No, no. No way. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. [ If there’s one thought that makes waking up in an unknown, potentially dangerous foreign place worse, it’s knowing that it means the worst case scenario came true. The Attic. It has to be. It's the only explanation that Topher has for closing his eyes in Tucson and opening them...here. That somehow, after everything, Rossum still won. They found him and they threw him in a chair, and now-
There's only one thing that stops his panic from transforming into full blown hysteria, and that's the Gladiator-esque surroundings. He's had plenty of time to imagine the subconscious nightmares his brain could come up with, and this matches exactly none of them. Not the most comforting thought, but still a relief. At least, it is until he sees something coming towards him. Sentient pudding. Seriously? Thanks brain. He starts to run blindly away from the creature. Dying in the Attic may not always mean dying in real life, but he's no Echo, and doesn't plan on testing that theory. ]
It's not real. It's not real.
[He's only made it out of the arena when he impacts off something. Or, more accurately, someone. Oops.]
H O P E Confusion
[ Aside from adding a burst of surrealism, the flowers don't change his initial panic and (mostly) internal screaming. Once that's subsided, Topher does take a moment to go through them. All of them have different names on them, most he doesn't know. But one of them...
Bennett.
It's red, of course. The only flower that color in the bunch. Suddenly, this scenario is so much closer to his own personal horrors than the monsters. Because, it's a joke. A terrible, cruel parody that someone - or his own mind - created. Knowing that doesn't stop him from keeping a grip on it, even as he drops the rest of them. ]
Topher Brink | Dollhouse
No, no. No way. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. [ If there’s one thought that makes waking up in an unknown, potentially dangerous foreign place worse, it’s knowing that it means the worst case scenario came true. The Attic. It has to be. It's the only explanation that Topher has for closing his eyes in Tucson and opening them...here. That somehow, after everything, Rossum still won. They found him and they threw him in a chair, and now-
There's only one thing that stops his panic from transforming into full blown hysteria, and that's the Gladiator-esque surroundings. He's had plenty of time to imagine the subconscious nightmares his brain could come up with, and this matches exactly none of them. Not the most comforting thought, but still a relief. At least, it is until he sees something coming towards him. Sentient pudding. Seriously? Thanks brain. He starts to run blindly away from the creature. Dying in the Attic may not always mean dying in real life, but he's no Echo, and doesn't plan on testing that theory. ]
It's not real. It's not real.
[He's only made it out of the arena when he impacts off something. Or, more accurately, someone. Oops.]
H O P EConfusion[ Aside from adding a burst of surrealism, the flowers don't change his initial panic and (mostly) internal screaming. Once that's subsided, Topher does take a moment to go through them. All of them have different names on them, most he doesn't know. But one of them...
Bennett.
It's red, of course. The only flower that color in the bunch. Suddenly, this scenario is so much closer to his own personal horrors than the monsters. Because, it's a joke. A terrible, cruel parody that someone - or his own mind - created. Knowing that doesn't stop him from keeping a grip on it, even as he drops the rest of them. ]