vorrutyer: (really fucking stressed)
Byerly Vorrutyer ([personal profile] vorrutyer) wrote in [community profile] nysalogs 2018-04-12 10:42 pm (UTC)

Shit -

[ Three shots snapped off in the space between one breath and the next, the gun emitting nothing louder than a soft buzz. All three shots hit, splashing with a bright-light sort of halo against the creature's head. Nothing. One hit should have been enough to fell the average man, two surely enough for a slavering wolf-man who looked like he stepped right out of a Time of Isolation morality play. But this creature isn't real, no more than Nadine was real, no more than Vorrutyer Kreposte was real. No more than these children - good God, that's Richie as a child, isn't it, there's something about the eyes - are real.

Yet even so, he lets off two more shots. And even so, he crowds backward, reaching out his left arm like a barrier to protect the older-Richie from any incursions. Both equally effective. He's shooting at and shielding against illusions. Fool. ]


Shit.

[ Then, once the initial buzz of adrenaline fades, that perfect clear focus that makes his heart beat slower and his hand more steady, once conscious thought comes to the surface again and he tells himself that fucking obviously he can't do anything to save those kids, this is a memory, so those kids will save themselves - ]

What the hell is this?

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