Room 307, Friday Afternoon

[dollpocalypse]

Okay, it was official. Fandom hated him. Not only was Topher's face now a mess of bruises and the occasional nosebleed, but it was also gray. As in fully, entirely gray. And his eyes? Black. His whole body was sore, up to and including the part on his lower back where there was now a tail beginning to grow, and worst of all, his hands (or more accurately, claws) were now fully incapable of typing.

DAMN IT, FANDOM.

Frustrated, Topher kicked at the bottom of his bed. When he didn't immediately feel the usual pain that came from hitting or kicking just about anything, he kicked it again and again, hurling his feet at the bed frame until a long, jagged crack appeared in the smooth wood.

That was... oddly satisfying.

Suddenly, thoughts of science or staying in the room -- which had grown fainter and fainter over the past few days -- were gone. He had anger and cruelty inside of him, and he wanted to do something.

Something... outside. The deer didn't seem so scary anymore. He was just as powerful as they were.

[[Open door for before he runs outside, but mainly establishy!]]

Comments

After Topher leaves

[iwishiwasbig.livejournal.com]

Once Topher was done kicking stuff and left, Dave rolled out from under his own bed. It felt good to be out from under there, but not nearly as good as it felt to have whatever Topher had become out of the place.

"I told him not to play with the rock," Dave said to the empty room. Then he closed the door and locked the hell out of it.