Fight Scene - 1st POV, Northern British
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Teen (13-17)Accents
British (England - Liverpool, Manchester, Lancashire, Cheshire)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
The battle got only worse from there. The visitor continued to reform and attempt to take us out with sudden leaps. Lockwood and I are taking it in turns to defend with everything. We had. The wind roared objects of all shapes and sizes flew and the smoke from the rug billowed in all directions making it hard to see George. I yelled, coughing around a mouth full of smoke. What's happening? I found a cavity of some sort in the wall but I can't get it open. Well, hurry it up. Will you bang rattle, rattle, rattle, swish, swish, swish, swish. Watch it. Get back. Oh no, you don't crash. I've got it open. Bloody brilliant. Now, would you get a move? My retort dissolved into both another coughing fit and a shout as I narrowly avoided getting another tack from the ghost. Take that you stupid ghost. Ha What? My wounded arms screaming for a breather. I took a moment to survey the scene while contemplating my next move. Everything around me was a total **** show. But what really got me was Lockwood's reaction to it all. Was he laughing? Oh God, what the hell had I gotten myself into everything, it seems had gone horribly wrong. The rug was still burning, my ears were ringing. My arms had something awful and it was nearing three in the morning and we were still fighting for our lives against a vengeful spirit that was far stronger than any of us had expected. And yet the absolute idiot beside me was grinning, grinning like this was the best thing that had happened to him all week. The hell is wrong with you. I shouted over the wind and the noise of something smashing against the fire wall, that horrible vase from the sound of it. Oh, come on loose came the reply. I couldn't see Lockwood's face clearly to the gloom and the smoke, but I could hear the laughter in his voice. You're telling me you're not having any fun fun. Christ. My employer was bloody mental.