Something Wrong Son?

First time in town son? Name's Howard. Glad to make your acquittance. Ah'm the mailman around these parts. If you've got any mail need's haulin' around I'd be more than willin' to get it around for you. Hope you find whatever it is you're lookin' for. ((Roleplay blog for SHRP))

[comesleetsnoworfog]

((Hoo boy it's been a while, like a year while. I'm debating whether to delete this blog or not, I got rid of my Shepard blog because I know for certain that my life's way too cluttered for two roleplay accounts. I might work on a couple of my old drafts to see if I can blow off some roleplaying dust, again, I'm not sure.))

[comesleetsnoworfog]

((Replies I owe))

officer-coleridge

locked-in-this-room

priestesswolf

ask-the-memory-of-alessa

therearenocentaursinoxford (possibly, should enlighten myself on your fandom when I have the time)

[comesleetsnoworfog]

lordofserpentsandreeds started following you

The world ended. The immediate world seemed to grow even colder and the chilly air transformed his empty breath to cold vapour in front of him. Pulling his blue coat tighter around him, the old postman's thoughts turned to tea; those old cosy mugs he liked to drink when he knew the fog wasn't watching.

This wasn't unfamiliar to the old worker. It's a tough thing to explain...that doom can herald different things for different men. He often found it hard to explain to himself, let alone what precious company stumbled onto his doorstep.

But doom, this doom, this tiny apocalypse merely heralded to him the arrival of an old customer. He opened his bag and rustled through the contents. He was used to bringing the mail to the recipient, not the other way round...

[lonelyponiko-deactivated2013060]

comesleetsnoworfog

[comesleetsnoworfog]

The blue coat clad man nodded in idle agreement. Howard felt the man’s eyes pierce the silent towns nether and saw, in the glassy irises a cold, grey fire that neither scolded or scorched. 

Upon further inspection of this man, he saw he was anything but young. To an old man such as him anyone in their 40s seemed positively baby-faced, but the sullen face looking at him seemed to sag slightly in the wet haze of the road. It was like looking at a totem of regret.

“Saw this place grow up son. When I was a pup, why, South Vale was nothin’ much more than the ol’ hospital an’ a bit of housin’ for the doctors up in there. An’ this, the south eastern town? Hell, this was a whole other town ‘till they changed the town borders.” His good natured laugh was soft and gentle as the sodden concrete he stood on.

“But hear me rantin’ and ravin’. I’m jus’ a postman son, not a tour-guide. An’ I bet you got a few stories of your own, Mr…? “ 

[lonelyponiko-deactivated2013060]

-James seemed to smile as he listened to the older man speak, much more information as being given and James could sure use some of that..Oh his name he hadn’t told him his name has he? no..- Sorry..I’m James, uhm..James Sunderland. -James was somewhat nervous to be giving out his name but he was sure the mailman must have felt even more odd. Talking to a random stranger..and to James of all people, poor post man.- 

[comesleetsnoworfog]

He reciprocated the man's small smile with a nod and what might have been a smirk, obscured beneath the shadow of the hat's peak.

"Sunderland? Don't hear a name like that much." Sad names for sad faces. "I'm Howard, ol' postmaster here. Though the title's fallin' outta use these days. All computers and such."

His face embraced the dim light of the street once more.

"So how'd you end up here young man? I met a bunch a' passin'-byers in my time but I'm yet to hear of no-one jus' wakin' up at the roadside." He made the same wheezy laugh that became standard and easy with repetition.

[zackisontumblr]

[lonelyponiko-deactivated2013060]

comesleetsnoworfog

[comesleetsnoworfog]

It was lost to him just how many times strangers had asked this question, he always managed to look just slightly offended despite the layers of humility he wore.

“Well my back was a mighty bit sturdier when I came if that answers your query. Old hands n’ such.” 

[lonelyponiko-deactivated2013060]

oh..really? ..I won’t ask how long that was..but I sure don’t recall being i n this area or have seeing you before… I was so set on finding Mary.. Yet again Silent hill is kind of big…So it’d make sense.. 

[comesleetsnoworfog]

The blue coat clad man nodded in idle agreement. Howard felt the man's eyes pierce the silent towns nether and saw, in the glassy irises a cold, grey fire that neither scolded or scorched. 

Upon further inspection of this man, he saw he was anything but young. To an old man such as him anyone in their 40s seemed positively baby-faced, but the sullen face looking at him seemed to sag slightly in the wet haze of the road. It was like looking at a totem of regret.

"Saw this place grow up son. When I was a pup, why, South Vale was nothin' much more than the ol' hospital an' a bit of housin' for the doctors up in there. An' this, the south eastern town? Hell, this was a whole other town 'till they changed the town borders." His good natured laugh was soft and gentle as the sodden concrete he stood on.

"But hear me rantin' and ravin'. I'm jus' a postman son, not a tour-guide. An' I bet you got a few stories of your own, Mr...? " 

[lonelyponiko-deactivated2013060]

comesleetsnoworfog

[comesleetsnoworfog]

This was awkward for Howard, he offered people truth, not comfort. Yet, a grown man had seemingly been birthed from the fog and was now having a small breakdown in front of him.

“How long you been out’a town son?”

[lonelyponiko-deactivated2013060]

About…20 years now..? Huh..how long have you been here..???

[comesleetsnoworfog]

It was lost to him just how many times strangers had asked this question, he always managed to look just slightly offended despite the layers of humility he wore.

"Well my back was a mighty bit sturdier when I came if that answers your query. Old hands n' such." 

[lonelyponiko-deactivated2013060]

comesleetsnoworfog

[comesleetsnoworfog]

He strode up to the confused man and laughed non-threateningly.

“Heh, don’t suppose you were lookin’ for somewhere particular? Never once met a man who was goin’ no place.” He pointed idly over his shoulder. “Says right back on that sign; Silent Hill.”

[lonelyponiko-deactivated2013060]

I…Silent…Hill? How did I get back here again..oh god..-James put his hands onto his head and closed his eyes- I left this place before! With Laura..How did I get back here..I avoid it …-he shook his head as his eyes opened again and stared at the other male-

..I dont remember…seeing Silent hill’s houses like these before..? -he looked around at the homes- So..different..

[comesleetsnoworfog]

This was awkward for Howard, he offered people truth, not comfort. Yet, a grown man had seemingly been birthed from the fog and was now having a small breakdown in front of him.

"How long you been out'a town son?"

[lonelyponiko-deactivated2013060]

comesleetsnoworfog

Oh hello there, who are you sir?  

[comesleetsnoworfog]

Like a shade of shades the man came, leading a lost walk out of the fog towards him. People were the best kind of surprises pondered the old man.

“Young man, you look troubled. What brings a man like you ‘round our ol’ way?”

[lonelyponiko-deactivated2013060]

-James thought for a moment, did he feel troubled?? Well he was very confused..where was he??-

Yeah I um..I’m lost..I know this place look familiar but I don’t know where in this, wow I even forgot the name of this town..  

[comesleetsnoworfog]

He strode up to the confused man and laughed non-threateningly.

"Heh, don't suppose you were lookin' for somewhere particular? Never once met a man who was goin' no place." He pointed idly over his shoulder. "Says right back on that sign; Silent Hill."

[lonelyponiko-deactivated2013060]

comesleetsnoworfog

Oh hello there, who are you sir?  

[comesleetsnoworfog]

Like a shade of shades the man came, leading a lost walk out of the fog towards him. People were the best kind of surprises pondered the old man.

"Young man, you look troubled. What brings a man like you 'round our ol' way?"

[comesleetsnoworfog]

themotherofevil started following you

Veins punctured violently from either side of the forest path, outstretched towards the bright blight of the sky that shrouded the very tips of the wooden blood-tracts in terrible sunlight. It felt like years since the old, leathery dark-skinned man had perceived a world outside the fog. It did not bring comfort, nor did it drown any sense of loneliness he may have . Quite the contrary; fog was it’s own company and Silent Hill always had visitors, but when the world was as suddenly clear as this and you could see with your own eyes that nothing stirred: that was true loneliness. 

The basic, black waistcoat with diamond hand-stitchings felt a size too tight, not much to be visibly uncomfortable but enough to force him out of his usual hunched posture and make him feel countless years younger. The brown leather of constricting gauntlets, loose stitching of soft, frayed fabric britches and hard boots made him feel even younger than that…a count of centuries seemly lifted from his shoulders, submerging him in some sort of new place.

This hardly surprised him, Silent Hill often made him see things from a radically new perspective. The letters sitting in the large purse at his belt, of uneven parchment, devoid of area code, stamps or the mark of the old United States Postal Service confirmed the all-too familiar feeling of the “right man in the wrong place”. Howard took the bunch of unfamiliar coinage in his pocket and scattered them into the leaves before noticing someone on the road.

[themotherofevil-deactivated2013]

Morgana carefully steered the horse around the prickles of black roses, they weren’t naturally like that, she had put them that color. Then a few moments later of guiding the horse in delicate patterns only she knew, a figure appeared not that far away which made her wonder what a man of his kind would be doing out so deep in the wood, yet she was not known to be the one to be scared so there was no harm in going to see what business he had around these parts, plus, if he even made a step out of place she would put him into a disturbing and painful position.

Her black cloak folded over her horse and made her look almost anonymous, apart from the cascading curls of her coal black hair peaking out and the all so pale face that hid in the shadows of the cloak hood. By now she was only a few paces away and he would be able to hear her from where she was standing, so when she heard his own voice it startled her a little. Not many people speak openly to such a uncommon person, yet he must be someone high in the power qualities if he does let words slip out of his mouth so openly. “Now what was that you said?”

[comesleetsnoworfog]

Really the only things that marked him out were his complexion and the slab of southern drawl that coloured his speech. His messenger-clothes were suitably road-worn by the unremembered trail that had placed him in this patch of woodland that he'd never seen before. A faded and twisted lifetime in Silent Hill had given him knowledge of every tree that watched the lone highway of Nathan Avenue, each individual angle of eye-shot to be gained from the South Vale observation deck. Memory had dulled his edge.

Having lived this life for a time that didn't seem to conform to logic or reasoning; any occasion where a place offered him no remorse or nostalgia, any emotion firmly routed in the past made him uncomfortable.

Speaking of the past.

"Jus' lost is all ma'am. Not seen a soul for days an' I hailed as soon as I saw a livin' folk. I'm sure a rider of your range has some direction to share." 

He tried to look into the shadow she cast of and over herself, but he found it difficult. People still continue to surprise him, he thought to himself.

"I'm a courier. Howard, son a' Thomas." Was that his father? It could have been. He had yet to penetrate his own shadows still.

[judgementchazzy-deactivated2018]

So my dad got me a Halo of the Sun shirt for christmas.

DAD. YOU ARE HERO.

[comesleetsnoworfog]

themotherofevil started following you

Veins punctured violently from either side of the forest path, outstretched towards the bright blight of the sky that shrouded the very tips of the wooden blood-tracts in terrible sunlight. It felt like years since the old, leathery dark-skinned man had perceived a world outside the fog. It did not bring comfort, nor did it drown any sense of loneliness he may have . Quite the contrary; fog was it's own company and Silent Hill always had visitors, but when the world was as suddenly clear as this and you could see with your own eyes that nothing stirred: that was true loneliness. 

The basic, black waistcoat with diamond hand-stitchings felt a size too tight, not much to be visibly uncomfortable but enough to force him out of his usual hunched posture and make him feel countless years younger. The brown leather of constricting gauntlets, loose stitching of soft, frayed fabric britches and hard boots made him feel even younger than that...a count of centuries seemly lifted from his shoulders, submerging him in some sort of new place.

This hardly surprised him, Silent Hill often made him see things from a radically new perspective. The letters sitting in the large purse at his belt, of uneven parchment, devoid of area code, stamps or the mark of the old United States Postal Service confirmed the all-too familiar feeling of the "right man in the wrong place". Howard took the bunch of unfamiliar coinage in his pocket and scattered them into the leaves before noticing someone on the road.

[comesleetsnoworfog]

Have you met Alessa Gillespie in any of her incarnations?

"Everybody knew that Gilespie bunch. Sweet girl that there Alessa was, always polite n' friendly, though her mother never much let her talk to many folks around here." He let out a small, singular laugh. "Let alone a workin' stiff like myself."

[junk-inthe-trunk-deactivated201]

The air felt thick. There was always a density to the air that couldn’t be explained by humidity or cold, and Mary wondered if either would affect her even if that were the case. The weight came from something older, darker, and far more prevalent in Silent Hill. Today, what would normally feel like a blanket felt like a rock on her shoulders, a creeping darkness that squirmed in that part of her soul she dared not release, and thrummed in the shadows around her. 

Mary watched from her window as the world shifted and changed. She couldn’t see much beyond her window, but she could feel… something. Something that made her afraid to leave the motel to try and find out what it was. What was happening? Was someone new in town? That didn’t seem that odd. There were new people showing up more and more these days. So what made this feel so different?

Sighing, Mary walked towards her chair and sat down, leaning over to idly rearrange her skirts into a more pleasing pattern. It was a nervous habit. Try as she might she could not truly relax, but she also could not work up the courage and energy to venture outside her sanctuary. At least… not yet. 

Mary sat quietly, eyes closed, and strained to listen to every sound within the old motel, hoping, dreading, the sound of the front door opening.

[comesleetsnoworfog]

The thump of a letter on the carpet was so piercing, so loud in the thick blanket of solitude that hung over Silent Hill. It’s slow drift to the floor was almost unnaturally smooth, hardly swaying in it’s descent as if gravity itself had only a partial presence in this place.

Addressed to no-one, the envelope sat and waited. He delivered a lot of letters like this; meant for anyone, asked for by no-one. The town was full of paradoxes, of unknown things. Many of them were much stranger than his letters.

He often puzzled over these unmarked buildings with no address, sometimes over the simple details like if it was a house or a shopfront. Sometimes it’d be the more personal specifics he begged of them; how long had it stood? Who was it built by? Were the owners dead now?

But the most pertinent query of all he asked of the empty streets: “Was there anyone inside…?”

[junk-inthe-trunk-deactivated201]

Was that…? 

Mary sat up slowly, listening. Had she heard something? Shakily, she stood and limped towards the door. Her illness was more pronounced today. Not a good sign. Swinging the door wide open, she called down the stairs.

“Hello? Is someone there?” 

Please… let someone be there.

[comesleetsnoworfog]

Few things ever surprised him around here, but the frailty of the voice filling the hallway beyond startled him just as much as the fact that there was a voice there at all.

“Bunch’a letters ma’am!”

He buttoned his coat right up idly.

“Cold out today, I understand if you don’t fancy lettin’ precious heat out.”

[junk-inthe-trunk-deactivated201]

Mary came out at the sound of the voice. Something about the ease of his voice intrigued her— this wasn’t a lost and haunted soul, not like the others. 

“Please come in to warm up if you’d like,” she called back. Slowly she made her way down the hallway towards the door. “I certainly don’t mind sharing the heat.” She hadn’t noticed it in the first place. “Do I have letters?” 

[comesleetsnoworfog]

He shuffled his shoes slightly, hearing their low gravelly mumble against the tarmac. 

“I hate to intrude miss, but if y’a insistin’…” The postman stepped apprehensively through into the musty hall. Flaked wallpaper curled up to greet him with outstretched leafs of material and plaster. He bent down briefly to look at the unmarked letter. “I can’t say I know ‘bout the letter.”

Peering into the murky living-room his old eyes scanned over piles of old photo-albums and stacks of old records stacked up behind furniture still in it’s plastic lining. Their unmolested, pleasing shades of black and brown seemed to defy the ghostly twilight the rest of the room inhabited.

“Is, eh…anybody else home?” Howard queried as he looked ahead to see a young woman descending the flight of stairs at the end of the hall, the brittle banisters seemed barely fit to support the conspicuously absent rats.

‘Been a long time since he saw a rat he thought.

[junk-inthe-trunk-deactivated201]

Mary’s face fell, and she shook her head, wisps of hair following the movement. “It’s just me. Nobody else here for as long as I’ve been here. I live up on the second floor.” She stared down at the floor as she spoke, then lifted her face and gave him a small smile. “Gotten plenty of visitors however. It’s nice to have someone else to talk to. Been around town long? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.” 

Mary shifted in place, crossing her arms in front of her and tucking her hands into her sleeves. She supposed it did feel a little cool. “Is it still raining out?” Her eyes took in the man. He seemed kind enough, though perhaps just a little out-of-place in this town. Mary thought that she must seem it too, but she was sure she didn’t carry this man’s enigmatic presence. Maybe.

[comesleetsnoworfog]

He sighed enigmatically, an attempt to find the neutral ground between amusement and familiarity. A fuzz of years filled his vision, his eyes seemed to cloud with the obscurity of it all. Recollection never got old, even in a place which remained transfixed. Events begin to lose relevance when days and nights were such tuppence.

"Ain't exactly born n' raised but I'm a long-time feature." He answered warmly. "Lotta buildin's goin' empty these days, always good t' see younger folks comin' in to fill 'em up. Brings this ol' town to life."

Hunching over, he wrestled the sack-strap around his head. Howard held the bag in one hand as the other nursed the aching bones of his shoulder-blade, relieved of it's paper and parchment burden.

"No more rain miss, but it still ain't too invitin' even with this godamn coat...eh, if you'll pardon the language Miss Sunderland."

Idly he Dropped the bag by his feet for a second as he rubbed his hands together, trying to find what warmth could be found in this place.

"Don't s'pposed you have a kettle on the property?"

[comesleetsnoworfog]

((I hate being sick. X_X I'll get your reply done at some point Mary-mun ^ ^))

[junk-inthe-trunk-deactivated201]

The air felt thick. There was always a density to the air that couldn’t be explained by humidity or cold, and Mary wondered if either would affect her even if that were the case. The weight came from something older, darker, and far more prevalent in Silent Hill. Today, what would normally feel like a blanket felt like a rock on her shoulders, a creeping darkness that squirmed in that part of her soul she dared not release, and thrummed in the shadows around her. 

Mary watched from her window as the world shifted and changed. She couldn’t see much beyond her window, but she could feel… something. Something that made her afraid to leave the motel to try and find out what it was. What was happening? Was someone new in town? That didn’t seem that odd. There were new people showing up more and more these days. So what made this feel so different?

Sighing, Mary walked towards her chair and sat down, leaning over to idly rearrange her skirts into a more pleasing pattern. It was a nervous habit. Try as she might she could not truly relax, but she also could not work up the courage and energy to venture outside her sanctuary. At least… not yet. 

Mary sat quietly, eyes closed, and strained to listen to every sound within the old motel, hoping, dreading, the sound of the front door opening.

[comesleetsnoworfog]

The thump of a letter on the carpet was so piercing, so loud in the thick blanket of solitude that hung over Silent Hill. It’s slow drift to the floor was almost unnaturally smooth, hardly swaying in it’s descent as if gravity itself had only a partial presence in this place.

Addressed to no-one, the envelope sat and waited. He delivered a lot of letters like this; meant for anyone, asked for by no-one. The town was full of paradoxes, of unknown things. Many of them were much stranger than his letters.

He often puzzled over these unmarked buildings with no address, sometimes over the simple details like if it was a house or a shopfront. Sometimes it’d be the more personal specifics he begged of them; how long had it stood? Who was it built by? Were the owners dead now?

But the most pertinent query of all he asked of the empty streets: “Was there anyone inside…?”

[junk-inthe-trunk-deactivated201]

Was that…? 

Mary sat up slowly, listening. Had she heard something? Shakily, she stood and limped towards the door. Her illness was more pronounced today. Not a good sign. Swinging the door wide open, she called down the stairs.

“Hello? Is someone there?” 

Please… let someone be there.

[comesleetsnoworfog]

Few things ever surprised him around here, but the frailty of the voice filling the hallway beyond startled him just as much as the fact that there was a voice there at all.

“Bunch’a letters ma’am!”

He buttoned his coat right up idly.

“Cold out today, I understand if you don’t fancy lettin’ precious heat out.”

[junk-inthe-trunk-deactivated201]

Mary came out at the sound of the voice. Something about the ease of his voice intrigued her— this wasn’t a lost and haunted soul, not like the others. 

“Please come in to warm up if you’d like,” she called back. Slowly she made her way down the hallway towards the door. “I certainly don’t mind sharing the heat.” She hadn’t noticed it in the first place. “Do I have letters?” 

[comesleetsnoworfog]

He shuffled his shoes slightly, hearing their low gravelly mumble against the tarmac. 

"I hate to intrude miss, but if y'a insistin'..." The postman stepped apprehensively through into the musty hall. Flaked wallpaper curled up to greet him with outstretched leafs of material and plaster. He bent down briefly to look at the unmarked letter. "I can't say I know 'bout the letter."

Peering into the murky living-room his old eyes scanned over piles of old photo-albums and stacks of old records stacked up behind furniture still in it's plastic lining. Their unmolested, pleasing shades of black and brown seemed to defy the ghostly twilight the rest of the room inhabited.

"Is, eh...anybody else home?" Howard queried as he looked ahead to see a young woman descending the flight of stairs at the end of the hall, the brittle banisters seemed barely fit to support the conspicuously absent rats.

'Been a long time since he saw a rat he thought.