08-22-2018, 05:06 PM
[please wait for [member=1309]hamlet[/member] to post]
On paper, the idea of resurrecting his husband had sounded like a good one. He’d spent hours daydreaming about him, making up little fantasies in his head about how everything would go back to normal. However, raising someone from the dead proved to be a lot… different than what he had expected. He had been thinking that he’d have to draw some satanic seal with his own blood, light some candles, and put that dead tourist’s body to good use, but that hadn’t been the case.
That supposed human sacrifice hadn’t actually been necessary. The angel doesn’t need anything fancy, just some duct tape and Elmer’s glue. Zachariah is mildly distraught that he had killed another man all for nothing, but it is outweighed by his excitement. He feels like a child on Christmas morning, in some morbid way. He’s almost giddy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he walks, two trash bags worth of limbs and duct tape in tow.
He doesn’t want to draw too much attention to himself. There’s only so many places he can lug around trash bags shaped vaguely like piles of human limbs. He would have done this later at night, too, however in San Creado it seems there’s only a small window of time where things get quiet. He assumes that the vampires and whatnot will all emerge at night, and the tourists will start to pack up and head home around dusk, so that’s when he chooses to strike. He travels down a relatively empty street, wandering far to the outskirts of the town, where only a few people are roaming about.
There’s an alleyway up ahead, where several residents have chosen to abandon their furniture. Perfect. He is undisturbed, though the few passersby that happen to witness him certainly give him strange looks.
The angel isn't known for her quality work. Zachariah fears she may glue a hand to to an ankle or pop his eyes in the wrong way. She assures him, taking over his body unceremoniously, that she won’t mess this up, but he’s got a bad feeling about this. Her eagerness to bring Samsa back is suspicious, especially given the fact that she had been the one to murder him. Zachariah chooses to ignore it. He’ll risk anything just to bring his husband back.
When the deed is finally done, Samsa’s body looks like a joke, quite literally held together with tape. Zachariah thinks that he’s been played, and that this is as good as it gets. He doesn’t know whether or not to feel angry or sad.
Then there’s a flash of light, one that shoots straight up into the sky, and suddenly, Zachariah feels like crying. There is his husband, looking as good as new. Sure, there are scars in place of duct tape and glue, and a distinctive seal carved into his stomach, but he’s in one piece again.
No tears will come out, no matter how hard he tries, but Zach still shakes the same. He whimpers when he clings to him. He buries his face into Samsa’s bony chest just to listen to his heart beat, to listen to him breathe, just to touch him. This is better than any dream he’s had. The angel is oddly quiet. She has no smart remarks to offer, not a single sneer to be heard. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she’s happy for him.
He only gets up to clothe him. Zachariah is afraid to take his hands off his body, fearing he might disappear if he does. Samsa should wake up any minute now. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say or how he’s going to explain why they’re currently in some dark, dingy alleyway. He just cradles Samsa’s face in his hands and quietly calls his name.
”Hilbert….” No response. At least he’s still breathing. ”Sam? Sammy? Hey. Hilbert.” He’s not waking up. It’s been more than a minute. Zachariah is starting to panic. Did he do something wrong? Did the angel miss a step? ”...Sam, come on, get up.”
On paper, the idea of resurrecting his husband had sounded like a good one. He’d spent hours daydreaming about him, making up little fantasies in his head about how everything would go back to normal. However, raising someone from the dead proved to be a lot… different than what he had expected. He had been thinking that he’d have to draw some satanic seal with his own blood, light some candles, and put that dead tourist’s body to good use, but that hadn’t been the case.
That supposed human sacrifice hadn’t actually been necessary. The angel doesn’t need anything fancy, just some duct tape and Elmer’s glue. Zachariah is mildly distraught that he had killed another man all for nothing, but it is outweighed by his excitement. He feels like a child on Christmas morning, in some morbid way. He’s almost giddy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he walks, two trash bags worth of limbs and duct tape in tow.
He doesn’t want to draw too much attention to himself. There’s only so many places he can lug around trash bags shaped vaguely like piles of human limbs. He would have done this later at night, too, however in San Creado it seems there’s only a small window of time where things get quiet. He assumes that the vampires and whatnot will all emerge at night, and the tourists will start to pack up and head home around dusk, so that’s when he chooses to strike. He travels down a relatively empty street, wandering far to the outskirts of the town, where only a few people are roaming about.
There’s an alleyway up ahead, where several residents have chosen to abandon their furniture. Perfect. He is undisturbed, though the few passersby that happen to witness him certainly give him strange looks.
The angel isn't known for her quality work. Zachariah fears she may glue a hand to to an ankle or pop his eyes in the wrong way. She assures him, taking over his body unceremoniously, that she won’t mess this up, but he’s got a bad feeling about this. Her eagerness to bring Samsa back is suspicious, especially given the fact that she had been the one to murder him. Zachariah chooses to ignore it. He’ll risk anything just to bring his husband back.
When the deed is finally done, Samsa’s body looks like a joke, quite literally held together with tape. Zachariah thinks that he’s been played, and that this is as good as it gets. He doesn’t know whether or not to feel angry or sad.
Then there’s a flash of light, one that shoots straight up into the sky, and suddenly, Zachariah feels like crying. There is his husband, looking as good as new. Sure, there are scars in place of duct tape and glue, and a distinctive seal carved into his stomach, but he’s in one piece again.
No tears will come out, no matter how hard he tries, but Zach still shakes the same. He whimpers when he clings to him. He buries his face into Samsa’s bony chest just to listen to his heart beat, to listen to him breathe, just to touch him. This is better than any dream he’s had. The angel is oddly quiet. She has no smart remarks to offer, not a single sneer to be heard. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she’s happy for him.
He only gets up to clothe him. Zachariah is afraid to take his hands off his body, fearing he might disappear if he does. Samsa should wake up any minute now. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say or how he’s going to explain why they’re currently in some dark, dingy alleyway. He just cradles Samsa’s face in his hands and quietly calls his name.
”Hilbert….” No response. At least he’s still breathing. ”Sam? Sammy? Hey. Hilbert.” He’s not waking up. It’s been more than a minute. Zachariah is starting to panic. Did he do something wrong? Did the angel miss a step? ”...Sam, come on, get up.”
[align=center]characters + 16 + he/him