( Ben goes on like this for about a minute, one frightfully-long minute where his blood sings in a slow-arcing crescendo of adrenaline. he looks over his shoulder frequently, uncertain if this is even working for Will's side of things, and equally unable to know if Ben isn't attracting more trouble for himself by launching rubbish everywhere. he has no idea if this will yield anything — this could be the completely wrong bus, Will could not even be in this world, whatever it is... the knowledge of lurking shadows doesn't necessarily mean they're on the same plane of existence, at this rate. he still doesn't know what those are.
so Ben, the ever-logical thinker, puts a stop to the ruckus after what feels like long enough; with nothing else happening around this performance of awkward chaos, the span of time is rather short. he stands and scans his surroundings, soaking in the uneasy quiet that comes with this strange place as the metal and stone crashings echo in his ears. it's penetrating, like a scalpel cutting open with ease, the goliath sense of isolation in this world, emphasized greater by the quiet that stretches on for what distance can be seen, and undoubtedly further.
Ben finds for a brutally brief moment, for a particularly striking heartbeat, that he hopes that this ridiculous pocket of commotion he's just wrought does reach where Will is for a whole new reason: Ben wants some knowledge of...
a connection.
he steps up into the bus, knowing he will find it empty, and still disappointed to be proven right — not often that he feels that way about being correct, but here we are in topsy-turvy land.
Ben's steps feel boisterous in the bus interior, his feet snapping on the metal floor no matter how softly he goes, with tired creaks rumbling through the undercarriage under the weight of a visitor. he looks across the seats, stood upside down in their spots like vulnerable animals exposing their bellies, and they tell him nothing. he stares across the windows and sees one pane...unlike the rest of them.
he approaches the window pane and finds a different view — into some unknown place, and a view that is sideways, aimed at a doorway with stairs, stairs that seem to...spiral away as they angle upward...
Ben doesn't recognize it, and moreover, he doesn't see Will. his brow pinches in concern, a sense of dread swelling up like a bubble under his sternum. he can't know if the other man is all right at all—
but he catches something on the mirror pane. etched in roughly with a fine, sharp thing, making it almost unnoticeable at first, words: 'thank you.'
it's Will. Ben thinks it has to be.
Ben touches the jagged shapes of the letters in the glass, brushes the grit of the scrapings away. a connection, or some semblance of; it's something. it's something, in this expanse of utterly nothing.
he wanders back up to the front of the bus, dazed with some bittersweet relief, a gray-area between such polarizing feelings, loss and gain. the front of the bus features an awkward combination of a soundboard and medical machinery, but the steering wheel is in tact, and so is...
a radio.
Ben picks up the receiver, clicking the button on the side, but it warrants nothing for him. no sound, no light. he looks over the console and doesn't find a key, or any way to turn the engine on. he fusses with the radio a little more — clicks the button on the side three times. it helps tremendously. he wonders if it does anything at all...and if it does, in Will's side perhaps, is he still around to witness it?
soon enough, Ben decides to move on. this massive labyrinth holds more than he knows that he can conceive on his own; knowing that one person exists here somewhere tells Ben that there may be more people to find.
and if he's smart, persistent, he might be able to find this other man again, soon. )
HEY v-sauce, Michael here. where do people go, when they're deleted?
so Ben, the ever-logical thinker, puts a stop to the ruckus after what feels like long enough; with nothing else happening around this performance of awkward chaos, the span of time is rather short. he stands and scans his surroundings, soaking in the uneasy quiet that comes with this strange place as the metal and stone crashings echo in his ears. it's penetrating, like a scalpel cutting open with ease, the goliath sense of isolation in this world, emphasized greater by the quiet that stretches on for what distance can be seen, and undoubtedly further.
Ben finds for a brutally brief moment, for a particularly striking heartbeat, that he hopes that this ridiculous pocket of commotion he's just wrought does reach where Will is for a whole new reason: Ben wants some knowledge of...
a connection.
he steps up into the bus, knowing he will find it empty, and still disappointed to be proven right — not often that he feels that way about being correct, but here we are in topsy-turvy land.
Ben's steps feel boisterous in the bus interior, his feet snapping on the metal floor no matter how softly he goes, with tired creaks rumbling through the undercarriage under the weight of a visitor. he looks across the seats, stood upside down in their spots like vulnerable animals exposing their bellies, and they tell him nothing. he stares across the windows and sees one pane...unlike the rest of them.
he approaches the window pane and finds a different view — into some unknown place, and a view that is sideways, aimed at a doorway with stairs, stairs that seem to...spiral away as they angle upward...
Ben doesn't recognize it, and moreover, he doesn't see Will. his brow pinches in concern, a sense of dread swelling up like a bubble under his sternum. he can't know if the other man is all right at all—
but he catches something on the mirror pane. etched in roughly with a fine, sharp thing, making it almost unnoticeable at first, words: 'thank you.'
it's Will. Ben thinks it has to be.
Ben touches the jagged shapes of the letters in the glass, brushes the grit of the scrapings away. a connection, or some semblance of; it's something. it's something, in this expanse of utterly nothing.
he wanders back up to the front of the bus, dazed with some bittersweet relief, a gray-area between such polarizing feelings, loss and gain. the front of the bus features an awkward combination of a soundboard and medical machinery, but the steering wheel is in tact, and so is...
a radio.
Ben picks up the receiver, clicking the button on the side, but it warrants nothing for him. no sound, no light. he looks over the console and doesn't find a key, or any way to turn the engine on. he fusses with the radio a little more — clicks the button on the side three times. it helps tremendously. he wonders if it does anything at all...and if it does, in Will's side perhaps, is he still around to witness it?
soon enough, Ben decides to move on. this massive labyrinth holds more than he knows that he can conceive on his own; knowing that one person exists here somewhere tells Ben that there may be more people to find.
and if he's smart, persistent, he might be able to find this other man again, soon. )