to take a few hours of rest before calling Pitch out, he gently scuffed his shoe on the ground at the center of the piece, admiring his handy work before heading back home, tired and accomplished.
But hours later, Hanna was back, luring the nightmare that had tried to tried to invade his dreams like all the past nights previous, and when he got close enough, the horse exploded in a shower of sand and magenta light. Hanna's signal had been sent. He was ready, and with his runes laid out in a circle, ready to alert him of which way the man was coming? Well. He hoped his plan would be fail safe and not let his lack of awareness be a handicap in this fight, even if it cost him a little pain to do so. He had sacrificed too many hours to let a little pain get in the way of completing months of work.
And now all he had left to do was wait in dim light of night, only an hour or two away from the dawn, and Hanna's revenge was near.
This wasn't quite so important though, no. Not right now, early morning, mid June he had a job that needed doing that was at least six months in the making. So, pulling on a shirt to go over the scars, he put his supplies in his pocket, the rest outside and waiting for him, and he quietly heads towards the door. Both Lea and Vriska are aware of his plan, but at the same time he didn't want interference. He wanted to do this alone, and the text's he's left them both are easily written off as Hanna just being Hanna, going and doing shit. He can face the heat later when they get angry that he didn't mention that today was the day, but...this is something he wants to do for himself. It's what he's suffered for the past few months and just like back home, he's got this, all on his lonesome.
Slipping on his shoes, he gives one last glance at the house, the cool summer air still warm and keeping the house a nice temperature, before he shuts the door. The weeder he had found would do the job he was intending it to do just fine, even if it would take quite a while, and he smiled at the little hand tool, ready to set out, his spot all figured out. And the walk in the mid-summer sun was a nice one, feeling like a good omen for the battle that he was sure would come. It was far enough from home and close enough to Pitch's hole in the ground that he wouldn't have to worry about interference but wouldn't have to wait long for his enemy either. And, arriving, he sighed, looking up at the morning sky, void of clouds, before setting to work.
Using the hand tool to carve the lines into the ground had taken a while. The dirt was hard, almost rock like, but it served it's purpose to not fall away or be broken easily at all. It was like carving his work in stone, and the piece was truly large. At least ten feet in diameter, the middle of the rune was the start of the barrier, having started working on the construction of it a few months ago, little by little. The cage was sufficient, he was sure, strong enough that it would hold for a few days while the seal worked to trap the prey and its powers to prevent any sort of attempt at escape. It was hard work, the lines needing to be precise, and there was no real room for error, but he'd been doing this for years and the perfect curves of his circles, the straight lines he dug into the ground were perfect. And when he finished, well...his hands were a mess, but it was worth it.
Having wasted the whole day, and ready to go home to take a few hours of rest before calling Pitch out, he gently scuffed his shoe on the ground at the center of the piece, admiring his handy work before heading back home, tired and accomplished.
But hours later, Hanna was back, luring the nightmare that had tried to tried to invade his dreams like all the past nights previous, and when he got close enough, the horse exploded in a shower of sand and magenta light. Hanna's signal had been sent. He was ready, and with his runes laid out in a circle, ready to alert him of which way the man was coming? Well. He hoped his plan would be fail safe and not let his lack of awareness be a handicap in this fight, even if it cost him a little pain to do so. He had sacrificed too many hours to let a little pain get in the way of completing months of work.
And now all he had left to do was wait in dim light of night, only an hour or two away from the dawn, and Hanna's revenge was near.
no subject
But suddenly a sharp pain comes up his arm, Hanna swirling around to see him there, behind him. Except, instead of running, he charges forward, that same rune that he had used to punch Pitch in the face before on his palm, ready. He doesn't care if he gets hurt at this moment. An eye for an eye in this situation is good enough for him. And then, after that, they can just play a game of cat and mouse until he finally gets him into the seal in the middle of their playing field and wait.
no subject
The shadows boiled, Pitch's clothing and hair shifting inhumanly as darkness rose up his skin to obscure everything short of his eyes which morphed in to glowing pits as a dark maw with jagged edges that resembled teeth cracked across his face.
He grew taller, a pillar of darkness that dripped shadowy wisps.
"Going to run little morsel?" He said, more of the eyes opening along his back. It was certainly Pitch speaking, but there was a perfectly in sync crowd speaking as well. "Do you know how long it's been since I've eaten someone?"
no subject
The words, loud, made him swallow, hard and his fingers clenched into fists. He wouldn't run. "I don't care to know."
But how was he even going to reach him when he was this height? He looks back, towards the middle of the large array and thinks a moment. He could just lure him in, finish this right now. But he's not sure he wants it to end just like this. There isn't enough satisfaction in it. Not enough skill shown to create that fear inside Pitch's heart too. He may be just a human, but when cornered, they show their worth.
"Eat this, mother fucker." And, reaching behind him to grab his hammer from the back of his belt, he hurls it straight up towards the now hideously dark figure above him, aiming at his face.
no subject
Every aggravation about this place, every frustration since the day he'd woken in this hellpit was screaming at him to rip and devour the boy and there was little reason Pitch saw not to do it at this point. People needed to be reminded of what he was, how dangerous he could be if his ire raised and making a dripping half eaten example of one of them was the most blatant way of doing it.
He would string the boy up from somewhere high and leave the idiot's PCD to record him. Death may not be permanent here but Pitch would be sure to make it horrible enough to send a message.
no subject
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" And each movement from the dark figure bursts on his skin and it's distracting enough that he falls just short of the middle of the circle. He can feel the presence of the darkness drawing nearer and he swallows, turning around to try and scramble backwards before he can be touched. It's a little too far though and it's going to be a painful, he knows, but Hanna grits his teeth as Pitch draws closer, eyes closing as his fingers curl around the marker in his pocket and he waits for the suffering because it's bound to be there, any second now.
But the closer he gets the better it is. Even if he gets beaten to hell. Even if he loses something. He's gained so much and this fight is everything he's worked for. No pain, no gain. "C-come at me, Spooky fucker. I'm ready for you."