#solo thread

[chrisgates]

TIMING: July 25th through August 1st LOCATION: Downtown, Oldtown WARNINGS: None SUMMARY: ChrisTopher is having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day week month year. He lost his name, he's having horrible nightmares and he lost his wallet. What else could go wrong?

I'm talkin' to myself in public, dodging glances on the train. And I know… I know they've all been talkin' about me. I can hear them whisper, and it makes me think There must be somethin' wrong with me. Out of all the hours thinkin', somehow I've lost my mind…

“Mr. Gates? Hi - we just need you to sign here if you’re extending your stay.” “Oh yeah sure. That - hm, this is wrong? That’s not my first name. I mean, everything else on here is right except for that.” “Oh? Are you staying in room 237?” “Yeah, I am, but-” “This was the name given at your time of check-in, but we can amend that for you. I just need a valid driver’s license.” “Oh, okay..? That’s weird. Sure, here.. I appreciate that.”

The universe thought itself clever and funny to do such a thing to someone so young and full of hope. Chris would have argued against it if his dad didn’t think it was funny, too.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up a package. Gates, Topher.” “Christopher? Or just ‘Topher’?” “Just Topher.” “Nah, sorry dude, I don’t have anything here with your name on it. You sure it’s just ‘Topher’? ‘Cause I got a ‘Christopher Gates’ here.” “... Yeah, I’m sure. That’s not me.” “Huh, weird. Guess there’s two of you! What a small world, huh?” “Yeah, small… Okay, I guess I’ll check back later.”

Heavy heart pounds after raised voices, suspicious shoulder glances with whispered words. This was trepidation at its finest and it was one of Chris’ very best friends. He knew the feeling better than he knew himself. Life became a delicate dance between the two, always together, always in sync. On bad days, it was hard to tell them apart.

“Drink for Topher!” “Yeah, tha- hey, sorry, that one’s mine.” “I’ve been waiting forever!” “Okay? This one has my name on it, I’m sure they’re making-” “That’s not your name.” “Wh-?? Yes it is.” “Nuh uh! You seriously don’t remember? You did my prom pics and that’s not the name on your business card. How do I know you’re not the one trying to get a free drink??” “I… Because I paid for it?? It’s literally on my receipt!” “Yeah whatever.” “I am so sorry about her. Lemme remake you a new one.” “.... Fine, sure.”

On bad days, he didn’t know who he was anymore. Friendly smiles became knowing and lingering gazes turned to stares. The nightmares that plagued his already troublesome sleep kept him both debilitated and overtly alert. His mind wanted to run, his body wanted to fight — it exhausted him, so much so that he called off of work. The knuckle shaped dent in the dessert fridge door was the last straw.

“Excuse me?” “What?” “Oh, I’m sorry for bothering. Are you that photography guy? Uh, Christopher is it? Sorry, my friend gave me your card and I was-” “Oh my god. That’s not my name.” “Oh. Really? It’s just.. Your picture is on here and I thought you were-” “That’s not me okay? I don’t know who fucking made these but that’s not my name! Where did your friend get this?” “Sorry! I’ll leave you alone..” “No- who gave this to your friend??”

Chris was familiar with the tumultuous waves of irritation that came every few weeks. It was the same rhythm as years prior, a rhythm he hadn’t yet figured out how to interrupt. It stole time from him, lied to him, and made him believe that everyone was out to get him. It seemed to destroy everything he touched. Paranoia was an unwelcome visitor, but at least it was consistent. It kept him inside and away from people, people who could very well set him off. 

Between the nightmares and his ever present confusion on his name, which he was told was stolen and he’d need to get it back, Chris felt like he might explode.

“Hey! Pendejo! You got a problem?” “... No, I don't have a problem.” “You were lookin’ at me funny. See, I don’t like it when people look at me funny so you do have a problem.” “Sorry if you thought that but I don’t have a problem. I’m tired and I was just trying to get home.” “Are you callin’ me a liar?” “... No, I just - I don’t want any trouble. I just want to go home.” “I think he’s callin’ you a liar, man.” “Yeah he is, the fuckin’ gringo. How’re you gonna make it up to me, huh? You got cash? Gimme your fuckin’ wallet!” “Yeah he looks like a bitch with some money. You heard him, bitch! Give ‘im your money!” “I-I don’t… don’t.. carry cash… Please..” “What’s wrong with you?? You fuckin’ stupid or something? Gimme that wallet now!” “Hey, he doesn’t look too good, man. Think we should jet..” “What about that watch, huh? It looks real nice, you owe me that at least.” “....Nn…” “Did he just fuckin’ growl at me? Did you just fuckin’-” “Let’s go! He’s got nothin’! Just leave him, it’s not worth it.” “Shut up! I’m not leaving without my watch!”

The sun was too high that day. It had yet to set and just barely kissed the horizon line when Chris started for the motel. 

“Mama, mama! Look what I got!” “Where did you just go? You know you’re supposed to stay by my side. What is that? What do you have in your hands?” “I found a wallet! But mama, I think some people are hurt.” “What? Why do you say that, honey?” “There’s some people on the floor outside where I found the wallet. I think it belongs to them.” “You know you’re not supposed to take anything off of the floor. Come, show me where you found it.” “Right over here mama! Look, look! They’re on the ground.. I think they’re hurt. Like Peanut, right? They look like Peanut did.”

A blood curdling scream erupted from alley. The wallet and blood were passed onto new, lawful eyes and the scene, corralled. There were many deaths in Wicked’s Rest, but not many of them had names.

Chris never made it to the motel.

[portraitofadisaster]

Hollow || Elias Solo

Timing: Current

Location: Home

Warnings: Mental health

Summary: Elias receives messages from his family. It reminds him of what he ran from.

June 18th, 12:16 pm Mom: When are you going to talk to us again?

June 18th, 4:28 pm

Ahmir: We’re worried about you, Eli. Please call Mom.

June 20th, 8:15 am

Dad: It’s been two months since we’ve last heard from you. At least let us know that you’re alive.

June 27th, 1:11pm

Elias: I’m alive. 

[Unsent: I’ve found a place to live and have met new friends. I’m trying to get better.]

[Unsent: I’m sorry that I’m a failure]

Elias stared at his phone in silence for what felt like hours. It had been two months since he had left home to find himself. All he had left for his family was a long-winded voicemail to his mother saying that he needed to start over and felt like his life wasn’t his own and out of control. He had spent years studying to get into a good college, and then spent years studying in college to graduate at the top of his class. Valedictorian of the class of 2009. He had given a speech about how important their education was, and how they would go on to do great things and be great people.

It had been bullshit.

He had worked as a medical engineer for 13 years, always well-liked by his peers. He wore a smile on his face and did everything that came his way to the best of his abilities. He had always gotten stellar performance reviews. He had been making six figures and had his own home. His parents only had to worry about him finding someone to settle down with and get his head out of the clouds. 

It had been a sham.

He had hiked the pacific crest trail with his friend. It had taken him three months, a feat in itself. His friend had left a month in due to an injury. Elias kept on. He hiked and slept, bathed in rivers, and set his food high in the trees to avoid the bears. He had worked hard to train for that trip, which should have been the height of his athletic accomplishments. 

It felt like a hollow victory.

Now, he sat in the spare room of Gael’s house while working at a bar, constantly asking him to perform the strangest of tasks he found himself compelled to do. He found himself divulging information about himself to complete strangers, only to have them smile in delight. He was now told not to say thank you, to be careful who he trusted. He had seen things that defied logic and explanation. 

So maybe he had been working a job he wasn’t happy with. He made good money. He had a family that loved him and was worried about him. He was finally making friends that didn’t care that he was a little strange. So why did he still feel so empty? A hollow part of him needed to be filled like something was missing. This town was as strange as it had claimed to be and more, almost too much so. But some mysteries demanded answers, things that defied logic and needed an explanation. 

So, sat in that spare room, the only light illuminating the room was his computer. He typed into the search bar one phrase:

Wicked’s Rest cryptid sightings

[minni-vidmaenko]

It didn’t hit her when she woke up, but by the time Minni was dressed something felt off. It wasn’t big, more like something she was suppose to remember. She had only eaten half her breakfast when it clicked. She left the plate and sprinted up stairs, not caring who she passed or bumped into. It wasn’t a new feeling, just the opposite, she couldn’t feel her magic.

She tried to keep from panicking, but found herself practically ripping drawers from the cabinets as she grabbed for candles and supplies. Her hands shaking as she tried to light the candles, having to strike the match a few times before it caught. “Please, Please!”

The incantation was stuttered and her breathing was fast.  The last word left her lips and she waited. And waited. Her heart started to race, and she tried to stay calm. “No, no nonooonono.” It hadn’t worked. Just like growing up, nothing had ever worked. The tears came as easily as the magic had went away. She tried to rationalize it, that she was just having an off day. But it was right in front of her, or rather it wasn’t. Because it was gone.

Minni crawled over and put her back up against the foot of her bed. Sobbing she tried to calm down, but all she could think of was how useless she was. She hadn’t been able to find any thing to help the immortals, and now she didn’t have any magic. Would any one be able to tell? Would they even care? It wasn’t like she had been doing anything with her magic. Parlor tricks. She closed her eyes and let the walls close around her as she felt the world she had finally built for herself crumble.

[metamorphingus]

PREVIEW POST!

((OOC: So I have finally put together my first long thread. I’m putting it out in 7 parts over 7 days starting on monday, I will try and do it around midday ACST.... try.

I’m so nervous and excited!))

[minni-vidmaenko]

Exposed

Minni had expected a lot of things when her magic came to her. She hadn't expected was the tears streaming down her face as she reached for something off of the drawers. Anything that had a little weight to it. She grasped a ceramic nic nac and threw it against the opposite wall as hard as she could, screaming. It was the first time she didn't think to stop herself, didn't stop to think what anyone else might hear or think. A bigger part of her than expected actually gave way watching it shatter and she sunk to her knees sobbing. Before she would have pulled herself together, before it wouldn't have hurt. Or at least she would have known why. She didn't know why it hurt, or why was she scared. She couldn't tell and right now she couldn't bring herself to calm down enough to try and understand. If she could have there was a lot going on. Beyond just having an almost life long numbness lifted in one day overwhelming everything. There was the fact that her own father had done this to her. She'd known that since got to Carden but it had just been a fact. Something that might have made her slightly mad when she remembered it, but Minni hadn't  been able to wrap her head around what he had actually taken from her. And sure, it wasn't like the world was suddenly vibrant colors where it had used to be gray. But that part of her that had tried so hard for years to reach into the world and feel something, it finally found purchase. Like stepping into a stream on a hot day. It was a relief and a connection to something she would always have. He'd kept that from her and it hurt. Minni kept her knees against her chest and sat there for a long time. As slowly the sobs came and went. And here she found something else new. Before when her anger or sadness had subsided it had simply fallen beneath her skin until something else brought it forward. To rest forever heavy on her chest. Now though, it was leaving. Oh she knew she would cry again but maybe not over her father. Because it was over, she could let go of what he'd done, let go of him and all his ideals. She watched the sun set and for the first time couldn't wait to see it again. As she lay there exhausted and falling asleep she let herself imagine what it would be like if she could actually swim.

[minni-vidmaenko]

How could this have happened? What in the gods green earth possessed the Devereauxs to spare the human. Celestina kept going over that moment in her mind.

She had called everyone to order, explained formally what they were there for and how the vote would proceed. It had made her happy to see Aurora sitting with her betrothed. At least something seemed to be coming from that. She had then started them off with her confident Yes. Her son followed her immediately.

Thierry and Augustine were two Nos, but she hadn't been worried. It was just the rest of the Original Witches, and the Alpha who she had been sure would follow Brigid's decision. She had been so sure.

Her composure never broke, even when Aurora sided against them. She was still certain they could win. It would be a closer vote than she thought, four to six, but her hope that this was a coordinated act of rebellion from the two was dashed when the Alpha sided with Victoria.

Celestina pulled the last of the weeds from her rose bush. Ignoring the scratches. She moved on to the center of the garden next to the well. It didn't make sense, the entire reason the Devereaux family and there pack was here was because humans had slipped past there defenses once already. How could they choose this moment to show mercy? Her fingers flexed as she dug through the earth letting her thoughts slow. Eventually she pulled at the earth with her mind, pulling its energy to her. With that she opened her eyes to the world around her and watched as the stars danced over head and began falling into the manor and the grounds. Slowly patterns began to emerge but before she could fully see them the strength she had pulled was gone and she let the spell drop. She would need more practice, but she wouldn't be taken by surprise again.

[annihilyza]

Remembrance & Renewal

This time, it was quiet. 

There was no wind howling through the hills, no heavy breaths and grunts of pain. No tension and ache in tired muscles, strained eyes keeping watch through the night.

For the first time in 12 years, Lyza stood at the foot of the mass grave of more than a dozen master delvers, hastily buried in a ring around the hard soil of a hill below the mists of the goblets. There was naturally little left to distinguish the site after so long; what little markers had been left were scattered or worn away by time, and all that remained was the sparse cluster of eternal fortunes stubbornly claiming the crest, and the rotted remains of a single broken helmet, buried in the dirt.

The resolve she had mustered when she decided to come here was the only thing keeping her emotions in check, and she stiffly proceeded through her plans one step at a time. She could only trust that her masked friend shadowing her in the distance was considerate enough to keep their distance.

Spirits, incense, and food Lyza had prepared as offerings, and she laid them out one by one as she knelt before the patch of blossoms, working through a mix of rites for the dead cobbled together from delving traditions and abyssal faith. One by one, she spoke aloud the names of her friends, her companions and for each of them she found kind words of remembrance, until her voice struggled on the last, the reason for her visit. 

“....Torka.”