[ it did consume my motorbike. steve is momentarily haunted by the image of pink sludge crawling up the sides of a motorcycle, and then by the idea of that consuming a body, and after all those weird old horror movies robin forced him to watch that one halloween, steve's decided that actually, you know, he's fine with not knowing the details of it for now. ]
Yeah, I'm good to avoid it altogether. [ by the time steve's attention is back, geralt is moving up the ladder, the wood creaking under his weight. geralt is shifting boxes and crates around when he climbs up, and then steve is following soon after, and for good measure is reaching down to grab what he can of the ladder and pull it up after him.
maybe it's the action of it - maybe it is something more - but he's hit with a sudden, uncomfortable feeling of nostalgia as he adjusts his eyes to the room around them. it's an attic, nothing special about that, but there is something of the boxes of the stacking and the size of the room that has him feeling...well. like he's been here before.
he pushes to his feet, frowning slightly as he looks around, trying to place it, but also wondering if he should even bother. they have a direction they're headed, after all. there's no real point in lingering. ] If we're going to keep going up, we might need to find some windows. [ steve, propelled by this thought, steps around one of the crates that now isn't much of a crate at all, but instead a large plastic tub labeled, in large block letters, CHRISTMAS. he doesn't pay it that much mind as he steps around the box and immediately stubs his foot into a small metal tricycle, pain shooting up through his foot. ]
Shit! Why is this even...
[ wait. steve's eyes widen when he gets a good look at the small toy, then as he looks around them even more.
there's a reason he recognizes this space, why the boxes feel a little too familiar. this is his attic, from back in hawkins, except...not. ]
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[ it did consume my motorbike. steve is momentarily haunted by the image of pink sludge crawling up the sides of a motorcycle, and then by the idea of that consuming a body, and after all those weird old horror movies robin forced him to watch that one halloween, steve's decided that actually, you know, he's fine with not knowing the details of it for now. ]
Yeah, I'm good to avoid it altogether. [ by the time steve's attention is back, geralt is moving up the ladder, the wood creaking under his weight. geralt is shifting boxes and crates around when he climbs up, and then steve is following soon after, and for good measure is reaching down to grab what he can of the ladder and pull it up after him.
maybe it's the action of it - maybe it is something more - but he's hit with a sudden, uncomfortable feeling of nostalgia as he adjusts his eyes to the room around them. it's an attic, nothing special about that, but there is something of the boxes of the stacking and the size of the room that has him feeling...well. like he's been here before.
he pushes to his feet, frowning slightly as he looks around, trying to place it, but also wondering if he should even bother. they have a direction they're headed, after all. there's no real point in lingering. ] If we're going to keep going up, we might need to find some windows. [ steve, propelled by this thought, steps around one of the crates that now isn't much of a crate at all, but instead a large plastic tub labeled, in large block letters, CHRISTMAS. he doesn't pay it that much mind as he steps around the box and immediately stubs his foot into a small metal tricycle, pain shooting up through his foot. ]
Shit! Why is this even...
[ wait. steve's eyes widen when he gets a good look at the small toy, then as he looks around them even more.
there's a reason he recognizes this space, why the boxes feel a little too familiar. this is his attic, from back in hawkins, except...not. ]