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

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Alex nods, quietly. "I think so. I've... talked to a few people," more than a few, and more than really just talked, "about it all now, and something I said to one of them was how no matter how bad he felt for the things he did, it only happened because he was forced to face the absolute worst circumstances designed to make him feel exactly the way he did then."

Everyone's fears are different. And yet there is a root to how they were manipulated that she can see in every emotional echo left behind. What happened to them all was laser-precision targeted.

"And I think that's true of all of us. What it looks like is different, but... whatever was behind all of that totally nailed us on our worst thoughts about ourselves. And I don't think that has to mean anything about who we actually are. You know?"

"Yeah..." It's... not going to be easy to internalize that, but Leon has to admit it makes sense. Not often that circumstances and also possibly demons literally conspire to make you your worst self, and the question of whether what you do when that does happen is actually representative of anything is way above his philosophical pay grade. "Maybe there's something reassuring about... I don't know. Knowing it only gets that bad when something's pushing us."

Some of the monstrous, bulging eyes embedded in his muscle fibers start to recede, closing over and disappearing. However, all the others people in the room remain fleshless and spun-glass delicate as ever, like the slightest breeze could tear them apart. A skull sits on the shelf behind Leon, too small to be an adult's - yet a man's voice emanates from nearby; You're a cop. You're supposed to know something - how did this happen, huh?

"...Just. Wish there were something we could do about it. Stop it from happening again." Something he could do, to feel less useless.

"Yeah," Alex laughs, emptily. "That'd sure be nice. I... don't have a solution for that, I'm just a girl from Portland, but I think the next best thing is being prepared to handle the aftermath. As best as we can, anyway."

Easier said than done, even for her (especially for her, when it comes to herself, anyway) but... she chews her lip, glancing around the room in a casual, avoidant-about-eye-contact sort of way as she takes in the shifting space.

"These things are going to keep happening. In... one form, or another. And we're going to keep getting hurt, and keep being pushed to be versions of ourselves we aren't at our core. And I don't think we ever have to be okay with that. But... if we know that's what's happening, maybe it'll be easier."

Leon pauses again, blinking owlishly at Alex.

"What do you mean I can't expect random women I meet in bars to have all the answers?" he asks, feigning wide-eyed and innocent confusion. The symbolic eyes lining his form, on the other hand, start to blink closed slowly, as if falling asleep. Clearly he's feeling better enough to make stupid jokes. "No, but. I think you might be right."

He takes a deep breath, sitting back in his chair and staring up at the corner of the room behind her. "Not to be corny about it, but sometimes the only thing to do is learn... how to handle stuff like this, and do damage control for the parts we couldn't handle."

Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. Didn't he hear that from someone, somewhere along the line?

"...Thanks. Uh, for talking to me. I appreciate it." He's not going to get over this in a single conversation, but he does have some things to think about now that aren't an endless spiral of self-recrimination. So there's that.

"Hey, it's no problem. I don't mind. Honestly, just... talking to people is what I do best, anyway."

The joke is a good sign. The emotion won't retreat entirely, not something as big as this, but... what she can do, she's done, and that's not nothing.

"Hey, it's an underrated skill," says Leon, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "It... helped."

Hard to feel like it, when he still feels as awful as he does, but that's measurably less awful than the weight he'd been crushing himself under beforehand.

"I'm gonna go get some calories in me that aren't, you know, liquid." He gestures with the bottle, shaking his head and sighing. Again, he's gonna regret his coping mechanisms tomorrow for sure. "Be back in a minute."

"Good plan. And I'm— glad. That it helped."

She really is. She's always waiting for the day that another attempt to help fails entirely, like it did with Charlotte, and... she's not sure what to do when that happens. Backing off might be the right call, sometimes, but it doesn't feel good.

Not a question she has to wrangle today. She settles down to continue eating her own food, and breathes a sigh of relief.

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

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cw: non-graphic allusion to child death

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