towerofanimus | [00|01]

Entry tags:

[ou] henry townshend

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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...?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

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?"

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.

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?"

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?"

"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.

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.

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."

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.

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."

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.

is that your final decision?

His feet shift his weight back and forth for a moment, silence closing in as he thinks. Giving the answer, he finds, is easy. It's following through with it that will be hard, very hard. That doesn't matter though, when it comes down to it. This is the only way it can be.

Henry's eyes open slowly, flickering down to the ground at first. "I don't know what you've been through... Back in, my world," the existence of multiple worlds is still something he's getting used to, "The things I did and the people I was with, all of that... is worth too much to me to forget or to let fade away." He looks back at the young woman, expression sobering, the weight of what he is saying apparent. "I'll find out the truth for myself and only then will I accept it.

The destruction of his world would take the bad things away, the evil lurking within Silent Hill, the Otherworlds and the cruelty. It would also take away everything he worked so hard to prove and protect and become. He can accept the horror that will always cling to him, that he won't be able to forget but not without everything else he fought for.

What she'd been through.... That wasn't something she believed was a good thing to discuss, so she made no move to do so. It did make her wonder, though, what it was that he had been through. The chord that had been struck in her before was struck again at the mention of the worth of those memories, those connections, those people, and the possibility of them being allowed to fade. She wanted to say that the memories would never truly be gone, because she knew that possibly better than anyone, but it seemed irrelevant compared to finding out whether or not the sources of those things were really gone for good.

"That's... brave of you to say." After all, neither of them knew what it would take to find those answers. "You're strong, to make that decision." It would have been much easier to accept it, grieve, and move on. Yet... that couldn't be the right answer. How could she have even considered giving up so easily? It was probably the fact that everything was so precarious in her world, even the world itself. It was so easy to imagine that the world might fall apart, just as easy as it was hard. "...And I think that I agree with you." After all, when had any of her captors ever been totally honest with her, or even each other? "There's more to this than they're telling us. And the people who got left behind, they're--" Her voice threatened to betray her, though it was not externally obvious except because of her pause. "...they're too important to let go of just like that."

He fidgets at her praise, he's never considered himself to be brave. Much like crawling through the hole in his apartment the first time, the damp earth present against the legs of his jeans, he had been scared. No idea what he would see, what he would do, if anything would get better. He's scared now, inside his heart is pounding just a little faster but just like before, he'll never know if the source of his fear is unfounded if he doesn't try.

"N-No, I'm... I'm just stubborn." A small half-smile appears, tired but there. What she has to say strikes a chord with him, she understands too. Why this can't be easy, why he can't be willing to go along with it. The solidarity feels good, easing up a small part of his chest that had been building with pressure up until now.

He nods, once, when a thought occurs to him.

"...oh, I never introduced myself. I'm Henry, Henry Townshend."

"Sometimes it's the same thing." After all, most of the brave people she knew were stubborn. The half-smile encouraged her to smile back. It was not a large smile, but it was genuine and made an attempt at being encouraging itself. The introduction surprised her, because she hadn't thought of it either. She straightened up, her hands finally releasing each other.

"It's nice to meet you, Henry." It's what she usually says, and she always means it. Despite her well-warranted suspicion of strangers, she couldn't help finding it exciting to meet new people when she'd so rarely been allowed to do so before, and then even more rarely was it actually a good meeting. She placed a hand against her chest. "My name is Naminé." Pause. "...Just Naminé." This admission was just a little bit shy.

Her smile makes him relax a little more, his response comes out light but easily.

"It's nice to meet you too."

He noticed the lack of last name but didn't give any indication he thought it was strange. The talk they'd had, his admission and desire, wasn't something he'd foreseen but it's left him feeling more grounded than when he first entered the cathedral.

There was a new goal now, hovering in the front of his mind instead of the back.

The response was welcome, and her smile widened. She stood still and quiet for a moment longer, hesitant, then, "Was there anything else you needed to know?" Her voice was easier, too. She may not have been about to spout her life's story, but she couldn't help feeling considerably more relaxed. Maybe not enough so to be completely comfortable, but it was enough so that when she spoke, she could keep a small, patient smile on her face.

It wouldn't have occurred to Henry to ask anything personal, not with someone he just met. Instead he's caught off guard, he had been winging it earlier, asking on the chance if she'd been here long enough to know what was routine around here. A hand goes up to the back of his neck to hold it self-consciously, did he have anything else he needed to ask? Naminé had more or less experienced the same day as he did, although...

"...have you heard about anything happening here, besides people arriving?"

That question eased the smile right off of her face, her expression taking a more serious tone. "Yes." Her eyes drifted downward and she frowned at the floor as she ran through the memories of the previous day. "And it wasn't good." Looking back up, she began to explain, "A while ago, there was a blackout. It lasted for a long time, and while it was happening... there were ghosts. They looked like the people that had been left behind. But-- they were trying to hurt everyone." It was definitely not good news, especially for the theory that those that had been left behind were really gone. "I... it didn't sound like it was really them."

Henry really has a knack for these things.

He'd wanted to know and now he did. He swears his heart stops when she mentions the ghosts, mind reeling back to the specters that had tracked him down and followed him through the worlds, crying and reaching for him. His head ached deeply at their presence, feeling it would spit open and he grimaces at the memory.

"There is danger here."

Would he have seen them if he'd been brought here earlier? Would they have looked like people he knew? People who were still alive or the ghosts of the victims he never managed to save? A cold chill runs down his spine, no, he can't think about that.

"...their appearances could have been a trick? It's hard to know, how much power they're capable of."

If that wasn't scary as hell to think about.

The nod that she gave at the mention of danger was slow. As for it being a trick.... She shifted her weight, her hands clenching weakly at her sides before she relaxed them again and spoke. "It could have been some kind of illusion." This next part, however, she was hesitant to admit. Henry had shown no interest in her past or abilities... although she could never be too careful. Still, just mentioning someone else's powers wouldn't arouse too much suspicion, would it? "...I know of someone that can make illusions like that." She probably could have, too, if she tried, although she was uncertain of their ability to hurt people. She'd never tried, nor wanted to try. "Or-- could. I thought he was... gone."

What she kept to herself was that she'd seen him here, only... it wasn't him. Not exactly-- that version was too young. It could have easily been an illusion, but he'd seemed to really mean it when he said he didn't know her. She had no faith in that being the truth, but she also wasn't certain that calling him out, even to someone else, was a good idea. "...So... yes, it's possible." Pause. "I've never met someone else who could do quite what he did, but that doesn't mean that his abilities were unique."

After she speaks Henry launches deep into thought again. Henry wasn't familiar with the exact power they were talking about but he could believe in it. He'd encountered a man whose perception of reality was so warped, even in his death, he couldn't rest. Those confusing and dangerous worlds had all been his creations, the ugly, brutal parts of his past. In the beginning he wondered if he was delusional, how could any of the things he saw be real, but they became reality in the end and the idea of someone who has the power to create and manipulate doesn't seem hard to fathom at all, not now.

"I think... it's something to keep in mind, even if we don't know."

He lets out a sigh. Oh man...

She nodded her agreement. A theory might have been better than no theory. Considering the presence of the person she'd been describing, or at least someone suspiciously similar, it definitely seemed like a viable one. "...--Oh!" Thinking about that person reminded her quite suddenly of something rather important she'd forgotten to mention with all the other things on her mind.

"I didn't tell you something. During the blackout, some people... died." The word was a little hard to get out. "But the strange part is that they came back to life after a while. They weren't even hurt anymore." Kind of a bad part to forget to mention, Naminé.

Died.

His shoulders slack, face closing up to a degree.

...hadn't he spent enough time fighting for his life? Fighting for the lives of others? Hadn't he witnessed enough of his failures. Would he even be able to fight back here? He doesn't know what to say, it is important and he's better off knowing but it isn't good news. The little part of him that was born from living through that hellish week couldn't help but chime in again in the back of his head why me. Why had he been brought to this place.

He bites the inside of his cheek, knowing he's drowning them in silence until he finally finds something to say and he means it, with all his heart.

"I'm glad they're all back, even if it doesn't make any sense."

Another chance... that was the only silver lining here.

If he had a knack for asking the right question, she had a knack for saying things people didn't want to hear.

The silence was both surprising and not. It seemed to wear on too long for only the processing of the idea that people had been killed, but maybe that was only because saying it had been like ripping off a bandage and she was still trapped in that brief instant of discomfort for part of that pause. All she could think to do when he finally spoke up was agree. "Yes. I just hope there aren't any side effects that we don't know about yet." The way it was said sounded just a little bit more concerned than necessary, since in her case it was personal. "There don't seem to be any yet, but...."

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I'm loving the emotional output in this thread j'saiyan |D

Heeeeee, me too. C: Also thanks for getting Namine to finally stop waffling about dat world loss.

NO PROBLEM, thank you for letting Henry be socially awkward |D

:D ! No problem <3333