when the dead come a'walking;; Thea.

[WH [the goat]*]

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OUT OF CHARACTER NOTES
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When the dead come a walking; Thread reserved for Thea, played by Mercy. Set in before Doubt goes in the labs. Thread written in Doubt’s alter personality. Words before post and paragraphs were written by WH (me).

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THOSE DARK, DARK CLOUDS
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Voices. There are many, varying, differing in tone and emotion. There is the voice that quivers when you’re sad, when you’re trembling and you just don’t understand. There’s the voice that’s faster than usual, that voice when you may want to get things done, or have other things in mind, if not those, then you’re probably lying or just have too much energy. There’s that strong, demanding voice where you’re either overly smug, an idiot or you are of high rank. And you can go on and on, because a voice is your personality, and you cannot deny it. Or you could just be acting, trying to be what you’re not, and how good are you? Do you worry too much, do you glance wearily, do you sugar coat it, are you pathetic or are you the best? If you get a good result, that’s all that matters, if you get what you want, that is what matters. Then, there is the voice of the screams, where every one is different, and if you have the time and you hear enough of them, then you can categorize them. Either that, or you don’t have much of a life being the reason why you pay attention to screams in such ways.

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HOVERING IN THAT SAD GRAY SKY
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Looking out upon the ruins of the forest, the sky grey and depressing, ironically fitting the whole scene, he smiled. Everyone and everything has that perpetual beauty, which makes it unique, maybe not always pleasing to look at, yet it made things interesting. Now, as the smaller than average dark brown German shepherd trotted up towards the trees, he marvelled at them. The trees remaining stood up, leafless branches stretching like they were trying to grasp, desperately, the last fringes of life. But of course, that was in vain. The bark burnt, almost black, and yet some of the standing trees stood a misty grey, and some did indeed have the brown left upon them. However, ashes covered the ground, creating a dusty surface, the grass a menacing grey. Fragments of trees, like scattered guts, covered the ground in areas, hidden beneath the ashes they were. Weaving through the trees, the nameless Dutch German shepherd walked, an odd grace in his steps, an intelligence in his eyes, and yet most of all, sadistic signals coming from his predatory movements. And a not so smug smile planted upon his face, it was a smile of odd irony. His fur stood black in the morning light.

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AND WHERE’S THAT SUN?
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Even through the fire was long over, the tensions still hung in the atmosphere, and the smell of burning still sizzled the air. It was a thick feeling, even a dog without as much perception as he would feel it; it was thick with the emotions and fears of those who lived here. Of those whom desperately fought for their life, and whom some had lived, some had choked and some had died from their burns. It was cold, and silent, lifeless, yet in turn it felt as if all the activity of the day the forest was burned still was happening, playing over and over again, repeating and repeating. It happened months ago, yet it still remained. This fire had a huge impact on the way of the lives of everything, and it was barely starting to be really noticed. He felt sorry for it, really, the invisible dog had nothing against nature, and he knew, he just felt, that this wasn’t a natural forest fire. It wasn’t nature that he wanted to kill, rip apart, it was, indeed, the dogs in it. Even through the canines had been created by nature, he seen that their emotion driven qualities and all their dramatic actions threw him off. He was one of them, but most wouldn’t know, that he felt superior to all dogs, and he had a lust for importance unlike any other.

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HIDING BEHIND THOSE OLD GRAY CLOUDS
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Unlike most serial killer types, he was far from your standard; he seemed to be a good guy, his voice clam, and rather gentleman like. He had a diplomatic air around him, even though he’s a sociopath and a mix of psychopath. He was also so very casual, but in his opinion acting like that was growing a little over used lately, and he wanted for a serial killer whom was very emotion driven to show up. But that wasn’t happening, maybe him, as a superb actor he is, could attempt that. He figured that would be fun. And another thing about him is that it’s hard to see him coming. He doesn’t do most of the killing, he’s the type to push others to doing things, and he’s good at it. He had the ability to fool pretty much anyone, and tempt others into doing things for him. He didn’t have an uncontrollable lust for blood, nor did he really have so much at all, he chose his way of life – on the most part. If one could call it much of a life, because he didn’t chose to be in the head of this dog, Doubt, and that one thing in the world that really truly bothered him, but he lived with it. That was no choice of his.

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THAT DAMN OLD SUN HAS A GRIN
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But he was so going to gain what’s rightfully his. With his theories, that quality is shared with Doubt as well, that sound pretty possible, he had devised a plan for getting what he wants. Going to the labs. With all this word about the stuff they use on dogs, rewiring their brain, adjusting the chemicals and becoming blood lusting, dragging the evil side of one out. So, who said it wouldn’t make him get in control? It would be easy to push the buttons; he’d already tested that, playing with Doubt’s head. It could also get rid of him, but he viewed that as highly unlikely. Doubt had had him for five years; this invisible dog has developed to a very strong point, nearly with his own complete mind. But his visits to the real world mostly were short lived, but during the past year he’d worked on making such rise. It was sadly easy, but at least he was getting things done. This time around he had a goal to be able to stay ‘awake’ –as he called it- for at least ten hours. Only a half of hour had passed, so he had a long way.

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BUT IT JUST DOESN’T GET IT
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And so, there he was, sightseeing. He had heard of this place falling down, and as a good little monster, he wanted to see it for himself. No, he did not suspect any joy from it; no he did not suspect these feeble moments to mean anything. But he was feeling a little bit of all of those things. Odd as it was and all, but he knew this place would heal. Like a wound, like the wound on his back leg, it would heal. Maybe not as thoroughly, maybe not so much to its former glory, and it would take years and years, but it would be fixed. Most that live after the forest healed would not even know what caused it. But he did, and he wished, in a twisted sort of way, but not too much unlike him at all, was jealous of whoever started it. This had a impact, and most likely spread to the wolves, and all he was doing was sightseeing, viewing it, and not doing much at all at the moment.

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THOSE CLOUDS WILL FORSAKEN THAT SUN
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He begun to whistle, it was melodic and unpredictable in what sound it was to be wrapped into. The sound echoed throughout the silent forest, breaking quiet throughout the place for a few meagre moments and then it stopped. Enough for anyone to catch wind of him, he supposed, for even the beauty of the place would fade over time. After green grasses, this was what it faded into, and it proved how easily something could turn out to be the other. How easy things can make one think they are what they aren’t. How easily manipulated many are. For, he was one who viewed it all as one big and high stakes game that there is no game over, just you die if you get killed. And this game is impossible to beat, but it isn’t impossible to make things all different, to get the highest score. And this level of the game was just beginning to unfold, and he was ready to embrace it, laugh and then spit in its face and go on for more. And yes, he did take the whole world as some kind of joke, rather cruel one, but in a way he took the world as some plaything for those who noticed it. And those whom would not deny it, because too much things are denied these days and too little accepted.

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LET’S SEE WHO’S SMILING IN THE END
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Stepping upon a fallen tree, it creaked, rather unstable, yet he acted as if it was the most normal thing to be walking on an unbalanced tree. “Honey, the world is unstable.” He said out loud, as always casual and with much truth behind the tone. He wasn’t expecting anyone to hear it; it was just that the silence had started getting to him. But he did say it like he was actually talking to someone. It was like being trapped all over again, and yet he didn’t show it, but he didn’t like silence, being trapped or anything along with that. That was just the way he was. He came upon it, and laid down, seeming to ignore the sound it made, while he actually enjoyed hearing something besides his thoughts and voice.

[WH [the goat]*]

Say, this thread is dead.