![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
whistlewhilstyouwork) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
hadriel2018-05-14 06:50 pm
Code - 007 [Accidental Video]
What it records is things flying, splintering, rolling, bouncing, cracking, and somewhere, mostly off-screen aside from a glimpse of an arm or a leg, is Whistler throwing and shoving anything that is within his reach, now and again screaming in an almost animalistic and desperate frustration. Occasionally he stops when he meets a wall, slams his fists against it, before seemingly getting more upset by some unseen crime the wall or the vase he just threw or the chair he angrily pushes over just committed.
That crime being: they did not make sound.
None of them. Not his fist. Not the things he's flung across the room. Not even his own voice though he can feel its claws making his throat hoarse...not even that makes a sound.
Whistler is now not only blind, but deaf. He had woken up and could not be sure that he was awake. There was no sound to tell him so. His ears now as useless as his eyes. Only his hands could reaffirm for him that he was, in fact, awake. Alive. But what he can touch gives him little comfort right now. Instead adding to his frustration that he cannot force a sound from a single thing in this muted, sightless existence he now finds himself in.
Perhaps you recognize his apartment if you are one of the few who knows him. Or perhaps you happen to be passing by the spire when something crashes through a top floor window. Or maybe you are in the hallway and can hear him screaming from the floors above.
Whatever the case, he's not about to stop until he's worn himself out entirely.
Eventually the phone gets struck by another object landing on top of it and it cuts the feed.]
hope you don't mind an action tag
The room inside is quiet. She tries the door, leans on it, then with one, two, three heaves of her weight against it she goes flying through and is suddenly, ungracefully sprawling on the floor of the apartment.]
Nngh, fuck my life... [Julie groans, rolling onto her back and trying to find some balance in the way the entire world is tilting under her. It's like being drunk without the inflated sense of self-esteem, and she doesn't care for it. She wobbles herself up to her feet, her hand on the wall, and steps tentatively forwards.]
Irwin?
[Where is he? That display over the phone has given her a bad feeling.]
I never mind!! <3
He doesn't answer when his name is called. He doesn't know it was called.
But the vibration of the door being thrown and someone entering does not go unnoticed by his fingers and he instinctively tries to press himself even deeper into the corner.]
no subject
Irwin?
[It's a relief to actually not be standing up anymore when she crumples down in front of him. She plants her hands on his knees and swallows a wave of balance-loss induced nausea.]
What is it, what's the matter?
no subject
And when hands touch his knees, it is a purely gut-driven reaction to try and roll away from them, trying to use the wall as a push off point, but ending up only a foot or so away, sprawled on his back and breathing heavily in his panic]
...nn...
[He shuffles a bit farther away with a tired kicked of his leg against the floor]
d-don't.
[It's as though he can't form the sounds correctly. The emphasis on the vowel falls wrong and his ears can't verify if he successfully made the 'd' . His touch had touched the roof of his mouth but had the sound come out?]
I...I can't see...I...I can't....hear....
[All of the sounds have the wrong pitches, malformed words]
no subject
[It's so cruel. It's beyond cruel. He can't see her or hear her, how would he even know..? The way he all but throws himself away from her is startling, but there's something familiar about this position.
Haven't they been here before?
She reaches for his hand and curls her fingers around it, giving a light squeeze against the knuckles. At least he isn't bleeding to death this time.]
Come on... It's me, you know me...
no subject
He swallows hard around a knot in his throat before making a choked noise, frustrated and exhausted tears beginning to roll in meandering paths down his cheeks, disappearing at his jawline and into his hair.
Now that he knows who is with him he can just fall apart. He can trust her to see him fall apart.]
...J...julie....
no subject
He's a mess. The place is a mess. At least this isn't going to be permanent.]
Ngh, come on up. [He'll have to help her, she isn't quite strong enough to pull him up on her own. But once she's managed it, she wraps her arms around him and pulls the side of his head against the curve of her throat.]
It's okay...
no subject
...can y-you hear me?
[He tries to ask quietly, voice hoarse and awkward. For all he knows his voice has been muted as well.]
no subject
Yeah, I can hear you. [She mutters, lightly pressing her chin into his hair.]
Shit, I can't leave you alone for a minute...
no subject
[He tries to laugh but ends up just sniffling and trying to steady his breath]
Are you alright? Did it get you too?
[Whistler's not sure how exactly she can convey any of this beyond a nod or a shake of her head but he's at least finding something calming in being able to speak to her and to know she is hearing him]
no subject
Then, a nod to the second and third questions. Yes, she's fine, but yes, it got her too. Julie shifts herself around, taking one of his hands and flattening it out, tracing letters into his palm.
B A L A N C E I S F U C K E D]
no subject
Bal...Balance? [He tries reciting his best guess]
....is....
[When he gets to the last word he can't help but laugh weakly, sticking out his tongue though the gesture feels more forced than his usual playful demeanor]
That's a naughty word, Jules
no subject
P E N I S
Because she's actually five.
She chuckles to herself again, then goes on, taking her time to make sure he gets every word. Each time it's a new word, she flattens her fingers against his palm to form a 'space'.
Y O U L L / B E / O K // I T / W O N T / L A S T /]
no subject
When she writes again on his skin, he draws in a deep breath trying to steady himself.]
When I w-woke up...I thought maybe...you know...maybe I was back in San Francisco. That this...this was what had happened after the van crashed....
[The muscles of his throat quiver unpleasantly, causing his voice to wobble at the end]
...y-you know...i...I can't be 'Whistler'...if...if I can't hear...I....I can't....
no subject
Ssssh.
It's amazing and tragic all at once that he can look so afraid but still be unable to see her.
It won't last. I'm right here.]