authors prewriting notes
i see comments i go crazy insane /pos
DIDN'T MEAN TO PUBLISH IT. SCREAMS. WHY IS THERE NO LIKE. "HEY AHAHA YOU SURE YOU WANNA PUBLISH THIS" ON MOBILE
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Dizzy. Dizzy. Hurt. Too bright. Too hot.
Michael made an exhausted and distressed noise- shrinking away from the heat and light.
Hurt. Hurt. So much hurt. Don't move, it hurts to move.
Another distressed noise- hissing as he covered his face with his hands.
Blocking out the light and lessening the heat was.. a little worth it.
Too much hurt. Not a skin hurt, a muscle hurt, a bone hurt. A deep pain that throbbed and pulsed and burned.
He heard footsteps, and they quickly stopped. There was no motivation that could make him endure the pain of any form of movement to see who, or what, it was.
"...You're awake."
Michael recognized that voice. He knew who it was, and he didn't know why he was there with them. It was the Archivist, and Michael was a little afraid, admittedly.
"...I suppose I am."
"So. Why are you here?" The Archivist said, tone stern and tense.
"I wouldn't know. I was injured and needed to get somewhere a bit safer, and it so happened that I ended up here."
"...Right."
The conversation came to a halt then. The silence was awkward and crushing, and while it felt like one should say something, neither knew what to say.
So, Jon, satisfied with his safety, hurried off to begin his day.
The creature couldn't take the searing warmth, seeping through his skin and into its flesh anymore- and so sat up- gasping with pain.
Hurthurthurt oh god it hurts- oh god-
Leaning against the couch- tears welling up in their eyes from the pain, they noted their wounds had been... bandanged? The wrappings were now beginning to stain with red, most likely bleeding again from movement.
After that, Michael noticed that he had been laying directly in a patch of sunlight- probably for an hour or so when he had awoken.
Now that the pain was subsiding, he examined his surroundings- it was nice- well kept, and with some interesting trinkets here and there. A few cat figurines, two mugs set on the hearth... one pale, white and blue, the other dark foresty green with soft brown highlights.
Michael had a feeling it was important.
Jon passed through the living room, looking at Michael.
"...You're up."
"Yes, I am."
"You shouldn't be. You'll aggravate your wounds. Look, the bandages are already soaked. I'll be back-"
As the other hurried off, Michael had another feeling. That they were both bad at regular conversation.
Jon quickly returned with bandages, hiding a knife in the couch cushions. A little twist of anxiety, and he'd grabbed it as a backup. He didn't think he'd have to use it, but...
Meanwhile, Michael wasn't sure what to do. He was too tired to move, and wasn't sure what Jon was going to do- that was, of course, until Jon started replacing the bandages Michael was wearing. Jon's brow was furrowed, and he was clearly trying very hard to make no mistakes.
When Jon finished, he stepped away and left, taking the knife with him. This time Michael saw it, and while it understood, it made it... a little sad.
Those feelings were quickly pushed away, however.
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ajaudufucygue NOW its done. short chapter this time. marto's gonna be a part of next chapter whoooo. creatures n people this is now a jonmichaelmartin story and you cant stop me
edit notes: uag idk how i didnt finish a whole sentence? adhd i guess -benrey
