( 'weird guy' is probably an apt description, probably not as catchy enough for a modern pop song. duh.
but seriously, how weird does mildly weird really look against this entire Escher junkyard? really now, Ben can't really be that strange, here... except that in his tweed blazer and knotted tie, looking mundane is probably the weirdest thing one can find in a place like this, where shadow-shapes exist freely across the landscape apparently.
the tension is palpable until something shatters Ben's desperately pin-pointed attention — a sound, no, words. in clear confusion, Ben's movements are jagged as he looks, right before left, until he catches sight of...a teenaged girl, crouched low behind nondescript rubbish. surprise precedes offense. )
Mind your language—
( a commotion shatters the air somewhere beyond a dead shrub circled in a concrete trim. it startles Ben more than it does anything else...but the sort-of-human-shaped shroud slowly turns to look in the direction of the sound. the delayed reaction is really noteworthy, an intriguing phenomenon...
or it would be, if Ben didn't care about anything else in the world, but at this moment, he's bolting out into the first direction his eyes land on. he makes it around the side of a defunct and upturned soda dispenser, grasping onto it as he makes himself scarce while the shadow-thing takes a slow step around in its new direction of choice.
with stressful breaths, Ben watches keenly, wanting to make damn sure of where that thing is headed, before he cranes his neck to see where that girl is hiding. she mustn't be far — ah, there, he sees her and they make eye contact. he nods at her, a silent 'thanks'—
and then, Ben's eyes go comically round. his hand flies up, fingers all curled but one: an index finger, directed at her. at her? or...behind her? )
no subject
but seriously, how weird does mildly weird really look against this entire Escher junkyard? really now, Ben can't really be that strange, here... except that in his tweed blazer and knotted tie, looking mundane is probably the weirdest thing one can find in a place like this, where shadow-shapes exist freely across the landscape apparently.
the tension is palpable until something shatters Ben's desperately pin-pointed attention — a sound, no, words. in clear confusion, Ben's movements are jagged as he looks, right before left, until he catches sight of...a teenaged girl, crouched low behind nondescript rubbish. surprise precedes offense. )
Mind your language—
( a commotion shatters the air somewhere beyond a dead shrub circled in a concrete trim. it startles Ben more than it does anything else...but the sort-of-human-shaped shroud slowly turns to look in the direction of the sound. the delayed reaction is really noteworthy, an intriguing phenomenon...
or it would be, if Ben didn't care about anything else in the world, but at this moment, he's bolting out into the first direction his eyes land on. he makes it around the side of a defunct and upturned soda dispenser, grasping onto it as he makes himself scarce while the shadow-thing takes a slow step around in its new direction of choice.
with stressful breaths, Ben watches keenly, wanting to make damn sure of where that thing is headed, before he cranes his neck to see where that girl is hiding. she mustn't be far — ah, there, he sees her and they make eye contact. he nods at her, a silent 'thanks'—
and then, Ben's eyes go comically round. his hand flies up, fingers all curled but one: an index finger, directed at her. at her? or...behind her? )