"I'm completely cool. I'm fucking frosty, yo." Punchy sounds almost sulky as he lets Daniel wind the makeshift bandage around his head, as if Daniel's trying to deliver some ugly death blow to Punchy's self-esteem. He even pouts slightly, although as that particular facial motion seems to open up the cut going down his cheek, he quickly dispels that expression.
Punchy gets up too, although he doesn't run to the hovercraft. Maybe he should. He kicks himself inside that he should. But something about the ghoulish sight paralyzes him, and what comes to his mouth instead is whispered prayer that stands at such odds to his normal parlance. His Southern accent stands out more when it's not being run through the slang filter.
"Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them, may they rest in peace." It was the prayer they spoke at his sister's funeral, and it's strange and fitting that he doesn't remember anything special about that. He remembers everything someone should remember about a funeral, the burial, the wake, the prayer, the parents crying, his mother holding his hand - and yet he doesn't remember anything to fill in the picture. The memory is an inked outline with none of the color.
But he tries not to think about that. He digs his hand into his shirt and pulls out the hand puppet that used to grant him power and wonders if he could have done more if he had his abilities. He rolls the doll in his hand, clenches, feels the fabric in his palm and can't seem to glean any comfort from it. The hovercraft takes the bodies away.
He makes the doll puppet nod and whispers, in a high-pitched, quiet voice clearly meant to belong to the inanimate object, "amen".
He looks back to Daniel. "This ain't right. None of this is right."
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
Punchy gets up too, although he doesn't run to the hovercraft. Maybe he should. He kicks himself inside that he should. But something about the ghoulish sight paralyzes him, and what comes to his mouth instead is whispered prayer that stands at such odds to his normal parlance. His Southern accent stands out more when it's not being run through the slang filter.
"Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them, may they rest in peace." It was the prayer they spoke at his sister's funeral, and it's strange and fitting that he doesn't remember anything special about that. He remembers everything someone should remember about a funeral, the burial, the wake, the prayer, the parents crying, his mother holding his hand - and yet he doesn't remember anything to fill in the picture. The memory is an inked outline with none of the color.
But he tries not to think about that. He digs his hand into his shirt and pulls out the hand puppet that used to grant him power and wonders if he could have done more if he had his abilities. He rolls the doll in his hand, clenches, feels the fabric in his palm and can't seem to glean any comfort from it. The hovercraft takes the bodies away.
He makes the doll puppet nod and whispers, in a high-pitched, quiet voice clearly meant to belong to the inanimate object, "amen".
He looks back to Daniel. "This ain't right. None of this is right."