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towerofanimus2011-08-22 05:08 pm
bloodiedshutter.livejournal.com) wrote in towerofanimus2011-08-22 05:08 pm
Entry tags:
[00|01]
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...?"
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...?"
no subject
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...."
I'm loving the emotional output in this thread j'saiyan |D
A hand runs down his face, rubbing at one eye.
It's almost funny, how easily he feels just a little sicker.
Knack or no knack, anything else he can think to ask, to talk about wouldn't amount to much a this point, wouldn't help make anything clearer. He lets out a long breath, looking back down at this feet.
...well.
"...um."
Heeeeee, me too. C: Also thanks for getting Namine to finally stop waffling about dat world loss.
Hadn't Sora taught her better than that?"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Her shoulders rose slightly, expressing her discomfort. "It's just--" She knew some of the people that died, but that probably wasn't worth mentioning, either. "...Nevermind."She shifted her weight slightly, hesitated, then said, "I should... probably stop taking up your time."
NO PROBLEM, thank you for letting Henry be socially awkward |D
That's, wait, he didn't-- Oh, uh, hrm.
"No, I..." He closes his mouth, there's something he was trying to say but it's scrambled in his mind, not coming up clear and his voice refuses to work with him. And now she's apologizing and Henry feels awkward, like he's prone to when he gets tongue-tied.
But he doesn't want to stay quiet too long, he knows that won't come across well either so...
"I, I don't know what's going to happen and we've... only just met but... um. If you ever need help, y-you can come to me." It didn't seem right, not to offer, after everything they'd talked about. "I'd like to help, if I can." It had gotten him in trouble in the past but... she was clearly worried about something and he couldn't ignore that, even if she hadn't told him, wouldn't tell him.
:D ! No problem <3333
Well, he did say 'if he could'. If it was something he couldn't help with (or she couldn't let him help with), then she could fail to take him up on that offer without
too muchguilt. Slowly, she smiled. "...Alright." One of her hands slipped behind her back to hold her other arm. "Thank you. That's so kind of you." Her smile widened. "And... I'd like to help you, too. If I can."