[The thing is, one small detail that shouldn't pierce through the haze so much but does, is that Beau has never called him Bren. Not once. All of them have known his name for a long time now, but they do not call him that. He's long since stopped thinking of that as his name, who he is. Even if Caleb is a pseudonym, Caleb has people who love him, and Bren is nothing more than a curse for an old man to spit at him to force him to remember life before that.
She could be under some kind of curse. Maybe. A strange curse, because if she wanted to hurt him, she doesn't need the mic to do it, to charge up any sort of magic, and instead she's just talking at him, saying things that claw at his insides but that he's confident enough in now she doesn't believe. None of them believe that. They all know what he's done and they still care for him, and it is disgusting to twist it this way.
Disgusting, doesn't deserve to continue to exist. He pulls that mic out of his pocket, somehow feeling as though he understands what he's supposed to do with this little toy. Because Beauregard wants to fight him using magic instead of fists.
And he's just going to shout into it.]
Fuck off.
[A ragged pant of breath while he sees if it did anything, but he still goes on - ]
Fuck off. You're speaking nonsense and lies, you know nothing, your little game is tiring me. Get out of my head, get out of my friend. Dissolve into ashes and choke on them.
[ caleb did such a beautiful job of describing his hypnosis microphone that it works beautifully. the mouth of the frumpkin shaped attachment opens as he speaks - amber sparks shoot of of the sides of the microphone, and the flames on the side seem to heat up warm under caleb's hand as he speaks. fuck off makes the mic spark brilliantly bright, once, the heat like a flash in a pan, and then as he keeps going, the metal warms and warms and warms. and then as he reaches dissolve into ashes and choke on them, all of the sound in the area seems to disappear, like it's in a vacuum, and everything freezes for one perfect, crystalline moment --
the air before a lightning strike brings to focus the crowd around them. the members of the crowd's faces turn to red hair and fear and terror, until every face left is caleb's parents, staring
and beau, who stands in the middle. she looks at caleb for a millisecond, just long enough for all of the black to melt out of her eyes. just long enough for expression to contort into utter, complete fear.
-- and then there's an explosion of flames that rip out of the microphone. they tear through the scenery like paper and roar through beau, through the crowd, as everything in a mile radius is incinerated in a matter of a second.
and as the light from the explosion fades, caleb gets one last final glance of what's left of the street he was standing on --
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She could be under some kind of curse. Maybe. A strange curse, because if she wanted to hurt him, she doesn't need the mic to do it, to charge up any sort of magic, and instead she's just talking at him, saying things that claw at his insides but that he's confident enough in now she doesn't believe. None of them believe that. They all know what he's done and they still care for him, and it is disgusting to twist it this way.
Disgusting, doesn't deserve to continue to exist. He pulls that mic out of his pocket, somehow feeling as though he understands what he's supposed to do with this little toy. Because Beauregard wants to fight him using magic instead of fists.
And he's just going to shout into it.]
Fuck off.
[A ragged pant of breath while he sees if it did anything, but he still goes on - ]
Fuck off. You're speaking nonsense and lies, you know nothing, your little game is tiring me. Get out of my head, get out of my friend. Dissolve into ashes and choke on them.
no subject
the air before a lightning strike brings to focus the crowd around them. the members of the crowd's faces turn to red hair and fear and terror, until every face left is caleb's parents, staring
and beau, who stands in the middle. she looks at caleb for a millisecond, just long enough for all of the black to melt out of her eyes. just long enough for expression to contort into utter, complete fear.
-- and then there's an explosion of flames that rip out of the microphone. they tear through the scenery like paper and roar through beau, through the crowd, as everything in a mile radius is incinerated in a matter of a second.
and as the light from the explosion fades, caleb gets one last final glance of what's left of the street he was standing on --
ashes.
there's nothing left but ashes.
the next time he blinks, he'll find himself standing somewhere else entirely. ]