"Hey chill. You don't see me bringing up your issues." *** Roleplay/ask blog for Travis Grady from Silent Hill Origins (Zero). English & Español friendly. Please read the rules first. Given the nature of the Silent Hill series, expect NSFW (blood and gore, mostly but not exclusively) contents in this blog. Tracking: trxvisgrxdy
Flesh like vellum — the child’s umber visage peers up at him with austere curiosity. “I’m looking for my rabbit,” he says, the corners of his mouth curved downward.
“Have you seen him? His name is Robbie..”
"Haven't seen any rabbits around here, kid. Sorry." Travis replied as he looked at the child before him, figuring he was talking about a real rabbit. His pet, most likely, judging by the sad look on the younger’s face. "What does the little guy look like? Maybe I can help you find him." His past experience helping out a child was not precisely what one would call a great one, but he wasn’t one to let a kid down if there was something he could do to help.
//Been in a super weird silent hill-like mood lately for a couple reasons... one of them being that this town (the one yours truly lives in) tends to get its fair share of “shit i thought we’d only get to see in Silent Hill” every now and then. Just this week, someone tossed a dead body (police reported it even had its hands tied and was blindfolded) in the middle of the street and set it on fire. It all happened past midnight, I think.
Send me a ♫ + a name/url and I’ll shuffle my playlist and use the first song that comes on as inspiration for a drabble story with our characters.
It’s what we do - Pink Floyd@deviloutofhell
That road again…
The one that much to his displeasure often felt like an endless road…
Travis’ eyes werefixed on it yet his mind started to wander far away. Fortunately -orunfortunately-, he knew this place very well to the point where hisinner demons taking over for a short moment wouldn’t make that muchof a difference to his regular driving.
“Soon…”,the word crossed his mind as he looked down to the odometer for asplit second, mostly out of a habit than anything else.
It was the road healways had to take every time his job sent him back to Maine.
Sudden yet faintglimpses of a dreadful past he still wished so bad he couldcompletely leave behind threatened to cloud his mind again, just likethey always did every single time he was getting closer to that area,closer to that cursed town… Thinking about that was something hedidn’t appreciate and, as such, his mind worked hard on focusing onsomething -anything- else. What he’d be doing later that day was agood place to start, he thought. He knew exactly what he’d be doinglater on after the shipment was delivered and his job was done.Calling it a routine would be kind of like looking at it under anegative light, and that was not the case, but it was certainly thesimplest way to put it into words. It was pretty much the same thingany other guy in his line of work would do: Get the job done in duetime then head to the truck stop near the exit of the town to getsome decent at most rest and calling it a day in order to be ready tohit the road again the following morning, though there was a littletwist in his case. The truck stop he had in mind was the samehe’d normally visit during those trips to Maine. There was a smallmotorcycle bar right next to it where bikers and truckers and maybesome other travelers as well as some lost souls would hang around.Going for a drink rarely ever represented much of a trouble to Travisas he would normally have plenty of time to indulge in if he sodesired and, boy, how he was completely up for some of that rightnow. There would always be some rides of different kinds, bikesmostly, parked outside, and there would always be a bunch of peopleinside as well. Simple and far from fancy, but an okay placeregardless, unlike those loud and crowded ratty places you’d see inthe movies. Rather good for drowning any unsolicited thoughts thatcould arise during his stay. If fortune smiled upon him, he’dprobably find him there, just like he’d usually do when payinga visit to that place.
One damnone-of-a-kind guy he is, a thought thatalways wandered in the brunet’s head whenever that man, Jim, daredto cross his mind.
They’d met by amere coincidence, just like nearly every other first meeting. It allhad happened right at that truck stop Travis would be staying atlater that day. Neither had even considered a possibility of meetingagain then, but fate had other plans, and that was something theyeventually found out as they’d see each other every now and thenwhenever Travis was back in town. One would join the other for theevening at that same place near the truck stop, sharing a drink ortwo.
“Don’t think Iain’t noticed the blood…” James would point out during theconversation on one of those evenings, completely unphazed, asunphazed as one would be when talking about something trivial likethe weather or that night’s game. The trucker froze right on thespot, his glance stuck to the table they were sharing, moving then tothe half-empty bottle in his hand; his fingers loosely wrapped aroundthe cold glass.
No words or soundscame out of Travis’ mouth. The man was shocked. How had it beenpossible? He was always careful in his affairs, making sure notto leave any traces of his dirty and highly questionable acts behind,reason why no one in his circle suspected anything and he was stillseen as a rather “normal” person despite his fucked up past bythe very few who happened to know a thing or two about it. Hementally cursed whatever sneaky bloodstains had eluded him whilecovering all his tracks. How silly he’d been that time. Great job,he thought as he continued to kick himself inside, wishing no oneelse besides him had noticed those pesky stains that had gone unseenby him. Now, an explanation was required, he figured. Maybe he couldcome up with something convincing enough that wouldn’t have tonecessarily end up in the murder of an innocent human being.Something like a fight or anything of the sort… yeah, that wouldsurely do the trick to make the man across the table believe therewas nothing too shady going on.
Much to his ownsurprise (not so much now that he looked back at it), and beforeTravis could say anything, Jim made it clear in his own way that,whatever it was he was involved into, he had no interest insnitching. The lack of distress in his eyes was something that Travisdidn’t really know how to react to at first. There was something toit though that he found himself spilling the story of his most recentvictim at that time not long after: a young man who, in his eyes, hadshared some similarities with Richard -Travis’ father-, far enoughto make his other selfstep out of the shadows.Full details weren’t so clear, not even to Travis, for every timethose things happened, it was the Butcher who was in control,rendering his ‘regular’ self useless for the time being, makinghim unable to do anything besides locking himself in the darkestcorners of his mind, hiding until the bloodshed was over. Just bylistening to him, it’d be clear to anyone that Travis was far frombeing proud of his acts, no matter how ‘fresh’ and renewed he’doften feel once everything was done and he was back in control again,once the pain had subsided… for a while. Stone couldn’t help asmall grin after listening to those words; the subtle -on theoutside, at least- conflicts this swirl of emotions were causing onthe trucker were quite interesting to look at, apparently. Heprobably hadn’t been expecting anything like that from him before,so this was probably a quite enthralling surprise, judging by hisgeneral reactions so far towards the brunet’s story. Traviscouldn’t bring himself to care enough to even complain about it atthe time, thinking only until much later just how thankful he wasthat they’d been a safe distance away from the rest of the peoplein the bar that nobody else had been able to hear his littlesecret. Not that many people there would have cared enough toeavesdrop on a conversation between two random men out of all thepeople there that day anyway… but it still gave him some sort ofpeace of mind (fun, heh).
Perhaps it’d beenthe way something already broken inside Travis had visibly shatteredto pieces in front of Jim and fallen apart once again, or perhapsit’d been his need to take his mind as far away as he could from allthose horrid things, somewhat mixed with that old idea that justmaybe alcohol could glue all the pieces of a broken selfback into place and, somehow, fix things -he wasn’t even analcoholic, it was all just an idea he’d heard about many times beforeand tried himself a couple times already, but that never worked out,not even once but, who could really blame a desperate man for tryingone more time anyway?-. All of it became a perfect combination thatended up with both men spending the night together in a random roomat the truck stop’s motel, sharing bed in the middle of the dark;naked bodies pressed against each other until their needs were met,the air around them filled with the smell of sweat and sex as bothdrifted off to sleep later that night.
Never having had anyreal experiences of such nature with other men dragged Travis intoyet another inner struggle that greeted him the moment he got back toreality the morning after, once he realized just what had happenedlast night. It was a considerably smaller struggle if compared tothat one everything about the Butcher always carried along, and onethat receded soon after. There were other things to do first beforebeating himself for what he’d just done with another man. Aninvitation for some coffee -as he figured that’d be a good ideaafter the rather unexpected evening they had just spent together- wasextended yet declined by Stone. Regardless of what had happenedbetween them the previous night, there were no real bonds or tiesbetween them after all, and both knew that very well.
Jim left not longlater after he got dressed, not without taking a good look first atthe marks and small bruises he’d left across the other man’s bodyas well as those the trucker had left on Jim’s as well. They hadparted ways now again and, without him around, Travis’ mind feltonly slightly more at ease so he could organize his thoughts.He slowly got out of bed and took a shower before getting his muchneeded caffeine intake. There was a long trip back home ahead of himand he needed to get an extra kick to get there even when he had thewhole day, or what was left of it to be more precise, to make it backto Ambrose. Luckily for him, his hangover was considerably gentler tohim by the time he reached his eighteen-wheeler. He felt ready toleave, and so he did. Seeing how every single time Jim and him methad been nothing but mere coincidences, there was no real use -ifany- to wonder if they would ever see each other again…
…Little did heknow that, after that particular meeting things would turn into somesort of ritual, and one that would remain the same for the most partevery time they happened to cross paths again: Sharing drinks andstories and whatnot with similar outcomes in a motel room by the endof the night every now and then. What once had been the dreadful taskof visiting Maine, so close to that place that held so many painfulmemories attached to it, had eventually turned into something else, aneat addition to all that violence and bloodshed the existence of theButcher implied and that served as yet another temporary escape fromhis inner demons and the guilt -if he could even refer to it as such-he felt after having ended a life. The piercing pain being around soclose to one of the sources of all the darkness inside him, SilentHill, was still there though, as poignant and unbearable as ever,every time he set foot in there. It was a beast that held on tightlyto him and refused to die.
A light and almostinvisible smirk curled the corner of his lips as soon as a signwelcoming all visitors to the state of Maine was on sight, bringinghim back to the present time.
“Soon…” hewhispered as one hand reached down to the truck’s stereo, turningup the volume just enough to silence the sound of gurgling blood thatkept filling his mind even until then, so many hours and miles later.Hopefully, that’d be all that was left from the Butcher’s mostrecent victim.
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