Jim Moriarty (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rippedtheskyapart) wrote2012-02-06 05:11 pm
rippedtheskyapart) wrote2012-02-06 05:11 pm
(no subject)
The front door of Milliways opens and a naked man walks through it.
His hair is swept back tidily, his skin fresh and clean and smooth except for a number of scars—varyingly old and varyingly interesting. Almost before he's cleared the threshold, he stops, looking around in a brief, brief moment of total confusion.
Halfway through spinning back around toward the (now closed) Door, he silently explodes into a cloud of fine grey dust.
His hair is swept back tidily, his skin fresh and clean and smooth except for a number of scars—varyingly old and varyingly interesting. Almost before he's cleared the threshold, he stops, looking around in a brief, brief moment of total confusion.
Halfway through spinning back around toward the (now closed) Door, he silently explodes into a cloud of fine grey dust.
no subject
His hand lifts away from his arm—detaches entirely, suspended at the end of a smooth linkage of blood flowing through the air between the cleanly severed ends of veins and arteries. He wiggles his fingers in a cheery wave. The appendage snaps back into place.
"I can do tricks," he chirps.