foolishwren | 94. FOURTH WALL

_{[When she sees that the owl is nowhere in sight, that's when a real thread of fear starts to snake its way into her consciousness.]

[She freezes, clutching her bleeding arm, and just sort of stands there in the still path for a second or two.]}

... He ... hello?

_{[And that's when things will get ... cold, somehow. Not really in temperature, not in a way you can feel, but it's still there. The presence that was lodged in her mind previously now physical and menacing.]

[Behind her.]

[Close, but out of reach, wearing the old tattered jean vest and a toothy grin that screams predator.]}

Hello, Heather Mason.

_{[The second that coldness sets in, she knows.]

[That doesn't stop a sharp intake of breath from escaping her at the sound of his voice. Stiff as a board, the hairs on her neck standing on end, she turns slowly around.]

[And there he is. Not a flash of him standing in the corner and leering, or a shadowy silhouette in the basement-- now he's standing there as bold as brass. He must know she knows now. Maybe that's why.]}

... You.

_{[She wants it to sound brave, but it really doesn't. For all she'd tried to reassure Cooper with talk of how now that she knew, she could plan and prepare, she hadn't.]}

ME!

_{[He shouts it, hurls it at her, somewhat crouched like he's ready to pounce. But he doesn't move, not outside of a subtle raising of one arm, fingers held like claws.]

[There's a clear glee in his voice and he starts laughing.]}

ME, Heather Mason! Back for a treat.

_{[She can't help it-- she steps back, her muscles tensing. Just as HE'S giving off the impression that he's about to hurl himself forwards just like his words, HER entire being responds by preparing to run the fuck AWAY.]

[Silent Hill instincts, after all. You could take the tiger out of the jungle, but not the jungle out of the tiger. Although in this case, maybe it was a matter of taking a girl out of the Otherworld.]

[Her lips peel back and she bares her teeth without even thinking, bleeding arm forgotten as her fingers curl into fists.]}

What do you want.

Some fun, Heather Mason.

_{[He bares his teeth very similarly, the smile not at all friendly. And the eyes have something wild about them when he takes a step forward, slowly and deliberately, to keep the distance they originally had.]

[And then he mimics what MIKE would sometimes say, mocking him in his absence. He's not here. BOB is in control.]}

"He is BOB, eager for fun.
He wears a smile, everybody run."

_{[Is anything about him EVER friendly?]

[The little rhyme, which is somehow childish and terrifying all at once, rake another set of icy fingers down her spine.]

[Fun? Fun? Yeah, I BET you'd like to have fun with me.]

[But all the same, she shoots back.]}

Then go find it somewhere else.

Like in traffic.

_{[He tsks, like setting a kid straight. The smile changes and could almost be playful if his eyes didn't look so cold and dark.]

[Taunting her, now.]}

Sticks and stones, little girl. I see your manners haven't changed.

I only change my manners for people who deserve it.

_{[She's not stepping back anymore-- he'd just follow her. She has to wait for the right chance.]}

_{[He grins at that, showing more of his teeth - in case she didn't already have a clear image of them.]}

Rude, Heather Mason.

I thought we all deserved second chances.

_{[And who here had a second chance, if not the girl who was born again?]}

Not you.

I know what you do now.

_{[Although in a weird way, she has a feeling that she always knew it, somehow. Deep down. Sort of like she'd known a LOT of things deep down that just hadn't come to the surface until she'd been forced to confront them head-on.]}

_{[And that seems to utterly delight him. The way he looks when he takes another step towards her could only really be described as a mix between gleeful and pleased.]}

Oh?

_{[Again - it could almost be innocent, his tone, but his eyes are malicious and hungry.]}

And what is it I do, Heather Mason?

_{[His glee at her knowledge of his actions sends a cascade of shudders down her spine. Disgusting.]

[She bristles.]}

I don't need to fucking spell it out for you.

Language. Now tell me, girl ...

_{[He reaches out and grabs her cheek. Unexpectedly fast; the grip is rough, and reminiscent of the way a parent might touch a misbehaving child, and in the same movement steps up close, leans into her space. Grinning all the while.]}

Who kissed and told?

Edited 2012-06-25 23:32 (UTC)

_{[Heather has quick reflexes. She has to. Slow people didn't go to Silent Hill's other side and come back out of it unscathed. Or alive, most of the time.]

[But the grab is fast. Almost unnaturally fast, and Heather, as tense and bolt-ready as she is, doesn't have the time to jerk away from it. An angry snarl of pain escapes her as she's yanked close by the flesh on her face, hands flying up to try and shove against him-- shove him away from her. She NEVER wanted him this close to her and now that she knows what he is and what he does, she wants it even less.]}

LET GO!

_{[No answer. Heather's never played nice when people try to get her to talk by getting physical.]}

_{[The grab wasn't actually meant as a threat to make her talk - he has a good idea anyway. Honestly, it was just something he couldn't resist doing. He laughs wildly when she struggles and lets go of her cheek only to gather his other hand in her hair, cradling the back of her head, not afraid to let his fingertips dig into her skull.]

[He's not aiming to hold her there for too long, but for this one moment, he wants to make her look him in the eyes when he stares down into hers and licks his lips. It's very deliberate.]

[When she asks him to let go though, he does, by practically throwing her away. And down, if he can - that depends on her reflexes. With that, the laugh changes into something calm and sinister.]}

Keep fighting, Heather Mason!

The fire is waiting.

Do you remember WHAT I TOLD YOU?

_{[Threat or no, if it was meant to scare her, it does its job. The hair-yank gets a strangled, garbled growl as her head jerks back, and no matter how lightning-fast her fear converts to anger upon manifestation, she can't hide the pure, undiluted fear in her eyes when he stares into them and tongues at his own lips like that.]

[But even as she recoils (as much as the brief grip allows her to) in fear, her hands are already coming up to claw at his face.]

[Surely, he expects that. It's something that anyone with any experience with Heather at ALL would expect her to do, and he's proven to have her number down pretty well.]

[As she's flung backwards, she reels but does manage to catch herself before hitting the ground, although it's a close call and her hands hit the earth to stop her FACE from pounding into it first. Then she whips back up to look at him, a scowl with the ferocity that can only stem from terror deep down planted firmly on her face.]

[She wants to attack him. Every instinct in her body SCREAMS to attack him, both her personal ones and the ones that came from Silent Hill. The old, foul ones that took satisfaction in feeling bones crunch under her feet and seeing the life leave things that she wanted dead. Those were the instincts that wanted to grab BOB by the throat and taste his blood and howl in triumph at the justice that was being served.]

[He no doubt expected her to try (and fail, because COME ON. This wasn't Silent Hill, here.)]

[But something held her back, and although she couldn't quite put a finger on it (nor could the stop the quiver of her entire body as it strained like an attack dog on a leash, begging to be let loose to DESTROY the thing that was frightening her so badly), but it might have had something to do with the two years she had spent here.]}

Yeah.

_{[Her voice is flat and cold.]}

I remember.

_{[And then, in a hurry because if she stopped to think too hard she might miss the chance or worse, go with what she WANTED to do, she jamsa hand into her pocket and hurls its contents (one of them) straight at BOB.]

[But unlike the rock that she'd lobbed at the owl's head earlier, it doesn't make it as far as him before it opened in a blinding flash of light.]

[And out of the light comes a horse that was big, on fire, and charging straight at him with its horned head lowered.]}

Edited 2012-06-26 00:23 (UTC)

_{[BOB is old. He doesn't even know how old he is himself - there's nothing equivalent to childhood memories and no one has told him. If asked, he'd like to say he's older than time, which is probably false. But he's old enough to have seen many things and done even more, and things that used to surprise him don't any longer.]

[This?]

[This is unexpected. And he's not surprised at what happens so much as angry, because Heather isn't playing by his rules. It makes him lose a bit of control of the situation and needless to say, he is not pleased by it.]

[Even less so by the fact that this rule breaking takes the form of a horse. The pale horse has been his opposition for many many ages. He's not scared of that horse and isn't by this one, but he loses his cold, gleeful composure in favour of something tense and angry - and it does look somewhat defensive when he bares his teeth this time.]

[Suddenly, he's not there.]

[He doesn't plan on getting trampled by a horse, even if it's on fire. It's ironic, really, and MIKE might have gotten a kick out of it in the older days. But now BOB is on his own, and he hates that fucking horse, and he's not going to get run over by something that resembles it, even if he knows he'd walk away from it without a mark.]

[It's a pride thing, really.]

[So he disappears from in front of the horse. Is gone long enough to cause confusion, the shrill sound from earlier starting to sound -]

[Then, a light falls on Heather as everything else slowly goes dark, and BOB is behind her, gripping her arms hard and breathing into her ear, voice low and rough and yes, he's angry.]}

Play. Nice.

_{[If one thing could be said about Heather, it's probably that she lives to break rules. She lives because she breaks rules.]

[And even though she's still scared, something in her lets out a raucous crow of triumph as his glee turns into anger. That's good. She likes that. She would rather see her enemies full of rage than leering at her like a bully sneering down at a kid they'd just pushed to the ground. That means she's made them mad, and that means she has power, however small.]

[But as Carousel blazes through the spot that BOB once stood, Heather's already realizing there's something wrong.]

[And then there's rough hands pressing into the flesh of her arms and a foul-smelling voice puffing hotly against the side of her head.]

[Play nice? Play NICE?! >8( HEATHER MASON NEVER PLAYS NICE.]

[He doesn't receive a verbal reply-- outside of an outraged scream as she twists in his grip. He's got her arms, so she can't claw or punch, but like a snared animal, she squirms with bared teeth to try and sink them into the side of his face. She's not sure if she can, but it's the closest thing to her and the dim image of her Rapidash is turning too slowly to come to the rescue.]}

Edited 2012-06-26 01:24 (UTC)

_{[Well, now.]

[He can absolutely work with her angling her face up towards his.]

[It could even look intimate at any other time, the way he's leaning over her shoulder and looking at her mouth; except she's fighting and his mouth is twitching, as if torn between a feral grin and the snarl that's in his throat.]

[And two can play at that game, Heather Mason.]

[His grip tightens on her arms as he yanks her back towards him and leans down to bite at her himself, aiming for the side of her mouth, nose, cheek, chin, anything that stands out in a dark dark parody of butterfly kisses.]}

_{[... Well, that didn't go as planned.]

[At all.]

[As soon as his teeth pinch down on his flesh for the first time, she tries to recoil with a very real scream. The normal anger in it is hardly present, at least not at first. Because the memories, flowing in...]

[As though drinking in your cries,
I bring my hopes to fruition:
biting your tongue, shredding it,
biting at your lips as if tasting
your lipstick...]}

RRRAAAACKCHKKKGH!

_{[Even as he's opening bleeding cuts on her face, she's still struggling because... well, what the hell ELSE is she gonna do? Gnashing her teeth, she tries to get hold of part of HIS face, his hair, ANYTHING. Meanwhile, she strains her arms, trying to bring them up and claw at the hands gripping her.]

[Meanwhile, the fiery horse had turned all the way around and was galloping back towards them, mane flickering with increasing intensity. In all the scrapes her trainer has been in, Carousel has never seen Heather in real, mortal peril.]}

_{[He grins against her skin, stubble scraping against it as he works on her face, tugs with his teeth against her flesh. He's not set to tear her open, but with the way she struggles against him some wounds are still made. Perhaps what's most revolting to her is that with every souch mark he takes the time to kiss it almost tenderly, as if trying to make it better.]

[He's completely unyielding in his hold, not minding the "kisses" she return, letting her tear at his skin as much as she wants, letting blood flow if she wants it - from the back of his hands as well, only feeling some of it but almost finding pleasure in what he does.]

[And oh, he hasn't forgotten the horse. The glance he throws it is really a glare, but he lets it come. Dips his head low when he looks to Heather again, teeth aiming to find her neck and throat.]}

_{[It IS revolting. It makes her skin crawl and perhaps worst of all, the fact that it's him almost isn't even the worst thing about it. It brings back memories, all kinds of horrible, horrible memories and some little part of her that isn't alight with five different kinds of panic is bitterly aware that that's probably why he's doing it.]

[The blood she draws is only satisfying for a split second, because it soon becomes apparent that he doesn't care and the brief, fleeting sense of small triumph quickly become horrified despair.]}

--Stop! STOP!

_{[She wishes she could muster a scream of rage for those words, but her voice sounds remarkably pathetic. There's even a sob. She hates herself for it, almost as much as she hates the way his lips are delicately, mockingly meeting each spot that his teeth nipped open.]

[And most of all, she hates the fact that she shouted out BEFORE the blast of Flamethrower that Carousel, finally close enough, loosed at the monster instead of holding out just a few seconds longer.]}

_{[He does stop, but only after what could almost be called an affectionate nip at her neck, a kiss to her cheek. He stops only because he can sense that the fire is coming.]

[When it does, he stands straight, leering at her as he for just a moment trails fingertips against the marked skin on her face.]

[When he's burning, he lets her see. Remains in place even while on fire, grinning with a low growl caught in the back of his throat that builds into a barking laugh...]

[And he's gone.]

[Truly gone.]

[Some scorch marks in his place the only indication of where he stood.]}

_{[Although her struggles never stop (it doesn't matter how powerless she feels or how hopeless a situation is, Heather never stops fighting. Never, ever, ever. As long as you're fighting the other side's win can never be totally complete. At least that's how she tries to look at it), she squeezes her eyes shut at his last awful, insulting caresses and lets out a choked sound.]

[Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck no please just NO]

[She can feel the approaching heat of the flame and a second set of alarm bells go off in her head, although at this point her fear being split two ways is almost better than the alternative. She recoils backwards as the fire billows past, engulfing her attacker in flames (and inevitably scorching her in the process). It's all she can do-- all she can even THINK of-- to just get away.]

[So as he stands there with his fiendish grin, burning away right in front of her, she scrambles backwards until she actually FALLS, hitting the ground hard and just huddling there, one hand to her bleeding face and the other shielding her eyes from the blaze. She's crying, although the sound doesn't even reach her own ears until the inferno, along with BOB, is gone.]

[Carousel clatters forward, sending up smoky dust as she tramples the spot where BOB once was for good measure (if he'd still been there, she'd have tried to run him through with her horn. She was not a violent Pokemon under most circumstances, but to protect the Trainer? That's a Pokemon's JOB), snorting through her nostrils.]

[Then, when she's convinced the threat is gone, she clops slowly over to Heather, who hasn't gotten up and isn't planning to for awhile. In a way, it's a good thing no one's around, because Heather would prefer not to be seen crouching at the Rapidash's feet, shaking like a leaf and trying to stifle sobs.]}

94. FOURTH WALL

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