Patient 001 - Michael (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
touchofdeath) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
backyardbbq2017-05-17 10:28 pm
touchofdeath) wrote in backyardbbq2017-05-17 10:28 pm
PSL: shit let's be mountain men
[See, when Michael decided to move to a secluded mountainside home forever ago, he did that because it was, well, secluded. He had a hard time getting along with people, partially because of the whole 'stealing lifeforce with a single touch' thing, but also because he had a rather high opinion of himself and thought he was always right. Even if he did end up being right most of the time, people tended not to like his cockiness.
Ah well. He'd accidentally taken enough years of life to outlive anyone he pissed off, so he wasn't too concerned with that. If people got offended, they got offended. He would just limit his interactions with people to the once a season, 'stop by for supplies and then go home' kind of deal. It had worked for over three hundred years by that point, and he didn't plan on changing his routine.
Or well, he wouldn't have, if the war hadn't happened.
Michael didn't really keep track of politics or country boundaries. He spoke enough languages to get by, and he never had any trouble buying supplies, and that was enough for him. His little patch of land in an evergreen forest in the middle of nowhere was remote enough that nobody ever came across it. Even now, when that one country- Germany, he thought, that sounded like the right name- started taking over other countries, the military never really came marching through his garden. This land had no strategic value, which was exactly why Michael had picked it to make his home on.
But with the invention of airplanes, suddenly his peaceful mountainside life was interrupted by loud buzzing overhead. Whereas there was no foot path through the mountains, it was very easy to just fly over them, and fly over them people did. The noise was so annoying that Michael just silently willed the war to end itself, just as every other war had done in the past. Humans fought over stupid shit all the time, but eventually the fighting always stopped. This time would be no different.
Then one afternoon, the buzzing turned louder, and then it became a horrible crunching noise. Michael bundled up quickly, making sure to cover up against the harsh winter winds, and went to investigate.
Yep, that was a plane crash. Whoever had been flying it had flown too close to the trees and just sank into them, tearing a harsh, straight line through the forest. The plane itself was mostly intact, but it was on fire, and cargo was strewn all about. And judging by the lack of screaming, everyone inside had died. Maybe. But Michael decided to investigate further, just in case some lucky soul had survived.]
HEY! If there's anyone still alive in that thing, give me a sign!
[Because like hell is he going into a burning plane if there's no survivors in there.]
Ah well. He'd accidentally taken enough years of life to outlive anyone he pissed off, so he wasn't too concerned with that. If people got offended, they got offended. He would just limit his interactions with people to the once a season, 'stop by for supplies and then go home' kind of deal. It had worked for over three hundred years by that point, and he didn't plan on changing his routine.
Or well, he wouldn't have, if the war hadn't happened.
Michael didn't really keep track of politics or country boundaries. He spoke enough languages to get by, and he never had any trouble buying supplies, and that was enough for him. His little patch of land in an evergreen forest in the middle of nowhere was remote enough that nobody ever came across it. Even now, when that one country- Germany, he thought, that sounded like the right name- started taking over other countries, the military never really came marching through his garden. This land had no strategic value, which was exactly why Michael had picked it to make his home on.
But with the invention of airplanes, suddenly his peaceful mountainside life was interrupted by loud buzzing overhead. Whereas there was no foot path through the mountains, it was very easy to just fly over them, and fly over them people did. The noise was so annoying that Michael just silently willed the war to end itself, just as every other war had done in the past. Humans fought over stupid shit all the time, but eventually the fighting always stopped. This time would be no different.
Then one afternoon, the buzzing turned louder, and then it became a horrible crunching noise. Michael bundled up quickly, making sure to cover up against the harsh winter winds, and went to investigate.
Yep, that was a plane crash. Whoever had been flying it had flown too close to the trees and just sank into them, tearing a harsh, straight line through the forest. The plane itself was mostly intact, but it was on fire, and cargo was strewn all about. And judging by the lack of screaming, everyone inside had died. Maybe. But Michael decided to investigate further, just in case some lucky soul had survived.]
HEY! If there's anyone still alive in that thing, give me a sign!
[Because like hell is he going into a burning plane if there's no survivors in there.]