The mind's take on locked-in syndrome

[have_your_lives]

[It wasn't as though Schuldig expected anything good for Christmas. For one, it's Mayfield; anyone with the barest flicker of intelligence (which would be to say, Ken) could recognize the town's pattern for making life miserable. For another, even if the real Santa had come to visit the town, 'naughty' isn't even near a strong enough word for him. And, finally, he's had years of miserable Christmases, often where the holiday went completely unacknowledged because he was in places that couldn't care less about holidays; experience alone has taught him not to expect differently.

But Mayfield deserves credit where credit is due - this is, without a doubt, the most horrible Christmas in his entire life.

Even before he'd reached the end of his Christmas letter, he'd known he was in trouble. But he hadn't realized just how badly until he reached the last word, and all sound stopped.

All sound.

His ears echo with the silence; telepathically, his mind rings with the emptiness. Every connection he has to the rest of the world has been severed, so abruptly that he has no chance to adjust, no chance to anticipate or cope. It was bad enough when he was restricted to hearing with just his ears when he first arrived in Mayfield, but now he is utterly, completely alone with himself.

And when he tries to scream, he can't make a sound; not that he could hear it either way. He exchanged his voice for the telepathy that's now been ripped away from him.

He can't actually hear the bomb that's ticking away in his stomach, but in his current state, he'd actually consider death a relief. Others may be able to pick up on it, of course...

Housemates can find a shell-shocked Schuldig downstairs by his letter; otherwise, he'll probably be making his way to Nagi's house. Obviously, he's got no other way to communicate with his teammate now. Anyone trying to talk to him will have a very hard time communicating, since he can't hear you and he can't talk back, but you're welcome to try...also, he has his gun in his hand. Surprising him might not be the wisest course.]

Comments

[rulethegame.livejournal.com]

[He makes an amused sound at Schuldig following him, not that the guy can hear it, and emerges with a notepad and a pen, scribbling something down before passing it to him.]

Other than taking your telepathy and your hearing, did they do anything else to you?

[have-your-lives.livejournal.com]

[This much Schuldig can answer with just a shrug. There's nothing else he's noticed, anyway...though if you're quiet enough, Joshua, you can hear the ticking.]

[rulethegame.livejournal.com]

[He can, actually, and it prompts his next question.]

What, exactly, did you ask for? There's a ticking sound coming from your body.

[have-your-lives.livejournal.com]

[Schuldig pauses briefly, then borrows the pen and scribbles a list on the page.]

Guns
My voice
Quiet
Explosives

[He glances up at Joshua, then underlines 'quiet'. And then he circles 'explosives', and adds a question mark after it.]

[rulethegame.livejournal.com]

[His shoulders tense at that revelation, and he gives a slow nod, calculating quickly whether his telekinesis would be able to shield him from a sudden blast. Still, running away now would be quite a blow to his dignity.]

Probably. [A pause, before he smirks.] Don't suppose you fancy a trip to the City Hall?

[have-your-lives.livejournal.com]

[Schuldig cocks a sardonic eyebrow as he scribbles a question.] Somewhere conveniently far away, you mean?

I need to talk to Nagi first...and I already had a target in mind.

[rulethegame.livejournal.com]

And miss the show? Never.

Oh? The church, I assume? Regifting's rather tacky, you know.

[have-your-lives.livejournal.com]

I wasn't planning to be center stage for it, but...

Yes, the church. It was going to be Farfarello's Christmas present. He's gone now, but he'll still appreciate the gesture.

Also, 'tacky'? Have you observed the way I dress? Have you seen your couch?