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...tick ....
'Which is worse?' he wondered. Being hung in the darkness unable to measure the passage of time, or being forcibly, audibly reminded of it?
...tick ...
He tried to ignore it. But the sound burrowed into his brain, compelling him to count seconds passing.
...ticktick ...
He ruminated on the clock's poor time keeping, its faintly metallic sound and the dampness of his shirt, before he realised it was the sound of his own blood, spilling across the metal floor of his cell.
His blood, counting the passage of time, until Death came for him.
Or Napoleon did.
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Date: 2016-03-30 06:47 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2016-03-30 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-01 06:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-01 09:18 pm (UTC)http://archiveofourown.org/works/306171
Nothingeverlost also goes by Wiccagirl
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Date: 2016-03-31 04:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-01 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-01 02:41 am (UTC)You had me hanging as well. Thank you for being a part of Section VII.
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Date: 2016-04-01 06:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-01 11:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-02 09:04 am (UTC)