Paranoia Prison » Places

         An interesting detail about the golden sound. Yes, it definitely is quite interesting. The way it basically eats all other sounds, turning all to silence. To Babble's ears the girls bothersome voice was not entirely suppressed but was but a barely audible whisper, so far away despite being literally in the cell just across from the one he was sitting in.

He sighed too, only on the outside as well as inside. Of course she couldn't hear it. All was golden, after all. All was silent. In but a passing moment the background noise slowly faded back into audible hearing.

No one can appreciate the silence. He grieved mentally for the death of commonality between himself and any living creature in this forsaken dungeon. He smirked a bit upon seeing the blueberry girl hastily try to hide her asymmetry. It was quite funny really. An echo like Babble doesn't just see people, he can see the way sound both bounces off of them and travels through them, allowing him to let sound paint a picture of anyone near him in all three dimensions. Now proximity was a minor quandary. The further away someone was the less detailed his sonar became. In Madame Bleu's current situation Babble could basically see all but inside her. If he could touch her he'd be able to know her better than she knows herself.

"Not like it's anything I haven't heard before." He remarked, still wearing a mildly bemused smirk. Despite the amusing quality of her inexperience Babble was rapidly finding himself bored of her and that was the real issue to address at the moment. As it was he briefly considered going back to sleep and waking up later to go break some curfews. Not that he didn't plan on doing that at some point anyways but he wasn't the type to wait for fun to come and get him at it's own leisurely pace.

Aha! Babble snapped his fingers. Heh... Get it? Snapped? Because his fingers were broken before the hands themselves were taken? Never mind. Needless to say he had concocted some weird scheme to amuse himself and possibly others too. Babble stood, falling a bit forward before finding his balance and managing to stand without tipping.

Why bother with words? Why bother communicating at all? I'll dance and let the rhythm dictate my meaning.

Babble started with the right foot, then the left. The sounds of the trapped souls bound within these concrete halls started to take a backseat to a strange new sound. This song Babble sang using lips that do not move echoed through the halls. The sound was in total discord and yet flowed with a sweet harmony. It was irreproducible and yet would stick in the memory like lint to a sock. It was a sound that would stand at the very edge of your tongue, ready to be sung yet would never come out right.

His dancing was rather awkward. At times his legs and body moved with a stutter, jerking about like a video that wasn't finished downloading. At other times he simply flowed around, letting himself move like water, ebbing with the tune. There was only one direct certainty to this whole performance: He was moving out of the cell and down the hall. Where was he going? Not even he knew. All that was known was that he simply let the music guide him, following the rhythm until he found himself somewhere, anywhere. Whether or not the blueberry girl followed him was irrelevant, an issue far from his mind now.