maskormenace | ➀ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ

Entry tags:

➀ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ

The last time I woke up in a strange place was right after I died.

[ She chuckles, though the sound is tinged with the faintest hint of nervous energy. There's no image to go along with the voice, but the voice is thoroughly female, English and cheerful, if a little ... sarcastic. Whether she's joking or telling the truth is anyone's guess. She sure sounds like she might be joking... ]

So I've spoken to the um, locals and them here a bit, but a second opinion never hurt anyone; This isn't some big Hallowe'en joke, is it? It's not even the right time of year for it. Like everyone here is alive and well and we've all got super powers. I mean yeah I heard the big speech, but how is any of this actually real? We're not all in some weird ... afterlife or anything, are we?

-- I s'pose I should just out and ask, anyway. Anyone know a George Sands? Nina Pickering? George is a tall bloke, bit big in the ears. Nina's a little thing- seriously, she's-- [ uh ] --blonde. And a nurse. They both are, actually. Or they were. And ... Mitchell. It's a last name, but it's what he goes by. Broody, dark hair, probably hasn't bathed in a while- he gets busy. If anyone's seen or knows them, I'd love to hear about it.

... Well, that's it. Thanks! [ click. this is a phone type call, isn't it? Yeah. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She rights herself from the fridge, even going as far as to close it as she watches him explain something she clearly has no memory of. Good job there, Mitchell. ]

The only time you've ever taken me to a club was when you introduced me to Gilbert. H-How could I taste what you were drinking?

[ Nevermind the fact that she can actually blush now; thanks for nothing, blood flow. Not like her mind is giving helpful suggestions as to how she might actually taste his drink. And stuff. What? No. ]

What are you talking about?

No, not Gilbert-- I'm talkin' about--

[When he looks over at her, he catches the little flush in her cheeks. That stops him short--it's cute, yeah; of course she looks cute when she blushes. Not surprising. But it's the blankness under that blush that really catches him up.]

In Wales, Annie.

[And then, it all clicks together.]

You don't remember?

Wales? Wh-What happened to Bristol?

[ Sure, she'd left that little pink house, fairly sure they weren't going to see it again. Or him. But it wasn't because they were moving to Wales. ]

Seriously, stop joking around. We lived in Bristol. You know, little pink house, frustrating neighbours. The crack in the floor?

[ She gestures to the tiled kitchen floor for emphasis, though there's clearly no cracks here. It's strange. ]

[Frustrating neighbors wow that does not even begin to cover it...

People had said that this might happen. It had happened to people around him--their friends show up, don't remember what they're supposed to. However the Porters do what they do, they can't seem to get time correct. But he'd never thought that Annie would have forgotten. He thinks of the cold pressure of her arms around him, in that long white hallway. Her smile, the clasp of her hand in his. Whatever he'd felt for her, or tried not to feel for her--it's enough to turn a girl's head, he can practically hear George--only now none of it has happened. For Annie, none of it's happened.

Jesus. He rubs a hand against his forehead, as he looks away from her. His silence has gone on too long--not that he'd have been able to talk his way out of this one anyways, not with the way he'd leaked the information.]

You don't remember. [He says it again, to himself, like for confirmation.] We had t' move house. We ended up in Wales-- Jesus, Annie.

What's the last thing you remember? Just before you came here, what's the last thing you remember? Who were you with? It's important.

[ Oh no, she is definitely not about to let this go. The silence only has her moving a little closer, arms crossing and tucking her sweater a little tighter around herself, as if subconsciously.

The reiteration of 'you don't remember' draws nothing but a vaguely exasperated look, however. As ... does the rest of his explanation and it's following question. Seriously? She just doesn't remember? None of that happened. ]

I was with George. And Nina- Why did we move house? [ Wait, he said it's important. ] I was at -- [ Vague hand gestures. ] The. Place. The facility. With Professor Jaggat and the medium- And Kemp. --I was keeping George company.

[ Because like hell she was bringing up the whole 'oh yeah, I was planning on being exorcised so I could have a proper afterlife instead of being utterly alone because all of you are jerks but mostly you Mitchell'. ]

Edited 2014-10-09 05:51 (UTC)

[His face doesn't go a shade paler, as he looks at her--nothing so dramatic as that--but there is a slow kind of horror in him, something he'd thought that he was long past. For Mitchell, the facility seems both long ago and very recent. He's spent nearly his whole life washing blood off of his hands--and he had been steeped in so much blood when he'd come there for Lucy, when he'd torn apart all those eager little boys in their white shirts.

And Kemp had sent Annie to Purgatory. Mitchell had felt her go, ripped right out of the world. He feels the urge to press one hand to his chest now, as an echo of that tear twists in him. Annie, just gone, and Kemp smiling at him in the corridor, his face all in shadows in the weird undersea lighting. A fucking monster.

And Lucy. His hand at her throat and her face all pale. How easy that turns to her cheek against the cool of her pillows, and then to her cheek in the puddle of her own blood on the floor. And Annie on the television, the dull crackle of static punctuating her every word.

It all comes back so quickly that it leaves him feeling a little weak in the knees. Stupid, he thinks, but he takes a half a step back from her, staring dully at nothing. There is so much she doesn't remember, so much she hasn't lived yet. How the hell is he going to tell her?

He can't tell her. Mitchell passes a hand over his mouth, rubbing hard--and then he rubs at his face, anxiously. Fucking hell.]

[ And as Mitchell goes through his dozenth mid-life crisis, Annie is left confused and wondering as to what could possibly be so horrible. He might not show it in excess, but she knows when he's been spooked. When he's not in his right mind. Even if it puts her own unease into gear.

He takes a step back just as she steps forward, confusion turning to concern. What could possibly be so awful? ]

What? What's wrong?

[ Although she has an idea that he might not open his mouth for anything. Stubborn fucking vampires. Change of tactic. ]

Why are we in Wales, anyway?

[ Because she'd heard of this, hadn't she? People not being from the right time, not remembering the same things. Maybe it was her inner geek, but it seemed a little easier to accept. Apart from being insanely frustrating. ]

[He's got to tell her something. He can't tell her all of it. (And it's better this way, right? For her. For both of them. It's better.) He rubs his fingers against his forehead, thinking quickly.]

We move house. After-- all of that, with Kemp, and Professor-- [Lucy, Jesus--] Jaggat. We have t' leave Bristol because of them, and we end up in Wales. You, and me, George and Nina.

[All eventually true, if heavily edited. That's how you tell a good lie. Mitchell still sounds a little shaken, even as he's finishing that explanation, but maybe she'll chalk that up to his surprise that she doesn't remember what he does. Please let her assume that, and not press.]

I just-- wasn't expecting this. Sorry.

[ Something. Yeah, that's what it is. Something that rubs her the wrong way in a way she can't quite explain. Like how she'd known Mitchell in his drunken state was something more than just ... being drunk. (On blood, no less.) But he doesn't obtusely seem to be lying, so it's not like she can really accuse him of anything. Nor is she really sure she'd need to. It's just ... a feeling.

Her frown doesn't falter, but she does seem slightly put at ease from his answer. ]

Why did we have to leave? I mean they did seem like religious nutters, but they seemed to know at least a little about what they were doing. Was it just ... safer to leave, in the end?

And ... You came back with us?

[ Because think about it Mitchell. When she's from, what she last remembers. Of you, specifically. You addict. ]

Of course I did.

[But even as he says that, he can approximate what she's thinking of: the scene in the kitchen, the slow way that he'd looked at her. It would be nice if Mitchell could say that times like that were like they'd happened to other people, like the division could be so clean and easy.

But it isn't. He is keenly aware, that it was him. Everything that happened, he did it. All choices that he made, and he can try and wriggle out of it, and blame the blood, blame what he is--

You want forgiveness every day. And it's like Lia is there too, there's this cold press on the back of his neck, colder than even he usually gets. Mitchell stares at nothing.

And then, all at once, he looks around at Annie again. It's like breaking through the surface of the water--one second, focused inward, and then the next he meets her eyes, he straightens his shoulders.]

Yeah. I came back. All of us went together. They made it so Bristol-- wasn't safe, not for any of us. They never intended to help George or Nina, they were just killing werewolves. Dressing it up and calling it 'help', and then murdering them.

But it's safe, in Wales. We find a good place, and we stay there.

[ She thought she knew Mitchell better, honestly. But then he'd been down in the morning so drunk out of his mind that she'd had no third thoughts about leaving the house. She'd thought it was probably for good, at the time.

He still looks the same- of course he does. But there's something about him that seems different. The lost sort of look in his eye, the tension in his back that wasn't always quite as obvious. Maybe whatever happened in Kemp's facility had something to do with it. But, not for the first time, she's not sure she has the stomach to ask.

Just killing werewolves. Her mouth drops a little open, heart hammering and it's a weird enough sensation that it distracts her. Enough to close her mouth and compose her shock into feared agitation. Something in the fridge wobbles and falls to it's side, unnoticed. ]

Those ... Bastards.

[ Nevermind that she'd had her own plans on ... leaving. Probably dodged that religious shaped bullet, right? ]

[He doesn't want her to ask, but he does. He doesn't want to tell her, but he does--but no, he doesn't, he fucking doesn't, because if she knows-- if any of them knows--

The moment feels a little like twisting at the end of a noose, but it passes when Annie does not broach the questions she must have, in her head, the questions of all of the moments in between when she and George drove off in the car and went to that facility. The then and the now. And Mitchell can be happy with that, tell himself that's what he wanted. If he didn't want it, he wouldn't have lied to her.

He nods, now, his smile too grim to be anything convincing.]

Yeah.

[But he reaches out again, steps in to take gentle hold of her arms. It's a restrictive gesture, still, but there's a tenderness to it as well, more an act of comfort than anything else. The little act of poltergeisting, it's a weird contrast with just how real she is beneath his hands.]

But we get out. Everything's all right, afterwards. [He has worked so hard to make it all right.] It all turns out fine, for all of us.

[ Maybe she'll bring it up later, when she's not so Fresh off the Porter. When he's settled into a false (or real enough, logistically) sense of security. Then she'll ask. For now, she simply takes a deep, subconsciously calming breath, and folds her arms against herself. At the very least he's about as touchy-feely as he was before... Well. Before. ]

All of us? 'Cause I know you don't like Nina that much. And from what I saw at the facility, she and George were definitely a couple again.

[ Half a side-eye for you, bruh. ]

Yes, all of us, we--

[...Well. Fair point. He drops the grip on her arm, now that she seems a bit more together.]

We get along all right. We're not-- stayin' up late and having heart-to-hearts-- [And she's weirdly suspicious about me] --but we're all right. We've had to be.

[In case she doesn't believe him, he adds, pointedly:] Really.

Edited (oops icons) 2014-10-10 04:28 (UTC)

[ The skepticism in her look fades as he quips his end. She's got a feeling those heart-to-hearts might have lingered between herself and Nina-- George and Mitchell were always more stubborn about it. Boys. But it seemed enough for now.

And for the second time, on perfect cue, her stomach growls. ]

... I was going to make food, wasn't I?

[Thank God for Annie's humanness, right now. There will soon come a time where he feels less inclined to be grateful, but for now--the moment is broken; they can switch topics. Mitchell glances down at her stomach, with a faint grin.]

Yeah, but-- come on, you don't have t' make anything. I'll take you out.

[ She stops mid heel turn toward the fridge, hesitates, and then turns full back with a placated look upon her face. ]

Normally I would protest, but I don't really think I want to wait to make food. Anything quick here? Horrible, disgusting fast food maybe?

[Pleased at her response, he holds his hand out to her.]

Shake Shack. Their orders of chips? They just dump them into bags. A whole bag of chips, just for you. If it's your birthday, they give you a chocolate milkshake with sprinkles on it, absolutely free. It's completely disgusting, you'll love it.

[ She will take that hand; tally-ho, Mitchell. Even if she'll end up slinging her arm in his once they start walking. ]

Sounds perfect. Do you think they'll let me get away with it if I say I've missed like. Three birthdays?

[He smile around at her, but puts on an air of consideration at her question.]

Ahh, I... think we can convince them. You are really convincing, when you want t' be.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

➀ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject