While Quentin didn’t enjoy being in any trial, he especially hated it when there was a hex totem active. It was just more time wasted wandering around the map, and therefore more time for the killer to find their victims. Sometimes, Quentin thought it best to just deal with the malfunctioning generators, but he tended to doze off more easily if it took too long. Thus, he would sometimes be the one hunting the grounds for the hex totem while everyone else worked on the generators.
A brow was arched upon hearing Kate speak, and soon a grin took shape on his lips while he looked at her from over the generator. “Little skull guys,” he repeated after her, a soft chuckle following. She meant the hex totems, but he didn’t bother correcting her. He understood what she meant. Getting to his feet, Quentin’s eyes scanned the vast area around them for any signs of the killer. It was hard to see through the thick blanket of fog that cloaked the ground, which was beneficial to the survivors, but no so much the killer. (unless, of course, they were dealing with someone like Michael or Amanda) Apart from the sound of the generator, which was barely even working, it was quiet. At least for now.
Turning away from the generator, Quentin began making his way through the trees and tall grass, ducking low to better give him cover. He wasn’t sure where to begin looking, but he’d found them in some pretty sneaky locations before. They weren’t too hard to spot with how brightly they glowed and stood out from all the other totems. “Are you as sick of the little skull guys as I am?” He asked, his voice just barely a whisper to avoid alerting the killer in case they were near. He wasn’t even sure who was lurking around yet, and the silence kept him feeling on edge.
“God, yeah. They’re so annoying... like, as if we don’t get our asses handed to us enough already. It’s like being asked to work overtime at the end of your shift, y’know?” she says in hushed irritation, as if the prospect of having to snag her nails on dismantling a cursed fetish in order to survive was a begrudgingly accepted inconvenience. Their casual and somewhat careless conversation isn’t overshadowed by their careful demeanor, her footsteps treading on the grass with a subdued rustle. Fear is a far-off inevitability when she starts trials at someone else’s side, and Quentin’s simple question encourages her to help navigate their path with a well-worn ease.
Her stare scans each shrouded corner they pass, eyes prying for that indicative glimmer to emanate from a disguised crevice. Soon, each step she takes quickens with impatience, boredom fuelling her to find what they seek -- primarily for the sake of achieving their intended goal. She slows into a less determined pace, however, when a question crosses her mind and immediately leaves her mouth, speaking in a queit address, “So, Quentin, would you rather have to find a little skull guy or... watch a movie with your parents and it has a super awkward sex scene?”
Kate’s attention span for astute observation of their surroundings was expiring the longer they sifted around brick walls, replaced by the restless need for entertainment and, most of all, genuine curiosity to know his answer. She looks at him, ignorant to any sign their stroll could be impeded upon, as if they owned the space they were walking through, free from the threat of assault or harm. Oblivious; she was always the one who orbited too close to the sun, not even realising it was hanging in the sky before she looked directly into its yellow heat and burned a red halo into the whites of her eyes.
andulkaphoto
romaincrisis
theartofmadeline
baratheonpilled
discoholicmusic
