The dude firing head-lasers is an eighteen-year-old Raz-- now a Whispering Rock counselor-- and the kid screaming his head off is an OC, Balthasaar; the two others are elements of this particular mental world. Don't know if you guys remember the write-up I posted probably a year ago... and I can't find the entry to link for you guys, but here's what's happening:
As they walk through the eroded corridors, Balthasaar can't help but notice that this is the tenth door he's passed in the span of what has to have been twenty minutes. Curiosity, as has always been the perpetrator in his young life, once more takes control of the boy and he fearlessly opens one, only to be met by a ghastly face lunging straight for him. Skeletons in the closet... he figures he should've anticipated that.
Raz turns around with a jolt at the unexpected clatter from behind and sees his tag-along attempting a show-down with animated bones. He rolls his eyes and sends a wave of seismic energy in Balthasaar's direction, but expertly misses the boy and hits only the skeleton.
"I told you not to fall behind or touch anything, kid," Raz whispers, though the damage has already been done; if anyone had been oblivious to their presence prior to the blast, they'll certainly know now.
"Come on, and keep up this time," he orders as he picks up his former pace down the shadowed hall. Bal springs forward to catch up with his mentor who casts him a furtive glance.
"You know," Raz ponders aloud, "When I was your age, I was doing this sort of thing alone."
Bal crinkles his nose indignantly, "Yeah, but we can't do that anymore. We're not allowed to go alone."
"We weren't allowed to either when I did it," the psychic counselor says with a playful grin and Balthasaar flashes one to match.
"We've been going down this hall an awful long time," Bal comments casually a few moments later, as if remarking on a cool spell or a chance for afternoon showers. Raz nods.
"And it's really..." the boy waves his hand dismissively, searching for the right word, "Shadowy here."
Again Raz nods, "Yeah, this guy's pretty fucked up."
"So what're we doing here?" Bal asks, figuring that Raz's response to his last remark was a sign that his teacher was willing to engage in conversation.
"Fixing him," Raz replies with a hint of a smile.
"I know that," the young camper volleys exasperatedly, "But how?"
"That is the question, isn't it?"
"Okay then, what's his problem?" Balthasaar tries a different approach.
"Just after he turned eighteen, he was drafted and sent to war. His mom didn't want him to have anything to do with the military or the warfront, but there wasn't much he could've done by that point, I guess," Raz's eyes narrow slightly as he momentarily pauses in his narrative thinking he sees a change in scenery ahead, but soon continues, "Anyway, when he got back his mom had him committed for being a good little soldier. He's been having mom issues ever since. Turns out he's psychic, too, so he's been trashing the ward without realising it."
"Mom issues?"
"Thinks she's everywhere he is," Raz supplies.
Balthasaar furrows his brow and continues the walk down the endless corridor in silence.
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