@hiiracth
The space they called the ‘photo world’ was silent, static and sapped of its color, and since the wind had ceased to blow, the greenery-- if it could be called that now, looked more like details on a painting without a breeze to lend it any motion. The only life-like thing that seemed to exist here was Norton Campbell, his color so blaring against the endless monochrome that he knew he’d be easier to spot.
Better to get out of here quickly. But first, he examined his surroundings. He’d caught a glimpse of another, richer flash of color from some yards away and strained his eyes to see it better-- the hunter, Norton realized, suddenly looked as life-like as himself, and he was holding something: a monochrome figure strung up almost comically with a set of balloons. Norton crept closer to them, careful to stay out of sight, until he recognized the person’s clothing with a dreadful shudder.
He had to get out of here.
The Prospector dashed back to the other side, back to the sickly greens and blues that kept this space unwelcoming, but comparably alive. He’d been warned-- he needed to find her. The ‘Doctor’ was the one they’d said to go to. Retreating with haste past the old hospital building and towards the shack where he’d spotted her before, Norton hurried into the dingy little structure and called out.
“Doctor.”
Their eyes met. His lips drew tighter at the corners.
“We haven’t spoken,” he added needlessly. Get to the point. As uncomfortable as it felt to rely on other people, there was, nonetheless, a request Norton had to make of her. “I might need your help.”
