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[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

Characters: Henry Townshend and you.
Setting: Floor Thirteen.
Format: Starting with prose, will match responses!
Summary: Synopsis and exploration, Henry is once again left with too many questions and no reason why.
Warnings: Possible disturbing imagery, oh SH protags and their memories. Also TL;DR.


The sleep paralysis had been the worst part. When his eyes wouldn't open when he felt himself snap awake, expecting to see the ceiling of his newly moved into apartment. His mind had worked over time the longer the seconds dragged on, keeping him still in the dark and he saw the stark red lines of veins running through his walls, sickly mounds forming on top of them, pulsating and squelching, distracting, until a gray skeletal hand suddenly ripped it's way through --

and then his vision was flooded with light and he was greeted to a sight sadly no more comforting than the nightmare he lived through. A strange room with three untouched beds, a trunk with some of his things, and two pieces of paper that explained very little of the things he needed to know.

Let's all be happy here?

Henry had hoped he was finally finished with strangeness and misfortune once he had helped Eileen move out and gotten a new place of his own.

His first day had been a quiet one, of following the letters advice and going to the cafeteria, taking stock of his things (getting out of that suit) and everything he knew. It wasn't much and his list of answers was rather short. There were other people here that he could talk to, ask questions of, but unable to stop feeling the collar around his neck -- what had he become, a pet -- he decided to take more time for himself.

So today he is exploring and without a trace of irony he can't seem to leave the thirteenth floor.

He wasn't expecting a cathedral. Then again, when had anything that happened to him in the last month been expected? Not a particularly religious man, Henry's still always found the aesthetic appeal of churches. There's a peaceful quality they seem to emit too, even when one is lacking in faith. That church in Silent Hill had done the same, his last visit, despite the evil the town itself housed. Was it even really the town or just the people that had come out of it? He still didn't know and the pictures he once hung up with pleasure were abandoned quickly in the trash.

...did any of that even matter? He didn't have a shred of evidence that town was also the reason he was here now. His world was destroyed? How could that even be true? He feels so tired, he ends up taking a seat in the back.

"What am I doing here...?"

Comments

[lethechained.livejournal.com]

Exploring seemed to be a fairly common choice among newcomers in this place, but it was not the choice that Naminé had made for herself that morning. Instead, she'd taken to the art supplies that she'd been left. But when she'd realized that, in light of recent events, all of the subjects from which she usually worked seemed... wrong to use, at a time like that, and she'd found herself left to her own devices to an extent that was thoroughly unfamiliar. It was so strange, trying to figure out what she wanted to do. Her cage had suddenly gotten so big, and yet it was hard for her to wrap her head around the idea that she was able to walk right out the door of her room.

So when she finally did, she wasn't sure where to go. The only way TO go seemed to be down, since there wasn't much to see above but more rooms that belonged to other people, so down she went. She hadn't gotten far when she found that she had company. The cathedral was definitely a strange place-- the stillness was eerie and reminiscent of the world where she was 'born' in a way that was unsettling, and yet at the same time the quietly powerful feeling it seemed to give off was almost comforting. It was a place she'd wanted to see again, but upon discovering that there was another person there, she began to have second thoughts. The third thoughts that came after those reminded her that just because there was someone else there didn't mean she had to go. No one here had power over her, as hard as that was to grasp. So, stay she did. She made an effort to pay as little (visible) attention to the other visitor as she could, but she couldn't help clasping her hands together for comfort as she passed them by, uncertain whether she should make some attempt to acknowledge them or not and choosing, for the moment, not to.

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

Being in the cathedral had made him feel small as time went on, so big and powerful in it's own right.

Henry wasn't one for prayer, there wasn't much solace to be found when you didn't have anyone to pray too. He did take a brief moment to reflect, on what he'd been doing two days ago. Had anything seemed unusual, out of the ordinary? But what signs were there to look for to try and avert this, whatever this was, a kidnapping, an elaborate hoax, supernatural forces beyond his understanding? It had happened before, being tossed into the unknown and it made stomaching this easier, in the same way going into a stabbing knowing how the pain feels from the first time.

He grimaces slightly, looking up from his shoes and towards the vast walls surrounding him. It's a place he would definitely like to take pictures of, if he had his camera.

...why did they send him here with that axe but not his camera? He's not looking forward to what that might mean.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost misses the footsteps until they pass right by him. He turns his head slightly to glance to the other side of him and he sees the new visitor. A young woman, with a collar just like his. The collar still bothers him, makes him feel watched and kept and a little sick at wondering just how many people are here.

He's yet to talk to anyone here and he thinks he might say something, except if she's visiting for a personal reason, maybe a prayer, he doesn't want to interrupt.

[lethechained.livejournal.com]

Naminé came to a stop in one of the aisles, letting her eyes drift over the architecture, search the high ceilings, glance along the floor, but even her attempts to throw herself into her scrutiny did not help her feel comfortable with another person about and out of her sight. Never before had the presence of someone else near her been something benign. Even here, she had to wonder if it ever truly would be, when so much about this tower was unknown. After what seemed like a while to her but was really not much time at all, she turned slowly, carefully to look in another direction. From that angle, she could see the other person in the room, and tried her best to get a look at them out of the corner of her eye rather than focusing on them.

It was a man, which was what she'd assumed at first. His coloration seemed almost muted, by the standards of what she was used to; there was no wild hairstyle or vivid hair color, and she couldn't even tell what his eyes looked like from there. It was actually a little bit of a relief, to realize that this person was different from what she was used to, at least in appearance. Of course, she'd expected the others to be unlike what she'd seen before, because she was well aware that she'd lived an abnormal life. Maybe that was what finally encouraged her to chance a glance his direction, trying to get a better idea of what she was to expect from the others trapped there.

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

Muted. It was an accurate word in some ways. He kept his appearance simple, no loud designs or colors. His demeanor was quiet as well and Henry had never been the type to show up immediately on another person's radar. He didn't seek attention but he was always aware of it, a prickle runs under his skin when he feels eyes on him.

He redirects his attention back on her, grateful to find her gaze isn't scrutinizing and after a breath, Henry rises to his feet slowly. Several steps in her direction, he begins to speak but realizes how soft his voice sounds even to his own ears. Brow furrowing slightly, despite getting closer he raises his voice, finding it barely comes out of his mouth at a manageable level.

...weird.

"Excuse me, do you... can I ask you something?"

[lethechained.livejournal.com]

His movements, though slow, made her jump inwardly, a small rush of adrenaline shooting through her. Instead of moving away, though, she froze up, growing absolutely still for a good few seconds until she managed to get it across to her brain that it was wrong to assume that this person was going to try to hurt her. Outwardly, she showed little sign of her surprise or tension at first, although as she turned to face him her movements were slow and cautious, her attention rapt. She had no reason to worry. No reason. Nobody knew her, here. Most people didn't want to hurt total strangers for no reason, and she knew it, it was just... a little hard to get across to the part of her mind that would probably always be lost in the time when there were no such strangers.

She could tell he was trying to speak to her, but she couldn't hear what at first, and had no intention of moving closer herself. Once she did hear, however, she found it was a relatively unoffensive question. She took only a moment longer than most would have to consider it before nodding slowly.

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

Henry's gestures were kept close to his own body when he spoke. Did she look nervous? Not a stranger to the feeling, he thought if she had any reason to be. He was a stranger, in an even stranger place and he didn't know what sort of people were here in general. It was an odd thought to think of himself as threatening.

"How long have you been here?"

[lethechained.livejournal.com]

There was a faint twitch to her brow as it started to knit before she tried to stop it, then gave up. Her confusion was lightly present on her face before it relaxed away; that was not a question she'd been expecting. There didn't seem to be any harm in answering, so she did so without hesitation. "...I got here yesterday," was what she tried to say, but even she realized it wasn't loud enough, so she repeated herself with a higher volume. Then, because a question like that seemed to warrant a copy of itself in return, "How long have you been here?"

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

"Around the same time..." He brings his hand up to his mouth while he thinks. She was new too, he hadn't considered how often or when new arrivals came in.

It had been confusing, frightening. Part of him upon waking up with full control of his body had hoped it was another dream, demented and unfunny that would leave him feeling off the rest of the day. No such luck.

"I don't know much yet... outside of what the letters explained."

This whole place was a mystery.

[lethechained.livejournal.com]

Naminé raised her head slightly, but otherwise showed little reaction to the new information. The same time? Perhaps there was some kind of pattern to the new arrivals. This probably warranted further investigation, but her thoughts on the matter had to be put on hold when he spoke again.

It was a statement that triggered something that had grown in her personality over her short life. She'd spent so much time trying to help others, to inform them and guide them, even when she herself was lost, too. If he knew nothing, then... surely there was something that she could help him understand, even with her limited knowledge. "...About the letters," she began, slow and still a tiny bit hesitant. "...it seems like most people don't believe them." As for what she thought, well... that wasn't readily obvious.

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

The statement isn't one he was expecting but it isn't surprising. Who would want to? To believe your world is gone and all the things and people in it gone with it. Reading that note and being told you're the only one who is still alive because you were saved from something you don't know and never saw coming. It's a lot to swallow and Henry isn't sure he believes it either. There's no way to really know if it's the truth, no matter what anyone tells him.

...but there isn't anything to disprove it either and there's a little voice in the back of his head that does ask, what do you do if it is the truth? He's come to learn without a choice that frightening things beyond your own imagining can happen. Being locked in a room, cut off from all chance of contact only to find people and watch them die... This situation he's in now is tougher to dismiss after living through that, it feels real, no matter how much he wants to deny it.

"I can't blame them, for that to be the truth..." A feeling of helplessness washes over him but he might as well be honest. "I don't want to believe that I have no home to go to but... a part of me can't ignore what's already happened."

[lethechained.livejournal.com]

The girl nodded, sympathy leaking into her expression. She'd been convinced of the worlds' destruction, if only for a moment. Now... she wasn't sure what she believed. "You've seen the floor below this one, haven't you?" It had certainly pushed her towards belief before. "They say it's fake, but... it looks so real."

Her hands came to tangle together in front of her and she glanced down at them, remembered herself, and looked back up again. "I still don't know what to think. The worlds are-- a lot more fragile than most people would believe, but..." And yet still she seemed hesitant to come to a conclusion once and for all.

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

The twelfth floor had been one he wandered onto to but he didn't stay long. Whether or not it had been real, given what had just happened to him, it only filled him with unease. The idea that there was nothing left should be incomprehensible, he'd only experienced a sliver of his world, only seen a fraction of its people.

The people... Eileen. Accepting this as the absolute truth meant that Eileen had died after all. After everything they had been through, the running and fighting and hauntings and bringing down Walter Sullivan. All of her pain, he, he couldn't accept that.

He shakes his head, speaking a little louder, needing to hear it more for himself, "No, I, I can't believe it, not until I know it's the absolute truth. I can't let go of everything I've done... just so I can have an answer handed to me." He closes his eyes, letting out a tight breath. "I know that I'm here now but... I can't do that."

[lethechained.livejournal.com]

Naminé watched his denial quietly, but her face betrayed her surprise. She hadn't expected to hear something so much like her own concerns; after everything she'd done, everything she'd spent her life on, the idea that it was all gone was... unthinkable, although think it she had. "...I understand how you feel." The way she said it only hinted at how meaningful it was to her. She'd thought that here, she'd be more alone then ever, but maybe the truth was just the opposite. There were more people, yes, but it wasn't the same thing. They weren't the same people she'd dedicated her life to... and yet, who was to say that they were really so different?

"Is that your final decision?" Why she wanted to know, even she wasn't sure. Maybe it was because she didn't have the answer for herself, or maybe it was because everything she had ever done was caused by someone else, by someone else's encouragement or threat or suffering, and some part of her was hoping that someone would be able to tell her what way she should go.

[lilpuzzleteer.livejournal.com]

A clunk and a tinnish bang were the first heralds that something was coming. Even with the church's strange, almost muting quality for sound, the yelp that accompanied the racket managed to get through the church. The source? Luke had tripped up the stairs, coming up to the church. His bag was sprawled at his side, but luckily not spilling out down all the way to floor twelve.

"...bugger all..."

Luke let himself the momentary grump, getting up in stages, and straightening his hat. He'd scraped his knee on the stairs, but that was basically a daily occurrence with him anyway.

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

Henry had heard the clatter and bang surprisingly easily. It had taken him off guard after soaking in the still silence the church had offered. He'd thrown a glance over his shoulder before getting to his feet, noticing the sprawl of a small body at the entrance. Before he could move too fast the body was getting up and as he got closer, oh, it was a kid.

...the fact that there were children here also was another thing that bothered him. Children being taken from their homes and he couldn't help but think of what he learned about the Wish House, what had been masquerading as an orphanage and the water tower that stood in the distance, no. He didn't want to think about that anymore. Nor was now the time.

Instead, Henry made his way over and by habit leaned down when he spoke, hands on his knees to steady himself and bring himself closer to the boys' height.

"Are you okay...?"

He noticed the spillage of the bag on the floor beside him and also made a gesture as if to help him clean up.

[lilpuzzleteer.livejournal.com]

Luke seemed to lean back some when Henry bent to his height, clearly not used to people coming to his level. He almost looked like he was going to spout out something equally grumpy for a moment, but shook his head 'yes' instead.

"It's just a scuff, nothing I haven't been through before." Luke gave his knee a quick look, and frowned when he noticed it was pricking with blood. Stupid stairs.

More important than that was the fact that his mostly-empty thermos was rocking slowly back and forth on the stairs still, with its two cups not far from it. Luke scooped up the little white bags that had also spilled out first, stuffing them in his satchel before Henry could help with them. Those weren't infinite, and had been hard-earned...he didn't want to waste or lose any of the tea ingredients. He was more okay with accepting help with the rest of the spilled goods. "Um, thank you."

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

The knee doesn't go unnoticed. If he's not bleeding too heavily the blood will slow and clot on its own. Now that Henry's right in front of him, he can see he isn't too young and knows how to handle a scrape, so he'll give him a nod.

His lips will quirk slightly at his next response before he heads over to the still rocking thermos and cups on the stairs, bending down and picking them up easily. Handing them over, he'll gather up whatever else is left scattered on the floor.

"Here you go."

[lilpuzzleteer.livejournal.com]

"...thank you." You already said that, Luke.

For some reason the kid seemed a bit stunned by Henry's presence as he sorted his things back in to his bag, hovering for a moment on the last thing- his harmonica. Instead of tucking it away, Luke just held on to it, shuffling sort of awkwardly like he wasn't sure what to do. What was with this oppressive atmosphere?

"...this place gives me the willies." He wasn't sure why he was talking about that, honestly. "Uh, but sorry if I disturbed you or anything."

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

Despite the fact he hasn't seen the entirety of the tower, he would think the whole damn place would. Is he here by himself with no one to look after him? How selective were they with taking people? He's going to get a headache thinking about this.

"It's a big place, I don't think anyone really expected this to be here," he shrugs slightly. There were worse places to turn up unexpectedly, he knows; he has, too many times to count.

"It's different... from the churches I've seen before."

Not just in style but in feeling, it wasn't unnerving and it was almost settling, the way the quiet seemed to wash over him.

"Are all the floors this..." What? Out of place? Safe? This place feels more safe than it should, when he knows danger has to be lurking in the tower somewhere. "Surprising?"

[lilpuzzleteer.livejournal.com]

"No, I mean...a couple people loiter here. I usually try to sneak by so I don't disturb them..." Luke rubbed the metal of his harmonica, glancing around to see if anyone else was about. Didn't seem so.

"The only church I've ever been to is Temple Church, by the Thames." And that had been due to historical significance, not any religious means. The architecture had been quite interesting. "I really wouldn't know."

Luke pursed his lips at Henry's inquiry, seeming to consider his options while sighing out of the side of his mouth. Eventually, his eyes pointed that way too. "There's a floor below this one that has no walls at all."

Hopefully, that'd answer his question.

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

...what the hell? No walls? In a tower of all places? The first thing that comes to mind is it sounds like a death trap. An easily accessible one, at that.

...yet a part of him wants to see for himself, how it's structured exactly to work and still be another level.

Everything still felt so surreal.

"Um, I'm Henry," he decides to introduce himself, it can't hurt, right? "I came here yesterday, so I'm not really... use to anything yet." Use to. Did he want to be use to this place? No, not at all and he didn't want to find out if he would get a chance to.

[lilpuzzleteer.livejournal.com]

"Oh, you're new too?" Luke frowned, crossing his arms and knitting his brows. "That's intriguing...maybe they do bring people here in batches. I suppose I should look in to this."

The kid looked up from his musing, dropping an arm and extending his other out to shake. "I'm Luke. I've only been here for two weeks, maybe. Time's a bit funny around here. It's not really worth growing accustomed to. It's quite boring around here, when all's said and done."

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

Henry will lean down a bit again at the offered hand and gently takes it, his larger hand practically engulfs the boys and he's careful not to squeeze too tight in the handshake.

"Boring?"

Was this place really all that quiet? Two weeks is a good stretch of time and it knocks him off balance to hear such a thing.

"You've never seen anything dangerous happen around here? Anything frightening?"

Perhaps he's paranoid, especially after everything he's been through, but he finds that hard to believe. Nothing?

[lilpuzzleteer.livejournal.com]

The mention of frightening things made Luke abruptly freeze up for a moment, before shaking his head no rather hastily. He had to be brave. The Professor wasn't here to watch out for him, so he had to handle it himself.

"W-well. When I arrived, the power was out...and I can hear the others talking about these weird ghosts sometimes. But, I personally didn't see or hear anything."

Which totally had nothing to do with the fact that he'd hid in his room the entire time. The harmonica was still being fiddled with, now more than ever. "...people, died. But they came back to life when the lights returned." Luke was clearly not enjoying this conversation.

[bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com]

...shit.

He shouldn't have asked a child that, no matter how old he carried himself.

People had died here. They came back but they had died. A pit that was slowly forming in his stomach makes itself known here. Heavier and fuller and he's done asking those sorts of questions now.

He bites his lower lip briefly,

"...do you want to sit down?"