[ The house had been something Jesse had spotted while outrunning an ogre, eyes wide with terror. Exhausted, bare feet all cut up and mud-covered, just like his skinny bare legs, ridiculous pink umbrella-shaped raincoat likewise splattered with mud, Jesse had veered off to the left mid-frantic run and thundered towards the house. Pounding up the steps, he'd hollered at Daryl to get his attention, screaming Over here! breathlessly at him.
And now they're inside. Safe from harm. For now. Door slammed shut tight behind them, Jesse sagging back against it while gasping for breath. He gulps, makes aghast choking noise while trying to suck oxygen down into his burning lungs. He's dripping with mud, with raindrops, blood oozing on the floor from his feet. The raincoat bent up at a weird angle from being slumped against the door. ]
Holy shit. Holy shit. [ That's all that's tumbling out of him, a hoarse and whimpering whisper, eyes squeezed shut, like he's mindlessly babbling out a prayer. ] Holy shit. Holy shit, ohmygod, holy shit—
» NO PHONE RECEPTION — outside, around the city; open to anyone
[ Three days. He's been here three days so far. Holed up in the house he and Daryl had taken refuge in - which turned out to be empty. Over those three days, though, Jesse keeps checking his phone. Not the one that seems to connect to the city he's found himself in - his other one. From home. The red flip phone that he'd been calling Jane's number on, again and again, and again, just so he can listen to her voice. The only piece of her he has left.
God, he knows this place must be Hell. Or some kind of place for damned, evil people like him to be dragged into by whatever these gods are that rule this place. Wherever he is, Jesse knows he deserves it. After all, he deserves whatever happens to him, right? But god, does he miss Jane. He misses her so much. He aches for the familiarity of home, of the smell of her on his bedsheets, those sardonic smiles of hers she used to give him, the smell of her cigarettes, her aloof sweetness. Inside the house, he'd kept trying to call her number, just so he can hear her voice one last time, just one last time, and he keeps getting no reception. Which is why he eventually, against his better judgement, ventures outside. Maybe, just maybe, there's better phone reception outside somewhere. Even though he knows deep down that he's lost any and all connection to the world he's always known.
Jesse is a skinny waif of a guy. Bony legs, scrawny frame, his dark t-shirt clinging to him from the misty rain, dark blond hair matted to his forehead. Green boxer shorts, no shoes. Cuts on his feet from running for his life the other day from that ogre. He's punching in a number on the dial pad, then crossing an arm across his middle, thin shoulders hunched, as he presses the phone to his ear. Shifts restlessly from foot to foot, chewing on his lip with anxiously withering hope. No reception. Again. His mouth bites a despairing grimace, tears beginning to prickle at his eyes, and he yanks the phone from his ear to punch the number in again, a little more desperately this time. And, again, he shoves the phone to his ear. No reception. Again. Nothing. Dead silence. ]
( ooc: Feel free to approach this starter however you like! An ogre suddenly coming out of nowhere, for instance! Or some other rabid, dangerous beast! Or perhaps your character has never seen a cellphone before! Honestly, feel free to hit me with anything, but also feel free to PM me or shoot me a message over at heisenbong if there's anything in particular you'd like to ask or discuss! )
Jesse Pinkman » One closed prompt + one open!
And now they're inside. Safe from harm. For now. Door slammed shut tight behind them, Jesse sagging back against it while gasping for breath. He gulps, makes aghast choking noise while trying to suck oxygen down into his burning lungs. He's dripping with mud, with raindrops, blood oozing on the floor from his feet. The raincoat bent up at a weird angle from being slumped against the door. ]
Holy shit. Holy shit. [ That's all that's tumbling out of him, a hoarse and whimpering whisper, eyes squeezed shut, like he's mindlessly babbling out a prayer. ] Holy shit. Holy shit, ohmygod, holy shit—
» NO PHONE RECEPTION — outside, around the city; open to anyone
God, he knows this place must be Hell. Or some kind of place for damned, evil people like him to be dragged into by whatever these gods are that rule this place. Wherever he is, Jesse knows he deserves it. After all, he deserves whatever happens to him, right? But god, does he miss Jane. He misses her so much. He aches for the familiarity of home, of the smell of her on his bedsheets, those sardonic smiles of hers she used to give him, the smell of her cigarettes, her aloof sweetness. Inside the house, he'd kept trying to call her number, just so he can hear her voice one last time, just one last time, and he keeps getting no reception. Which is why he eventually, against his better judgement, ventures outside. Maybe, just maybe, there's better phone reception outside somewhere. Even though he knows deep down that he's lost any and all connection to the world he's always known.
Jesse is a skinny waif of a guy. Bony legs, scrawny frame, his dark t-shirt clinging to him from the misty rain, dark blond hair matted to his forehead. Green boxer shorts, no shoes. Cuts on his feet from running for his life the other day from that ogre. He's punching in a number on the dial pad, then crossing an arm across his middle, thin shoulders hunched, as he presses the phone to his ear. Shifts restlessly from foot to foot, chewing on his lip with anxiously withering hope. No reception. Again. His mouth bites a despairing grimace, tears beginning to prickle at his eyes, and he yanks the phone from his ear to punch the number in again, a little more desperately this time. And, again, he shoves the phone to his ear. No reception. Again. Nothing. Dead silence. ]
( ooc: Feel free to approach this starter however you like! An ogre suddenly coming out of nowhere, for instance! Or some other rabid, dangerous beast! Or perhaps your character has never seen a cellphone before! Honestly, feel free to hit me with anything, but also feel free to PM me or shoot me a message over at