IC Inbox II

[rattlingthestars]

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'S Jim. Leave a message.

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@jphawkins, text

[rattlingthestars]

[ Jim's eyes burst half an hour ago. He can still feel the phantom sensation of it, around the gaping pits where they once where.

He can feel something dripping down his cheeks, still, and knows if it were blood he would be dead right now. He doesn't want to think about what it could be instead.

The message he plays over and over again, even when it hurts his ears, even when he feels almost too sluggish to hit play.

He wants to respond, but he doesn't want to be seen and doesn't trust himself to speak. ]

Goodnight, Sunshine.

[swatsflies]

[ He sees the text. He can feel something in him leaping at the contact. A part of him wants to continue it, to keep Jim talking to him.

He's also dreading the use of text. It means he can't talk or doesn't really want to talk, right?

Sighing as he asks his animal companions there thoughts, but eventually he lets it go. He'll try again tomorrow. ]