In spite of all your love, you fear what I've become | OTA

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

Who: Leon S. Kennedy (nothingbadeverhappensto) and anyone who dares intervene
What: Leon's No Good Horrible Very Bad Month comes to a head, in the wake of revisiting all his worst nightmares
When: Mid-November, throughout the day
Where: Around downtown, the Oak and Iron, in an alley near the Oak and Iron
Warnings: Alcohol abuse, emeto/nausea, disordered eating, allusions to cannibalism, possibly other references to the Fear event in threads

I. That shadow on your mind [ On Patrol, Downtown ][ OTA ]

[ CW: disordered eating, nausea ]

Leon is... okay.

He rolls out of bed in the morning before the sunrise (barely slept, again), brushes his teeth, and hesitates in the kitchen for a moment (stomach turning at the mere thought of checking the icebox) before deciding to skip breakfast (again) and go for a run. He's tired, but he's pushed through worse. The exercise helps clear his head, at least, and he does a lap around the neighborhood, taking some solace in seeing the occasional light on in his neighbors' houses (there are still people there, he's not alone) before returning home to take a shower and get dressed for work.

Throughout the day, he can be found on his regular patrol route around downtown Pumpkin Hollow, having resumed his old routine as opposed to burying himself in case files all day like he had been before... all of that. It's good to get out, after all. It's good to see how people are recovering. His uniform is neatly pressed and he makes an effort to smile and nod to passers-by, stopping by anyone who looks confused or concerned or otherwise in need of assistance that a constable or neighbor can provide.

(One could be forgiven for missing the sleeplessness in his eyes, or the slight tremor to his hands from the hunger pangs. But it's fine. He's fine.)

II. It's growing all the time [ The Oak and Iron ][ OTA ]

[ CW: disordered eating, nausea, allusions to cannibalism, alcohol abuse ]

The day wears on, and per his usual habits Leon finishes his shift and heads to the Oak and Iron for a hot meal and a stiff drink.

Or a stiff drink, at least. The moment he walks in the door he's met with the smell of cooked pork (not what he thought it was, at first) and nearly turns around and walks back out, but it's fine. He's a big boy, he can handle it. It's fine. Powering through the way his mouth waters unpleasantly at the scent (sick and hungry, both at once), he takes a seat at the table furthest from the kitchen and orders a glass of whiskey.

"...Leave the bottle," he says to the barmaid after thinking it over for a moment, passing her the extra brass and a hefty tip. The first glass he knocks back quickly, and the second, but from the third onwards at least he nurses them more slowly. (Not quite savoring the taste, but trying to make it last, self-conscious about the temptation to just slam the whole bottle and see if that drowns any of it out.)

Over the course of the evening, the bottle empties steadily. Leon, notably, does not order food at any point, but he does wind up with a second bottle somewhere along the line. As it drains, too, he slumps lower and lower until his head is resting on the table, idly swirling the dregs at the bottom of his glass, watching the amber liquid slosh back and forth with an exhausted expression. (Seems even despite all that, he can't sleep.)

III. If this is killing me, you can't be the one to tell me [ An alleyway, near the Oak and Iron ][ OTA ]

[ CW: emeto, allusions to cannibalism, and NPC (temporary) death, alcohol abuse, disordered eating ]

It's somewhere around closing time when one of the barmaids, assuming Leon is unconscious from the way he's sprawled face down on the table, reaches out to shake him by the shoulder and tell him it's time to leave. He jolts upright, hand flying to grab for a missing weapon in a shoulder holster that he isn't wearing, and stares up at her, wild-eyed -

- and recognizes her. Remembers her. Watching her run from him in the woods by the Leeds Estate, warped and twisted as they were, and she was too slow to outpace him by far, so easily caught and crushed in his claws and her blood and flesh and bone marrow was so much sweeter than anything he'd previously imagined -

Leon flips the table over in his hurry to get out from behind it as he watches the recognition dawn on her face as well, pale and afraid. He tries to apologize, to say he's sorry, but he chokes on the words and bolts for the door, nearly bowling over another patron as they try to leave. Breaking into a dead sprint, he makes it down a nearby alleyway before the situation (the hunger, the disgust) catches up with him. He collapses to his knees, retching bile and whiskey onto the cobblestones as he tries to forget the taste of blood, blood, blood.

(Leon is not okay.)

IV. I just want you to know, I finally can let this go [ Wildcard ]
[ Need something else? Feel free to DM me at quodvide on Discord or PM this journal!! Note that some timesoup will apply to all threads just so no one is locked out of getting through to Leon if they tag earlier in the day.]

Comments

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

"Yeah. Think we're all still feeling pretty bad after all of that," Leon admits, his smile growing just a little more genuine, if still weary. He appreciates the honesty, and the reminder that he's not unique in feeling kind of wretched right now. Not that he wants other people to feel as bad as he does, but there's some solidarity to be had, at least.

In any case, he does get caught up on one thing - blinking in confusion as he tries to figure out if he's missing something or if he just needs a second for his brain to catch up through the haze of alcohol.

"Gaslit?" he asks, deciding that it sounds like the first one. "What's that mean?"

He can guess from context that it's probably nothing good, but as he and everyone else learned last month, there's so many different flavors of not good out there. He frowns, looking concerned.

[chenpathy]

Alex blows air. "Oh, boy, what's the best way to explain that one... uh. Lied to and manipulated in a way specifically designed to undermine your own idea of reality? Telling you something didn't happen the way you know it happened. Making you question your sanity. That kind of thing."

Which somehow feels too light for what actually happened in here, the sheer extent of it like nothing any normal person could ever have inflicted, but the old words are all they have. She's certainly not feeling well enough to come up with new ones.

"I spent about half my life in the system and let's just say that gave it... a lot, to work with."

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

"Huh. That's a handy term. Might have to adopt that one." It's not as relevant to Leon's life as he could easily see it being to some others', but situations occasionally arise. "Sorry to hear that, though. I can see that being..."

He trails off, searching for the right words and frowning as he thinks it over.

"Honestly? One of the scarier things out there." Not being able to trust your own judgment or perceptions is bad enough on its own, but having it happen because someone or something is actively trying to undermine them? Ugh. He wrinkles his nose, sympathetic. It may not be one of his deep seated, all-consuming fears, but he can certainly see how it could be for someone else.

"On the bright side, I'm glad it hasn't put you off the food here. There's a lot of things worse than trying to process bad shit happening on an empty stomach, but that doesn't make it a good idea."

Says the man who appears to be having a bottle of hard liquor for dinner but look. Look.

[chenpathy]

"It wasn't great." Understatement of the century, but it's that or have an emotional reaction she's got no intention of having. "I'm definitely still struggling to trust my senses more than I used to. Feels like being a teenager again and that wasn't exactly the best time of my life."

(Is it anyone's? Well, probably, the phrase 'peaked in high school' exists for a reason, she supposes.)

"But yeah, not eating definitely wouldn't improve things. Small mercies."

There's effort put into making that not sound like a direct commentary on his own lack of food. Definitely something going on, here. Maybe if she's subtle enough she can tap in and see?

Beneath the table, she stretches her fingers into the edge of the aura radiating off of him, as her other hand busies itself scooping up rice and vegetables with her fork to eat.

cw: references to cannibalism, zombies, parasitism, uncontrollable hunger

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

"Ugh. You have my sympathies," Leon says, regarding the comment about feeling like a teenager again. He may not have the full context of what's going on there for Alex, but he does know his own high school years were a confusing mess at the best of times.

In any case, he averts his eyes when she agrees with him, glancing off over her shoulder in a way that's half 'yes I know I'm a hypocrite' despite her pointed lack of judgment and half idly scanning the room for threats out of habit. Unfortunately his gaze happens to fall on a plate of venison one of the other diners is eating, and before he can catch himself he grimaces, looking back down at his hands.

A man with rotting skin tearing into a policeman's neck, pulling sinew and flesh and muscle from his shoulder with his teeth. A human hand in a pot of hunter's stew, the parasite latched onto his spine writhing and shouting secondhand hunger into his brain. Olivia's table stacked high with meat, glistening and fresh, his own severed arm on display and he's so, so unnaturally hungry.

His stomach growls, and he downs what's left in his glass.

[chenpathy]

The aura around him surges and Alex breathes, stretching the hand beneath the table just a little further until she can really feel it. Disgust the likes of which she's never felt, the taste of meat and iron in the air, all of it growing stronger and stronger as she leans into the feeling until it blooms.

The aura expands to cover the entire room and Alex sits within a new version of the world.