94. FOURTH WALL

[foolishwren]

<sub>[If anyone stops to check their 'Gear in the midst of all the chaos unfolding, they will find an extremely odd text message originating from the 'Gear of Heather Mason.]

[Or more accurately, it's the image attachment that's odd.]






[Apparently, some nurses have stolen Heather's PokeGear and are using it to take Myspace pictures.]

[Wellp.]</sub>




[ooc: Feel free to tag in with any scenario or character you want, it doesn't necessarily have to involve the text message, the nurses, or their godawful duckfaces! GO WILD, just let me know where you want the thread to take place!]

Comments

[foolishwren]

_{[Only when she's in Silent Hill]}

Does it look like I'm having fun?

[likediamond]

Satisfying, gratifying, fun — it's all the same emotion, deep down. They're dead, and you're triumphant, and you enjoyed it.

[foolishwren]

<sub>[--wow okay dude, she thought you were just some smarmy middle-aged guy at first but now you're getting creepy.]

[In fact, you remind her of someone.]</sub>

Too bad Vincent's gone. You two would get along.

_{[It's said in a mumble, but he can probably still hear it.]}

[likediamond]

[Spoilers: he did.]

My, my. Are so many of your friends dearly departed?

[foolishwren]

_{[Windom gets the honor of having a dull glare sent in his direction.]}

He wasn't my friend, either.

[likediamond]

And who, then, are you?

:U IS THIS ACTION?

[foolishwren]

<sub>[Well, under most circumstances, she'd give her name without much worry. She's had two years in Johto to get used to not needing that old paranoia anymore.]

[But, well. This guy is a little creepy.]

[So...]</sub>

Someone who can't stand cryptic bullshit.

Who are you?

SURE WHY NOT

[likediamond]

[Creepy? Him? Why, he's nothing but pleasant.]

Someone who enjoys a game.

OH BOY

[foolishwren]

_{[sry mister you are p. creepy.]}

Yeah?

Well I don't.

I hate games.

Games suck.

_{[She's totally lying, games are cool, but for some reason agreeing with this guy just seems like a really bad idea. He's way too calm in the face of those nurses, who conveniently aren't dead, or particularly paying attention. They found the makeup drawer and they're powdering their faces now.]}

[likediamond]

[Not creepy. Just a friendly old gentleman.

OR IS HE.]

Oh, I don't think that's true. Particularly not when they're ones played for...high stakes.

[foolishwren]

_[Sob.]

Yeah, well... different strokes for different folks, I guess.

<sub>[She folds her arms-- sort of an automatic defensive gesture.]

[She's just gonna ignore the part where that statement had probably been directed at HER more than him.]</sub>

[likediamond]

My, my, I do wonder what sort of picture your strokes paint.

Though perhaps you'll show me, once you tire of your little friends the nurses there.

[foolishwren]

_{[... Okay yeah no Heather doesn't like this situation. And it sort of takes precedence over the nurses gossiping over the PokeGear in the corner.]}

Pretty sure you wouldn't like my artistic style, mister.

[likediamond]

Blood is such a difficult medium.

[He tsks his tongue a little, nodding sympathetically.]

Perhaps you'd have more luck with still life. Well, for a time, at least. Rigor mortis works wonders at keeping a corpse in its pose, but its effects are only temporary.

[foolishwren]

<sub>[... Nope. NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE mister you are a freak.]

[Heather clenches her fists.]</sub>

Who are you?

[likediamond]

Tsk, tsk, so repetitive, my dear. You're only going around in circles now. Like a vulture over its carrion.

[He produces a wooden whistle about as long as his forearm and pipes a few whimsical notes on it.]

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. A name for a name. Unless you're afraid of yours?

[foolishwren]

<sub>[The random whistle gets one of the most hilarious stares of bafflement she's made in this conversation yet.]

[You can SEE the cogs in her head working to try and rationalize what the fuck this guy is doing, and not coming up with an explanation.]

[Then she seemingly gives up on it, shaking her head with a frustrated huff.]</sub>

I'm not afraid of a fucking name, thanks.

Just of handing it out to crazy people who randomly appeared in my bathroom.

_{[She's not sure if he just... MANIFESTED in here, or saw the hotel room door open and walked right in, or WHAT.]}

[likediamond]

Oh, no, but you are afraid. Quite afraid.

[His voice is steadily dropping lower, turning thoughtful, like he's musing aloud to himself rather than actually addressing her.]

How many varied forms it takes. The squeaking mouse, the cornered fox. Little birds puff up their feathers when they feel threatened — it tricks the predator into thinking they're bigger than they are. What are you afraid of, that's ruffling your feathers so?

[He sweeps the flute in a gradual circle, an offhand motion centered in the wrist.]

Right now, aren't you thinking of killing me to make me disappear?

[foolishwren]

<sub>[She stares back at him with a look that's vaguely deer-in-headlights.]

[Because... well, no, not specifically like THAT, but had the thought of possibly having to kill him crossed her mind? Yes. Yes, of course it had. It's a nasty little survival-oriented habit she'd picked up there, on account of things so often being kill-or-be-killed. She WAS cornered, and she was used to having to fight her way out of corners bloodily.]

[But she's not gonna SAY that, so all she comes out with is a flat, unconvincing]</sub>

No...

[likediamond]

[His smile here is almost fatherly, it's so friendly, so charming.]

No? It's nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, it's a marvelous way of getting rid of pests. Did anyone ever tell you the quickest way to a man's heart?

[He taps lightly on his side for emphasis — his left side, between two ribs.]

Right there.

[foolishwren]

_{[She grew up the first time with fake smiles. Deceitful smiles. Shark smiles. She knows one when she sees one.]}

I don't kill things for being pests.

_{[But it's a little distracted. Why is he doing that? Is he THAT confident?]}

Why the hell are you telling me this?

[likediamond]

Because, my dear, one can't play a game without moving the pieces.

[His hand comes up again, this time tapping his temple lightly, and then gradually descends to point at her.]

But don't worry. Even a pawn might succeed in its dream of becoming a queen, if it makes it to the king's row.

[Because really, in the end, none of this was about Heather at all, now, was it?]

[foolishwren]

_{[Of course it's not. But all the same, he's pointing at HER, so what else can she assume? She still has no idea who he is-- Cooper didn't tell her enough about the man named Windom Earle to guess. What reason would he have had to do that? It's not like Windom was EVER gonna show up in Johto, right?]}

Do I look like the kind of person who cares about becoming a queen?

_{[Heather's no Twin Peaks pageant material.]}

[likediamond]

Not in the least. And that's what makes you a meaningless sacrifice.

[He wags the whistle at her in mock reproach, then angles toward the door.]

The life of a pawn is kill or be killed. And that's what you are, and that's what you'll be, while the rest of the game takes place around you.

[He motions vaguely to the nurses.]

Go put that fear to good use, my dear, and do the only thing you're meant for.

[foolishwren]

<sub>[Something about the way he phrases it is incredibly chilling, and Heather can't help but find gooseflesh prickling on her arms and neck.]

[Here he was, telling her what to do, acting almost like he knew her, but she'd never SEEN him before. Who was he? How the hell was he so confident in his interpretation of her role?]

[She can't keep a tremble out of her voice, although she grits her teeth in the hope that it comes out as a tremble of anger rather than fear.]</sub>

First, tell me who you are.