foolishwren | 70. [DREAM/DREAM/DREAM/DREAM]

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70. [DREAM/DREAM/DREAM/DREAM]

_{[So while the rest of Johto alternately panics, cries, or rushes around trying to capture as many of the soulstealing insects as possible, there are dozens of souls floating around in that dream limbo, drifting in and out of each other's slumbering thoughts and visions. Whether it's nightmarish flashbacks or just those dreams where you're at school taking a really hard test, and then Dracula shows up, and then everybody's naked ... anything is possible when it comes to what people see in their sleep.]

[But what appears in the darkness in this particular spot in the spaceless, shifting mass of dreaming souls... is a door.]

[It's old, and covered with boards and bolts, rusted near-through in some places. The lock is broken-- mangled and half-melted and wrenched out of the keyhole. The only thing on it that doesn't look ancient is a scrap of torn notebook-paper that's taped up on it at roughly eye-level. It reads only a single phrase:]}

Fear of blood tends to create fear for the flesh.

_{[More importantly, though... the door is ajar. Through the gap come the scents of rust and metal-- and something organic, fleshy-- and a low, deep hum of industrial machinery. It's not a door that anyone in their right mind would want to go through. ... But for anyone who may have stumbled this far into the dreams of their fellow lost souls, either in flight from some other nightmare or just pure, wandering curiosity... there's just no other place to go but through the door.]}

_{[Go on. Open it. After all.... it's only a dream.]}

[ooc: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, GUYS. Thanks for being patient! If you commented on that planning post, there's something spooky planned for your character to do here so please feel free to tag or not tag as it pleases you!]

~*~

[ooc: This is the IC post for what was announced over here! Even if you didn't comment there, feel free to participate! I'm still happy to whip up Silent Hill scenarios for folks!]

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_{[The floor jitters creakily when she steps onto it, as can probably be expected. ... But it's not the only thing that jitters.]

[The carousel horse she put her hand on did not, as most would, have a texture of cool, smooth ceramic. Instead... its hide is soft, and warm... and, like horseflesh often does to repel flies and other irritating touches, it twitches under Rise's palm... which will come away sticky and stained a dull, ruddy red should she pull it away.]

[Accompanying the movement is a weak, muffled squeal from deep within the stationary beast's shackled throat.]

[It's still alive.]}

[ it's too late to pull her hand away midstep-up, but a genuine look of horror crosses her face and she yanks her palm away once she's fully up, staring at first her bloodstained palm, and then at the poor, unfortunate horse. ]

Oh my god oh my god, I-- [ the sick feeling returns, but her eyes are also stinging now, and she swallows hard, trembling against her will as she reaches out to gently, apologetically touch the muzzle instead. ] I'm s-so sorry...

[ where is she? Who on earth was cruel enough to make a carousel of live horses? And what on earth is she supposed to do? ]

_{[Although the horse doesn't seem capable of moving (in fact, it seems almost stiffly frozen in place, apart from the subtle, spasmodic twitches making the neck and head jitter...), it snorts out a labored breath at her touch. A few drops of harsh red, bright against the old rust, spatter onto the floor of the carousel.]

[Not only is it alive, it's... very obviously in pain. Trapped and suffering... and a quick look around the ride will tell Rise without doubt that the other horses are suffering the same fate... prisoners of whatever horrible force was at work here.]

[The worst part is... there really doesn't seem to be anything she can do... How on earth would the poor creatures survive, even if they could somehow be removed from the giant hooks they hung from, and the gaudy frippery all over them?]

[Suddenly, a loud clank joins the cheerful carnival ditty, followed by a metallic groan... slowly, the ride is starting to move.]}

[ she is on a creepy carousel in a desolate amusement park filled with dead mascots and surrounded by suffering horses, and Rise would cry, except quite honestly, crying isn't going to accomplish a damned thing. She takes a deep, shuddering breath - it's only a dream, it has to be - but stumbles in surprise when the clank rings in the air and she tries to whirl around too quickly. Luckily, she catches herself before she tries to regain her balance on a horse, but this doesn't really make her feel any better. ]

What now?

_{[What now indeed...]

[The ride is picking up speed-- fortunately not enough to give Rise too hard a time standing up, but... that doesn't make what's happening around her any easier to take...]

[As the ride starts to do its thing, the hooks rise up and down, as would be expected for any carousel ride... but the muted squeals of pain coming from the stiff bodies being hauled up and down are hardly the child-friendly and whimsical sounds one would expect from a merry-go-round. In fact, against the mockingly-cheerful calliope music still blaring from unseen speakers, the effect is almost sickening.]

[But where Rise is undecided on what to do... someone else already has a solution, and it's a solution that she's been having to implement for a long, long time.]

[A low clank-clank-clank of boots on the metal carousel floor sounds above the music and cries. Someone else is on the ride... and they're walking towards Rise.]}

[ Rise's had nightmares before, ones where she's woken up in a cold sweat, shaking in terror until she's reminded that she's awake, she's safe, and the trembling subsides.

This, however, isn't ending, and she wants to clap her hands over her ears to drown out the stifled squeals of agony of the carousel horses, the almost taunting lighthearted music that continues--

It's fortunate for her (though she certainly doesn't think so) that she doesn't, because that might also mute the sound of footsteps. Someone's here. And it's not all that reassuring, because after the death and the torment of the living she's discovered, someone's presence might not be the welcome one she was wishing for. So she tenses, squinting at the approaching figure-- and takes a step back when her glance lands first on the knife. But then, when her eyes flick further up, Rise stops in her tracks. Confusion and wariness-- but also familiarity? She knows that outfit, that build, but-- ]

H... Heather...?

_{[The approaching figure gives no reply, but continues forward... and as it begins to pass under the colored lights, its identity becomes clear.]

[It is Heather... although that same familiar outfit is filthier than it's ever been in Johto, even after rainstorms and a muddy spring. It looks... old. Like it was pulled out of a landfill. The scruffy hair that Rise herself has forced a comb through on more than one occasion is pitch-black. Instead of hazel-brown, the blackened eyes flicker with orange, like there's a fire alight deep behind their sockets.]

[But the biggest thing wrong is the festering burns that pockmark every inch of visible flesh... and the way it skulks. Like an some fusion of a walking corpse and an animal.]}

_{[There is no doubt about it. The creature now approaching Rise is Heather Mason... but not the one that anyone in Johto knows her as.]}

[ were it not for the situation at hand and the fact that Heather (?) is covered in burns, Rise might have something to say about that raggedy black thing that could double as the twin of a skinned black cat on top of her head.

Except that the situation at hand is beyond the point of girly, affectionate chiding. Her first step was involuntary, her next one backwards more deliberate. It's the minute her heel meets the carousel floor that the memory working its way to the surface like a persistent soda bubble finally hits her.

"... Me with black hair and ... third degree burns everywhere..."

No doubt about it, they're one and the same, and Rise slides a foot back to properly brace herself for whatever the Shadow - she knows it's different, but what else could she call it? - is prepared to do. Because it's both Heather and not Heather, and the nausea rises up again, slowly.

Why? ]

_{[Don't worry, Rise. You'll have plenty of time to chide Heather for her Shadow's hair later.]

[But for now, that broken, violent memory that Heather once spoke of, more than half a year before, is approaching Rise with an ember-hued, unblinking stare. And all the while, the carousel music plays on.]

[For every step backwards Rise takes, the shadow takes two forward, until she's crossed the distance and stands directly in front of the idol, unfortunately giving her a great view of its less-than-ideal complexion. The smell is probably hideous. It doesn't speak, but it breathes in and out with a deathly rattle.]

[It stops before Rise and pauses there-- sizing her up in a way that was so reminiscent of Heather that it would almost be funny if it weren't for the situation-- before extending the hand with the knife in it. But not to point... she's holding it flat in her palm.]}

[ she'd love dearly to cover her nose and mouth, just to avoid breathing in that stench. Or close her eyes, but doing that when a burned version of your best friend is standing there with a knife in her hand is probably not the wisest idea. All of this is dizzying, terrifying-- but Rise's looked into mocking golden eyes, stood before perfectly smooth, flawless skin and a curvaceous body, and truthfully-- she'd felt even sicker then. She remains where she is this time, eyes dropping to the memory's extended hand and then flitting back up to her damaged face. She doesn't move quite yet, but one hand twitches slightly, as though it's considering moving for her. ]

_{[The creature stands there, palm out, waiting silently.]

[... Although she seems to share Heather's impatience, because when Rise doesn't take the knife right off the bat, the breathing turns into a low growl-- not a human sound, more like some kind of big cat-- and she kind of jerks her hand a little bit.]}

[ when it's apparent that the creature isn't planning on pulling out another knife or a gun or something, Rise finally moves. Her fingers tentatively close over the handle of the knife, lifting it off of "Heather"'s palm and bringing it back to her side. ]

_{[The knife is a pocket switchblade, its blade stained red with something that was hopefully rust but probably not. The creature allows Rise to take it before withdrawing its own hand.]

[... Aaaand then it digs into one of its filthy pockets and takes out a handgun.]

[WELLP.]}

[ ...

... ...

Rise's cursing is limited to a single insult of 'bastard' in the span of a year, but it's so very tempting to borrow from Kanji's vocabulary for a minute. ]

Oh, come on, how is that fair?!

[ because this is the most worrisome thing about a badly burned animalistic version of your friend. Clearly. ]

_{[OH RISE. EXPECTING FAIRNESS IN SILENT HILL. PSHAW.]

[Heather's doppelganger seemingly ignores the idol's protests, instead prying at the gun with oddly-sharp fingers to see if it's loaded. Once she's satisfied, she just sort of... um. Walks away.]

[... Over to one of the horses.]}

[ ... on the bright side, OH THANK GOD.

... on the unbright side, OH GOD NO. Okay, so far she hasn't attacked Rise, toppling the idol's wary expectations. But why the knife? And oh god is she going to shoot that horse-- ]

Wai--

_{[SORRY RISE YOU ARE BEING IGNORED RIGHT NOW. Unless you like, come over and try to use the knife against her. Then she'll be pretty pissed.]

[But for the moment, she's not even looking back over her shoulder. She lifts a hand to gently place on the horse's quivering nose, rubbing it there for a few seconds. Her lips move as though speaking to it, but ... well, it's unclear as to whether or not the creature even CAN produce words...]

[... And then, yes. She lifts the gun and places the barrel between the suffering animal's eyes.]

[Rise may want to close her eyes before the ensuing BANG.]}

[ closed eyes and turning away, at that, but she can't block out the gunshot. Don't be sick, don't be sick, don't be sick-- but it's about now that tears are most definitely stinging her eyes. ]

_{[The bang isn't followed by silence-- the carousel music and muted bugles of the other horses still float through the air, but one of the voices is missing.]

[After a moment or so, footsteps approach Rise from behind. Heather's shadow is back. She'll find a hand laid on her shoulder-- although it's a sort of awkward touch, more like a dog putting its paw on someone's knee than a human 'Hey, are you okay?' pat. Similar sentiment, though.]}

[ the idol flinches, before she turns her head to look at the shadow, and it's finally painfully apparent that yes, Rise is a softhearted teenage girl with more than a few tears sliding down her face who just so happens to be highly upset right now. ]

W-why...? Why? What are you even trying to do??

_{[The shadow doesn't appear to be capable of any expression apart from that silent stare, but at the very least... she doesn't seem angry. She tilts her head just so at the teary response-- as though confused, or just curious.]

[But in reply, she holds up a hand-- the one she rubbed the horse's nose with. There's blood on it, like what came off on Rise's hand when she laid one of her own on an unfortunate horse's hide.]

[Then she raises the gun once more and mimes pointing it to her own temple.]}

Edited 2011-06-30 01:51 (UTC)

[ and that's when Rise moves, one hand curling around the shadow's wrist, eyes glittering with tears and shaking her head fiercely. ]

No. Please, just... no...

_{[The shadow actually TAKES A STEP BACK at that, raising and splaying both hands, letting the gun point away again-- like a WHOA CHILL BRO gesture. There's liquid in your eyes and that's freaky. 8(]

[She lifts her other hand again, showing the blood. Then gestures with it towards the horse that she just-- ... well, there's no way to put it nicely-- she'd killed it.]

[The hook that had been dragging it brutally up and down through the air had ceased movement, as had the body itself-- it hung still and stiff, now an inanimate-- grisly, but blessedly inanimate-- decoration.]

[Then, broadly, the shadow of Heather Mason gestured around them-- to the other horses, which were still very much alive... jittering, quaking, and bleeding.]

[And then, still with Rise's hand clamped on her wrist, she lifts the gun to her temple and makes a popping sound with her lips-- with a little imagination, it could resemble the sound of a gunshot.]}

I get it.

[ it's little more than a faint, broken whisper. She'd realized immediately, a split second after it had sank in that the horses were alive, that there was no possible way to save them, to remove them without killing them.

But this hurts. ]

I get it, but... they didn't...

[ the horses were innocent. Someone had deliberately done this to them, ensuring that the most humane way to free them was to rob them of life. ]

_{[The creature only nods. That's it. That's it exactly.]

[Of course it hurts... that's what this place is made of. Tainted with. Every inch of it... pain.]}

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;-; Aw Rise

such a bleeding heart ;;

;-; RISE BB IT'S GONNA BE OKAY

NO IT'S NOT ;^;

rise you are tearing me apaht

what a funny story

O HI MARC