Heather Mason (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foolishwren) wrote2012-05-23 12:58 pm
foolishwren) wrote2012-05-23 12:58 pm
Entry tags:
- @cliffjumper,
- @cooper,
- a letter to my future self,
- aaaaangst,
- action,
- all's well that ends well,
- and the joker got away,
- cianwood city,
- faceplanting imminent,
- family,
- fear for the flesh,
- houndoom,
- ic,
- image attached,
- mission accomplished,
- notto dissu shitto agen,
- private message,
- shoulda coulda woulda,
- silent hill survivors club,
- stylishly late,
- the town that takes all,
- video,
- why can't i hold all these feelings,
- why didn't you take my gift heather
93. [Video/Action for Cianwood Inn]
[Well, THAT had been fun.]
[After over a week, lots of bad weather, a few waterlogged hugs and a whole lot of flying, Heather's finally back on Cianwood, with a nurse, a mysterious young woman, a bird-obsessionist, and a magician-thief in tow.]
[She's exhausted and wants nothing more to just faceplant on the bed and let her father play host to the new additions to the 'family' (and the one returning member) for awhile... but as usual, something's come up.]
[The feed comes on from above-- she's flopped on her back on one of the hotel room's beds, hair still curly and wet from the shower she spent at least forty-five minutes in after arriving back on the island. She'd had to use an unoccupied hotel room (with Arty guarding the door to make sure no unsuspecting guest walked in on her) to do it on account of the fact that she'd been accompanied by four equally tired and dirty people who ALSO needed showers.]
[She picks tiredly at one eye, the camera wobbling above her on account of being held up with just one hand.]
Sooo.
Yeah, I uh... was totally planning on visiting some people on the way home, but... yeah.
All that weather sort of sucked all the sociability out of everybody. Sorry, Cliff. Wish I'd made it.
[YEAH, she's spoiling the surprise, but hey, she can always drop in on him and Ironhide later, assuming no giant storms pop right the fuck out of nowhere like last week. Ugh.]
But anyway, back safe and sound, nobody died, the world's still turning, chocolate and peanut butter are still an awesome combination, life goes on. Hope nobody got too battered during all that crazy apocalyptic weather.
[And around this point is where she'd usually turn the camera off (and maybe she intended to but is just so damn tired it slipped her mind) but the screen blurs as she rolls over, propping herself up on her elbows and resting the 'Gear against the bedspread next to her instead. Next to it are two things--]
[--a battered old medallion with red marks inscribed on it... and a piece of paper. The camera's gaze only lingers on it for a second or two, but quick readers might be able to make out the words Make her suffer written in loopy handwriting before the 'Gear moves again.]
[This time, it's aimed crookedly at the side of the bed, where the somber, doberman-like face of a Houndoom is watching the off-camera Heather in silence.]
....
Gonna have to come up with a different name for you.
[End feed.]
[AUDIO // LOCKED TO COOPER]
[Later that night:]
Hey, Coop.
You got a minute?
[After over a week, lots of bad weather, a few waterlogged hugs and a whole lot of flying, Heather's finally back on Cianwood, with a nurse, a mysterious young woman, a bird-obsessionist, and a magician-thief in tow.]
[She's exhausted and wants nothing more to just faceplant on the bed and let her father play host to the new additions to the 'family' (and the one returning member) for awhile... but as usual, something's come up.]
[The feed comes on from above-- she's flopped on her back on one of the hotel room's beds, hair still curly and wet from the shower she spent at least forty-five minutes in after arriving back on the island. She'd had to use an unoccupied hotel room (with Arty guarding the door to make sure no unsuspecting guest walked in on her) to do it on account of the fact that she'd been accompanied by four equally tired and dirty people who ALSO needed showers.]
[She picks tiredly at one eye, the camera wobbling above her on account of being held up with just one hand.]
Sooo.
Yeah, I uh... was totally planning on visiting some people on the way home, but... yeah.
All that weather sort of sucked all the sociability out of everybody. Sorry, Cliff. Wish I'd made it.
[YEAH, she's spoiling the surprise, but hey, she can always drop in on him and Ironhide later, assuming no giant storms pop right the fuck out of nowhere like last week. Ugh.]
But anyway, back safe and sound, nobody died, the world's still turning, chocolate and peanut butter are still an awesome combination, life goes on. Hope nobody got too battered during all that crazy apocalyptic weather.
[And around this point is where she'd usually turn the camera off (and maybe she intended to but is just so damn tired it slipped her mind) but the screen blurs as she rolls over, propping herself up on her elbows and resting the 'Gear against the bedspread next to her instead. Next to it are two things--]
[--a battered old medallion with red marks inscribed on it... and a piece of paper. The camera's gaze only lingers on it for a second or two, but quick readers might be able to make out the words Make her suffer written in loopy handwriting before the 'Gear moves again.]
[This time, it's aimed crookedly at the side of the bed, where the somber, doberman-like face of a Houndoom is watching the off-camera Heather in silence.]
....
Gonna have to come up with a different name for you.
[End feed.]
[Later that night:]
Hey, Coop.
You got a minute?
no subject
I was talking with someone and we were trying to figure out how the doctors and nurses got their medical training without a proper school system here.
no subject
...And then closes it.]
I...don't know either.
[But she has suddenly lost faith in the Joys.]
no subject
[Sorry Lisa.]