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ph_logs2024-09-06 05:56 pm
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ph_logs2024-09-06 05:56 pm
September Mini - Ghost of the Past
The Visitor's Center
Just where the sands of Tawny Beach begin to fade into soil, grass, and cobbled roads, there is a new building. Much like the House of Cards, it seems to have appeared from nowhere overnight. A large and round structure of tastefully stacked stone, it seems to fit perfectly in between the town and the marina, with an exterior door facing each side and at both entrances. It reads, "VISITOR'S CENTER," in bold letters.
In mailboxes throughout town, there are flyers, advertising "offworlder visitation" running from September 6th to 19th. "Make appointment today!" it advertises cheerfully.
Regardless of which side you enter, the same receptionist sits at the desk on either side--- a pretty-faced young man with braided black hair, wearing dozens of pieces of delicate golden jewelry. He is working hard on some sort of paperwork or taking some phone call when you come in, but he quickly sets it aside to welcome you. "Hello! Welcome to the visitor's center! Would you like to make an appointment?"
Your host artfully dances around questions regarding the place, its abrupt construction, its purpose, and what your appointment actually entails, assuring you it's "self-explanatory." He'll gladly inform you that "people you know" are here for a visit, but won't say who or why or for how long. But you'll sign up for your appointment anyway, for one reason or another. Perhaps you don't even really know.
At the time of your appointment, you are sat down in a tasteful meeting space of your choosing (the options are listed below) and your guest is brought in. But it is not who you expect. In fact, in all likelihood, you do not know this person at all. But don't worry, they've been briefed, and they'll pass the information along to you if asked.
You see, you are not here to meet someone from your own past, at least not at first---- you're here to meet someone close to one of your friends or neighbors. And they're here to speak about that person to you.
Take as long as you need. The Visitor's Center does not close.
In mailboxes throughout town, there are flyers, advertising "offworlder visitation" running from September 6th to 19th. "Make appointment today!" it advertises cheerfully.
Regardless of which side you enter, the same receptionist sits at the desk on either side--- a pretty-faced young man with braided black hair, wearing dozens of pieces of delicate golden jewelry. He is working hard on some sort of paperwork or taking some phone call when you come in, but he quickly sets it aside to welcome you. "Hello! Welcome to the visitor's center! Would you like to make an appointment?"
Your host artfully dances around questions regarding the place, its abrupt construction, its purpose, and what your appointment actually entails, assuring you it's "self-explanatory." He'll gladly inform you that "people you know" are here for a visit, but won't say who or why or for how long. But you'll sign up for your appointment anyway, for one reason or another. Perhaps you don't even really know.
At the time of your appointment, you are sat down in a tasteful meeting space of your choosing (the options are listed below) and your guest is brought in. But it is not who you expect. In fact, in all likelihood, you do not know this person at all. But don't worry, they've been briefed, and they'll pass the information along to you if asked.
You see, you are not here to meet someone from your own past, at least not at first---- you're here to meet someone close to one of your friends or neighbors. And they're here to speak about that person to you.
Take as long as you need. The Visitor's Center does not close.
How It Works
Visitors.
Each offworlder on the island can have up to 2 "ghosts of their past." This is not meant to be literal, as these so-called ghosts will generally be no more dead than any other offworlder. Your ghost can be anyone who "haunts" you in some way, which can mean whatever makes sense to you. It does not necessarily need to be someone with a negative opinion of you--- it can be someone who loves you very much! This person can be from any point in your timeline, including after the incident that brought you to Pumpkin Hollow. It can also be a past version of yourself. Regardless, your own visitor is not actually the person you are here to meet. Your visitor will be meeting with one of your friends or loved ones from the island, and you will be meeting with someone else's "ghost."
When speaking to a "ghost", you will notice a few things about them. The first is that they do have a sense of where they are and what they're doing---- they know that they're here temporarily, and that they've been asked to speak about or on behalf of someone they know. They're aware of who the person is that they've come to speak about as well, and they seem to have all of their memories intact aside from being a little fuzzy on the actual process of getting here. The second is that in most cases, they seem to have regular needs like any living person. The upper floors of the visitor's center have hostel-like sleeping areas, bathrooms, a cafe, everything a person might need. The third is that they seem to be weirdly forthcoming when asked questions. Perhaps you're not familiar enough with the individual to notice such things at first, but it becomes evident that they're pretty open about the person they're there to speak about even when they don't seem to want to be.
Want to speak to your own visitor? That can be arranged--- but your ghost must speak to someone else first. But not to worry, there's plenty of time. (Despite the IC dates, OOCly this can be backtagged as long as desired!)
Each offworlder on the island can have up to 2 "ghosts of their past." This is not meant to be literal, as these so-called ghosts will generally be no more dead than any other offworlder. Your ghost can be anyone who "haunts" you in some way, which can mean whatever makes sense to you. It does not necessarily need to be someone with a negative opinion of you--- it can be someone who loves you very much! This person can be from any point in your timeline, including after the incident that brought you to Pumpkin Hollow. It can also be a past version of yourself. Regardless, your own visitor is not actually the person you are here to meet. Your visitor will be meeting with one of your friends or loved ones from the island, and you will be meeting with someone else's "ghost."
When speaking to a "ghost", you will notice a few things about them. The first is that they do have a sense of where they are and what they're doing---- they know that they're here temporarily, and that they've been asked to speak about or on behalf of someone they know. They're aware of who the person is that they've come to speak about as well, and they seem to have all of their memories intact aside from being a little fuzzy on the actual process of getting here. The second is that in most cases, they seem to have regular needs like any living person. The upper floors of the visitor's center have hostel-like sleeping areas, bathrooms, a cafe, everything a person might need. The third is that they seem to be weirdly forthcoming when asked questions. Perhaps you're not familiar enough with the individual to notice such things at first, but it becomes evident that they're pretty open about the person they're there to speak about even when they don't seem to want to be.
Want to speak to your own visitor? That can be arranged--- but your ghost must speak to someone else first. But not to worry, there's plenty of time. (Despite the IC dates, OOCly this can be backtagged as long as desired!)
Locations.
There are plenty of places to meet with visitors within the Visitor's Center. If you'd prefer a more public meeting space, some lounge areas have been set up on the beach, or the cafe or recreation area within the center are all available. The beach meeting spaces consist of clusters of folding beach chairs or picnic blankets, and while swimming season is largely over, the view from the beach continues to be stunning this month. The cafe is a quaint bistro on the rooftop of the center with a round serving station in the middle and outdoor tables around the outer walls, which feels both spacious and intimate at the same time somehow. And the recreation room is an interior space on the second floor full of spaces for communal games, some of which are too modern to be there. (Not electronics, but definitely Cards Against Humanity.)
If you'd prefer a more private space, there are a number of tasteful meeting rooms, including those with tables as if for a more formal meeting or those with couches or chairs. One of the latter sort even has a fireplace!
However, visitors are not able to go further afield than the beach. If they attempt to go into town, their feet will plant themselves firmly to the ground outside. They will not be able to be pushed or lifted to get around this, and anyone who attempts to force it will be summarily accosted by the staff and their appointment will end immediately. They may not be eligible for another.
There are plenty of places to meet with visitors within the Visitor's Center. If you'd prefer a more public meeting space, some lounge areas have been set up on the beach, or the cafe or recreation area within the center are all available. The beach meeting spaces consist of clusters of folding beach chairs or picnic blankets, and while swimming season is largely over, the view from the beach continues to be stunning this month. The cafe is a quaint bistro on the rooftop of the center with a round serving station in the middle and outdoor tables around the outer walls, which feels both spacious and intimate at the same time somehow. And the recreation room is an interior space on the second floor full of spaces for communal games, some of which are too modern to be there. (Not electronics, but definitely Cards Against Humanity.)
If you'd prefer a more private space, there are a number of tasteful meeting rooms, including those with tables as if for a more formal meeting or those with couches or chairs. One of the latter sort even has a fireplace!
However, visitors are not able to go further afield than the beach. If they attempt to go into town, their feet will plant themselves firmly to the ground outside. They will not be able to be pushed or lifted to get around this, and anyone who attempts to force it will be summarily accosted by the staff and their appointment will end immediately. They may not be eligible for another.
Rules.
As far as OOC rules go, there are a few perks and limitations worth knowing. Any "ghosts" that you write are eligible for AC bonuses for the characters they are attached to. If you are writing a ghost for another player's character, you may decide where the AC bonus goes, but please make a note on your activity check indicating what you're doing. You may write your ghost from your existing journal (with or without a unique icon for that ghost, just as long as you make it clear), or create an independent journal for the character. As mentioned before, you can absolutely play a ghost for someone else. If you would like to have a non-member friend drop by to play your ghost, you may absolutely do so if you clear it with a mod, preferably by having said friend send the mod journal a PM. Be aware that if you recruit an outside player to write a ghost for you, you are responsible for their behavior, and any AC-length threads on their end will not be eligible for transfer because that will just kill Drake probably.
Characters appearing from Ghosts of the Past can also appear in the Villain's Lounge or be apped in later as permanent characters (but not both, as the two are mutually exclusive) and will have some unique lore from entering the game this way!
Ghosts are not capable of lying and will generally feel more compelled to be forthcoming when speaking to anyone OTHER than the person they're here to represent. However, they cannot be forced to meet with anyone they do not want to see or to answer questions they adamantly do not wish to answer. The compulsions are relatively subtle. They also do not have to volunteer information they weren't asked for if they don't want to. None of these compulsions are present if they speak to the person they are there to see. Their memories are generally accurate to whatever point you bring them from, meaning that they can be whatever you want.
If you're visiting with your own ghost, please be aware that threads between two characters played by the same person are never eligible for AC and this is still the case in this instance.
As far as OOC rules go, there are a few perks and limitations worth knowing. Any "ghosts" that you write are eligible for AC bonuses for the characters they are attached to. If you are writing a ghost for another player's character, you may decide where the AC bonus goes, but please make a note on your activity check indicating what you're doing. You may write your ghost from your existing journal (with or without a unique icon for that ghost, just as long as you make it clear), or create an independent journal for the character. As mentioned before, you can absolutely play a ghost for someone else. If you would like to have a non-member friend drop by to play your ghost, you may absolutely do so if you clear it with a mod, preferably by having said friend send the mod journal a PM. Be aware that if you recruit an outside player to write a ghost for you, you are responsible for their behavior, and any AC-length threads on their end will not be eligible for transfer because that will just kill Drake probably.
Characters appearing from Ghosts of the Past can also appear in the Villain's Lounge or be apped in later as permanent characters (but not both, as the two are mutually exclusive) and will have some unique lore from entering the game this way!
Ghosts are not capable of lying and will generally feel more compelled to be forthcoming when speaking to anyone OTHER than the person they're here to represent. However, they cannot be forced to meet with anyone they do not want to see or to answer questions they adamantly do not wish to answer. The compulsions are relatively subtle. They also do not have to volunteer information they weren't asked for if they don't want to. None of these compulsions are present if they speak to the person they are there to see. Their memories are generally accurate to whatever point you bring them from, meaning that they can be whatever you want.
If you're visiting with your own ghost, please be aware that threads between two characters played by the same person are never eligible for AC and this is still the case in this instance.
Staff.
Last but not least, there's a chance that you may encounter the staff of the Visitor's Center around. There are two men and two women--- Daanon, Caspian, Reyelle, and Nephera, respectively. Those here in February may recognize them from Merrymeet. They look fairly normal, generally appearing as humans (or an elf, in Nephera's case), but in reality they are the members of the Court of Betrayal. Whenever they speak about their "Manager," they are referring to Eligos. However, this is not immediately obvious, especially to those not familiar with these particular demons. If you know, you know! [ I will be keeping my demon thread load super light, so please feel free to handwave interactions with them as you see fit! If you want a demon thread, please reach out to me for plotting. -Rose ]
Last but not least, there's a chance that you may encounter the staff of the Visitor's Center around. There are two men and two women--- Daanon, Caspian, Reyelle, and Nephera, respectively. Those here in February may recognize them from Merrymeet. They look fairly normal, generally appearing as humans (or an elf, in Nephera's case), but in reality they are the members of the Court of Betrayal. Whenever they speak about their "Manager," they are referring to Eligos. However, this is not immediately obvious, especially to those not familiar with these particular demons. If you know, you know! [ I will be keeping my demon thread load super light, so please feel free to handwave interactions with them as you see fit! If you want a demon thread, please reach out to me for plotting. -Rose ]
CODE BY MARWOOD
no subject
"I'll tell you- it was just the craziest thing. I met this girl who looked just like you, but she had the worst attitude I've ever met, and I've met some rotten eggs in my day. All weird and spooky and mysterious. Kept acting like she knew you but wouldn't tell me how- you didn't happen to have a bad break-up with someone who looks exactly like you, did you?"
no subject
It's funny when you look down and realize you've been walking on glass. Hairline fractures forming where you're standing. It's all going to give way. There's no edge to hold onto. Not for miles and miles in any direction. You're going to fall. You're going to keep falling. Who knows when you'll hit the ground?
The murky fog, and a surge of something else. If she's harmed you I swear I'll kill her I'll rip out her heart with my hands I'll keep her alive and make her drown in her own bile I'll-
"...I know who she is. This...isn't something I want to talk about with the stones. Mine or yours, either."
What has she said. What did she say. What else could she have said?
no subject
"Come to mine. Have I mentioned lately I hate all this magic crap?"
no subject
Somehow, there's still a note of warmth in that, even as she barely recognizes her own voice as coming from her mouth. She doesn't know how she manages the walk over, she barely recalls a moment of it, moving automatically. But this day has been coming, hasn't it. Radar's started to treat her differently at work, like he thinks she'll unhinge her jaw and eat him alive. And she knows why, what must have been said. Gods only know what's going to happen now, when Hawkeye knows.
Maybe this could have been avoided, had she gone when Valdis told her she was there. But it's equally likely it couldn't have.
When she's at his door, seeing his face makes that strangely light feeling come back, waiting for the glass to break. She tries to smile, but it doesn't quite make it to her face. Waits until the door shuts before she can ask the question she needs to.
"What did she say to you?"
no subject
"That you're some kind of mass murdered looking to wait until my drawers are down to stab me in the back. What- what's going on, Fee?"
no subject
"Hawk...she was wrong. But she was also right. What she told you, save the part about ever hurting you-"
Freefall. Waiting to hit the ground. Words that will sear everything. And for some reason saying them feels like dying, even though she knew this would happen all along.
"I have killed so many people. I remember enough to say that for certain."
no subject
"So what- the adventurer thing was a lie? The amnesia part? What- does Phil know?"
no subject
"None of it was a lie, Hawkeye." There's something strained in her voice, and she feels like her body wants to fall apart. That same longing for a single fucking tear to escape her and prove her sincerity. "None of it."
And she doesn't know if Phil knows. She doesn't know if he figured it out with enough of what she said or if somehow that godsdamned restored version of herself got to him too, and she's set to tear down everything. Gods. She knew this day was going to come, but she didn't want it to come now. It's too early, it's not the right time.
(It would always be too early.)
no subject
Those Goddesses put him on this God-forsaken island specifically to do this to him. Dangle people in front of his nose, and gut him with them. That nice man and his lovely wife, murderers. That girl he likes, mass-murderer. He'll probably get a call from Phil or Radar or Rambo or Gaeta or someone saying 'hey Hawk, by the way, I eat babies to live', and he'll just have to deal with that. Feel his sense of morals and decency twisting in his chest like metal in a train wreck. Hell- depending on the day and how generous he's feeling, Hawk is a murderer now! He led people in the style of the pied piper to their deaths twice now. That's all that seems to be on this island, just... death and more death, a grotesque mockery of the world he's from. Sure, they were up to their knees in wounded there too, but at least there things made sense. There was a home to go back to, where people mostly died of old age or misadventure and not murder, not guns, not- not-
Ah hell.
Fever almost sounds like she's really sad about it. In a moment she'll say something about how everyone she mass-murdered was a terrible awful person and Hawk will just have to believe her and pretend like it isn't strangling something in him. Better cut to the chase, even with his stomach churning.
"Hey- Fee, it's alright," he reaches to comfort her, "it doesn't matter."
no subject
"Please." Her head minutely shakes. Don't pretend it's fine. Don't act like it's not disgusting. Don't act like it's not the complete antithesis to everything he stands for, everything he is, everything he was trying to do in the war and before and after and here as well.
"I need to talk. And I need you to listen to me until I'm done, and then say whatever you want. Whatever questions, anything."
Do whatever you want. Tell her to leave, and never so much as glance his way again. Curse her name, blacken her reputation to the entire town. It doesn't matter. She'll live out in the woods or something and have one of the few people who are also monsters bring her supplies.
It hurts so much, and she can't figure out why. Why, when she was planning for it all this time.
no subject
no subject
The statement bursts from her, and her head's jerked up, some mix of anguish and frustration in her eyes, gods she's got to calm down, she's not the one wronged here-
"It's not and there's nothing at all that makes it better or palatable or fixes one bit of it! Nothing about it is okay or forgivable and I know that. Okay? I know that, and it's not as though I came in here ready to ask you if you'd abandon every principle you ever possessed and somehow excuse it. It matters."
She's as tense as if she's going to spring up and start pacing. Maybe she will, if she can't calm down enough.
no subject
Hawk rubs his face with his hand. His freak-out isn't entirely over but he needs to ride this depression in it if he wants to have any chance of finishing this conversation and not just curling into a ball like a pillbug.
"Alright. Fine. Tell me they were all assholes who had it coming, please just get it over with, I can't handle the suspense."
no subject
"I don't know. I don't know if any of them had it coming. I'm willing to bet that a lot of them didn't."
Her eyes drop away from his, more unable to sustain more eye contact than trying to avoid him. This feels like she has to perform a surgery on herself, opening herself up layer by layer until he can see that the rot's in her core, too deep for any scalpel to remove, any medicine to cure.
"There is something wrong with me. It's...bound up in a lot of magic crap. But the simplest way to explain it is that I have these thoughts that tell me to hurt people. Torment them, violently. They pressure me toward pain and bloodshed, impulses that would sicken you if I said them aloud. There's always this lurking sort of urge that's somewhere in me and wants to hurt everyone. Of my past, what's come back has been enough that I can piece something together. It's never gone away. Never really gets quiet. Sometimes it's been so strong that I'm no longer the one telling my body what to do. And at some point, I started listening. Stopped fighting them. Realized what I was made for."
Her hand's crept up to fiddle with her pendant, while everything else stays still. Destruction's what I'm good for, she's said to him. She's never wavered on that point.
"I don't know how many people. I don't know how long this went on. I just have enough pieces to say I was someone with great power who used it in the worst ways. Even if not every corpse in my pile was felled by my hand, they were still my responsibility. Getting stabbed in the head was probably the best thing to happen to me, for the sake of everyone else."
It needed to happen. It probably should have killed her, if she'd had any dignity or shame.
"Losing my memory made me start fighting it all again. Trying anything, everything that's come across my path to make it stop, to get it under control, to do something. Anything. Even now, there are plans for things to try. And safeguards for everyone else."
no subject
"Why?" is all he can ask.
no subject
"If I say it, it'll sound impossible. Or like I'm making some kind of excuse. I...don't want that."
The chain around her neck subtly goes taut. She can feel it when she swallows. If nothing else, let Hawkeye understand this. The blame is hers, and she knows, and she accepts it. No excuses. No looking away from it, no downplaying it. The truth is the truth.
"It's...there's a version of the answer that goes into the realm of magic. There is a version that does not."
His choice.
no subject
"Just tell me, Fee."
cw: parental abuse, thoughts of self harm
Or her arm coming down over and over and over into a body, until she was exhausted, until there was nothing left to really cut, to sleep blanketed in gore and filth like the creature she is. Nothing close to a person, there. No chance of being mistaken for one. Intoxicate herself on death and lose her mind in the high of it all, until the inevitable comedown. And then do it again, and again, and give up all over again.
(Fee. How can Hawkeye still call her that? Why can't he just curse her name and hate her for the rest of his days? Keep her as a bad memory that time and liquor will fade out.)
"...it's my father. My real father, not the one I call such here. He has a hold on me, through our shared blood. He wants me to be like this - the pieces I put together say that much. That it was accepted. Encouraged. Required." Fever's one free hand flexes, while the other keeps the necklace chain where it is. "I've felt what happens when I've refused his commands. When he exerts his will. Every bit of control stripped away."
Pain and incoherence and the sense that she's dying, flooded with every bit of hate that her body can hold, and the only thing that will save her is someone else's life. Sickness and suffering and her heart struggling to beat, and she would have torn everyone to shreds if she hadn't been sufficiently restrained. Eventually, you stop saying no, she thinks. If you want to hold onto any scrap of yourself. If that was even a taste of what he could do.
"I was shaped by him. Made for this sort of thing, to be his heir. His vessel for his will to be inflicted on the world. It's not the sort of bond you lose just because you slipped away to another world or two. Not with his power. Not when it's so deep that it's part of me."
Not a curse. Not a disease. Not something that can be so neatly cured and fixed and set right. But her, all her, every time. She could have fought harder, gotten herself killed off and spared the world her crimes, could have done anything rather than pick up the role he built her for. It is still her fault. At a point, when are the thoughts placed there, and when are they simply encouraged? All he really does is amplify her own longings. All she does is think about it, and it becomes worse.
"Gods, I've tried, even before I knew what it was. Medicine, spells, drugs, pain, meditation, psychic parasites, flooding my own head with so much in the hopes that it'll drown my thoughts out. I even let Jean kill me to see if there was something, anything that could be gained to control myself better than I currently am. To not live like...this."
At risk of collapse. Just because he hasn't acted recently doesn't mean she doesn't live in fear of when he decides to reclaim his errant property.
cw reference to gore
"YOU'RE CHRIST FOR MURDER?!"
He feels like he's going nuts. Hey, this beautiful dame was born to inherit the throne of the God of murder. Good luck, Hawk! He's been prepared for some strange situations but this- he doesn't even know what to be angry at. The concept of magic, maybe, Fever, definitely, her father, certainly, himself? Jury's out. Worse than going nuts. Worse than when he's had pranks played on him, worse than that time Tommy kept swapping milk cartons with him and insisting that he was just misremembering how much milk he'd drunk. This whole island is one big damn joke and Hawk isn't laughing anymore. And he slept with her- was she imagining him with his throat slit under her the whole time? The hand on his belly tangled up in his intestines? Oh sure, she wants to not do that anymore, he buys it- he genuinely does, he has to, this is Fever he's talking about- but what? She feels bad, so it goes away? There's craters in Korea where villages used to be that would say otherwise. Hawk is a man who loves peace, Goddamnit, he loves life and the beating of a human heart like nothing else, why did he have to fall in love with a war?
Hawk's manicured nails drag down the back of his neck.
"Give- give me a minute. Just give me a minute. I need you to give me a minute."
no subject
Someone finally hates her as they should. Why does she feel like she can breathe easier?
Hawk asks for a minute, and he'll have as long as he wants. She's silent, contained, accepting his words without any rebuttal of her own. The answer is a foregone conclusion for her. It's the equivalent of closing one's eyes before a candle's blown out, adjusting to darkness so that the transition is not so sudden. Don't look at him. Don't move. Don't ask for him to say anything more than a request to keep her distance. That's fair. That's reasoned. That's more than she deserves.
A better woman would have destroyed herself by now. A better woman would leave his space, and remove herself from his life. She can only bring herself to keep breathing. Even if she abandoned all weapons and sealed away her magic and cloistered herself from any other soul, it wouldn't change what happened. Just because the graves don't exist in this world doesn't mean they don't exist. Hells, a better woman would have kept herself away from him, protected him from ever drawing near. And here she was, staying near anyway.
Gods. She wouldn't doubt if the first thing he does after telling her to go is to take a shower and scrub away everywhere they ever touched. He should forget her name, remove it from his mind, shrapnel out of a wound. It will heal over.
cw metaphors of unsanitary nature + graphic disease descriptions
"Fever, c'mere-"
He never experienced it, but he's heard of hazings during dissections. You stick your finger somewhere in a corpse, somewhere you shouldn't, the idea being that nothing further can disgust you. He wonders if sticking his tongue into Fever's mouth will do the same.
cw: graphic injury descriptions
At least when the headaches come in, there's something to point at and say here, it hurts here. Something to blame. Something that pulses and writhes and claws at her skull, and it makes sense.
(No one tells you what to do, crawling from the pod, head a white and blank center so agonized you can barely make out sound, where there's only scraps that must be held onto until they're embedded into your skin. Rough done stitches that barely hold organs in, a deep and ragged cut made with inferior materials, blood seeping through dark robes, a wordless howl the only response you can give. If it gives way, everything will fall out on the floor, insides without again. There is no help, there is no kindness, only a struggle to live, as it always has been. A scar like a signal - cut here, and finish the job.)
Maybe that's why it was easy to tear apart that shadow double, formed of loss. She no longer remembers who pulled her back, murmuring I don't think they're getting up while her hands were soaked in blood that isn't her blood, trembling and thinking it isn't enough.
It's been sixty seconds. It's been sixty minutes. All Fever knows is that she hears his voice and looks up, looks his way, trying to burn his image into her memory.
"Hawkeye?"
no subject
"Get out."
no subject
Silence. You don't get rewarded for meeting the bare minimum standards of playing at personhood. You don't get to argue your case and show the fucking monster you are and have it both ways. You are not the victim here. You will say nothing about this to anyone, because if you cannot dig enough graves for the mountain of corpses you made, you don't get to dig your own. Swallow it. Shameless. You disgusting, self-pitying wretch. Swallow it.
(When she does, she feels the phantom pressure of Cobalt Scar against her throat.)
Fever's silent as she rises to obey. Doesn't want to know what she looks like. Doesn't want to give him a reason to say anything louder.
At the doorway, she hesitates, a fraction of a moment. Dares to flick her eyes backward, looking for him at the very corner of her gaze. But there is nothing she can say or do. There is nothing one can do. Stepping out, the door sounds so loud when it closes.
The keen eared might notice that her steps do not immediately begin moving away. There is a moment of pure silence, before they start again.