| RyanxShane | Date: Friday, 2011/06/10, 11:08 PM | Message # 1 |
 Survivor of the Failing Breed
Group: EWA Roster
Messages: 63
Status: Offline
| The feed of the footage begins to roll at the que of roaring thunder. Rain charges in a war cry toward the side of the Marriott, standing tall in the city that never sleeps. Street lights are lost in the sheer height of the building, the shadows casted deep and dark upon the walls we find ourselves enclosed in, making sight all but a hope except for the window opposite of the camera's location. A flash of lightning licks the weeping sky, sending a surge of light through the openess and granting us sight for a brief second. The overload makes seeing basic colors difficult, greens and tans now reduced to a sickely white or gray hue. A simple stand of cheap wood design sat next to the wall on the left of our view, atop that a black television set, long deactivated. A small table with two chairs on either side sat back in the corner, just before the opened curtains. Finally, a King-sized bed was pushed to the right wall, a dark blanket placed over the top. This bed follows the theme of the room: Dark colors, dulled senses, and above all else, emptiness...........well, almost. The theme continues into the man who lays inside the bed. At the second flash of energy, we clearly see the upper-body of Ryan Shane peeking from under the blankets.
The shimmer of Ryan's eyes indicate that he is indeed wide awake, and he had been for hours. His tattooed arms slumped down at his side as he gazed up to the ceiling, unblinking. He bore through the ceiling with his eyes as if the answers to the questions upon questions he had were just beyond the roof. A steady pace was his every breath, his chest expanding being the only actual movement that he made. Finally, after passing minutes and three more strikes of lightning, Ryan's eyes dropped, his head arching to his left, the other half of his bed with the expression of concern. He had hoped whoever else was there would be able to supply him with answers. At the finish, he froze, eyes lowering down in disappoiment as he sees the flattened cloth, emptiness being his sleeping companion. With a quiet sigh he lays straight again, locked back on the ceiling overhead.
A rumble of thunder passes, and soon the form of Shane is disturbed as again as he sits up, slouching over just slightly. He runs both of his hands over his face, blood shot eyes looking over the fingertips at the television. He fights himself over something that weighs heavy on his mind, bringing his hands back up and over his hair, pushing it back and out of his face. He throws the blanket off of him in one quick swoop, exposing the black boxer shorts he wore, as well as the partially tattooed shins and calves of his legs. He hops to the floor, walking at a slow pace to the nook that was the bathroom section of his suite and flicking the light switch. A blast of light smacks him in the face from the large lightbulbs surrounding the mirror with enough force to drive him back and bring an arm up in defense.
Ryan musters up enough strength to fight back, a squinting march to the counter top his choice of action. He turns the knob to allow cold water to stream down, cupping his hands underneath it. When enough of the cool liquid is collected, he splashes it over his face, trails rolling down his cheeks and over his chest. He drops his hands to the counter again, tilting his head up into a staredown against his reflection. Further and further he seeps into his own eyes, finalized with a long, drawn out breath and a nod. He reaches an agreement in his self-conscious, and response with only a single remark.
"Damn it........I need to know."
With this, Ryan breaks off the introspective starring contest, turning back to the lightswitch which he flicks with a nonchalante finger movement, plunging the room back into darkness. As the storm in his heart settles, so does the storm outside, bringing out video piece to a close.
Message edited by RyanxShane - Friday, 2011/06/10, 11:37 PM |
| |
| |
