[The next time they meet, John doesn't... he doesn't look very good. Where his face should be, there are cracks formed all along the edges of his middle-aged face. Inside, dark obsidian breaks through skin as patches of rainbow, holographic lights dance beneath him. As someone as self-consumed with how beautiful he looks and how perfect he is, something is definitively off about this. He looks horrifying. He's lost the bravado and subtle power play aura about him, and he sits at the end of the conference table, as they have in their meetings before.
A chess board is placed between the two of them, fully set up and ready to go. Whether or not this is a metaphor, it's hard to tell, but as in all things related to John, every single thing he does has a shroud of meaning to it.
He waves his hand over the board, inviting. His fingernails are darkened, the color is drained from him in every way, shape and form. He tries to muster a smile, cordial at best, but even that is terrifying to look at.
What she can suffice is that there's some level of suffering going on here, but John is too prideful, to filled with his sense of self-respect to admit that.]
Maya. Perfect timing. Would you mind playing a game with me? I promise, after we're done, it'll be the end. I won't bother you any longer.
[ this time, maya's prepared for him. she's expected it. and she clutches her scarf as she sees him, a reminder of the friends she's made and how all of this -- dying to him again, would be worth it, just to protect them. ]
[ she steels herself. but he's not the way she expected he would be. he's.... well. his face is i> cracked, and it's even worse than before. ]
... Are you okay?
[ she just kind of blurts it out, openly staring at him for a minute, his hands, then his face again. ]
Um.... I don't actually know how to play chess. Can we just improvise checkers instead?
[ if not she's going to steal all the horses mabel pines style ]
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cw: light body horror
A chess board is placed between the two of them, fully set up and ready to go. Whether or not this is a metaphor, it's hard to tell, but as in all things related to John, every single thing he does has a shroud of meaning to it.
He waves his hand over the board, inviting. His fingernails are darkened, the color is drained from him in every way, shape and form. He tries to muster a smile, cordial at best, but even that is terrifying to look at.
What she can suffice is that there's some level of suffering going on here, but John is too prideful, to filled with his sense of self-respect to admit that.]
Maya. Perfect timing. Would you mind playing a game with me? I promise, after we're done, it'll be the end. I won't bother you any longer.
no subject
[ she steels herself. but he's not the way she expected he would be. he's.... well. his face is i> cracked, and it's even worse than before. ]
... Are you okay?
[ she just kind of blurts it out, openly staring at him for a minute, his hands, then his face again. ]
Um.... I don't actually know how to play chess. Can we just improvise checkers instead?
[ if not she's going to steal all the horses mabel pines style ]