who: Helena and others! what: March catchall log when: All month where: Across campus warnings: Potential gore, body horror, psychological horror in dreamscapes.
the dirt of the forest floor grows harder, firmer. feet moving to the clack against wooden boards, it growing darker - no, that's just the curtains that have been shut against the light. the faint scent of leaf rot fading down, the sensation of dust in the throat, needing to cough or sneeze. the world closes in, the air gone stagnant - tick tick tick on the clock. his clothes, more noticeable, every movement. what's close, what's not. what's leaking into his senses, corroding, consuming, while his movements feel heavier and slower.
prickling on his skin. bitter aftertaste. faded flowers.
there's a door before him, and he can smell the fresh paint on it. the doorknob creaks too loudly. the metal is too cold. it's his choice, but there's only the floor under him, and the door.]
[Shin chokes into his scarf, burying mouth and nose into it against the dust and sudden sharpness of scent, but that doesn't help when it carries it's own, thick and strong, his own breath and sweat, bitter laundry powder. Hunching his shoulders and burying his ears into it on top of the hair usually covering them only helps so much, he's used to too-loud noises but he can hear his beanie move against his hair as he pulls it down to cover them and he can't not notice it. He chooses clothes more for comfort than anything else, and he is so, so aware of them.
It's a sensory cacophony, and he spends a long time in front of the door just grappling with it. This... is someone doing this? Why can't he turn it off!? He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, cringing at the cold, cold doorknob as he turns it.]
[as soon as he shuts his eyes and breathes, his senses reorient. the world is no longer too much, but realigned - things are a little stronger, but not so much as to undo him. just a fraction more, thrown into a new focus, and the door opens with a creak of the normal volume.
the room he walks into is large, more than enough for a single person, but something in the air feels like it hasn't been opened in days, that something's been there but hasn't moved an inch. sunlight comes through the window, illuminating rich carpet, furnishings that look comfortable enough to easily sink into, a fireplace with wood to be lit. books on shelves, small curiosities, an hourglass that flows...both directions, leading to a net zero. if he squints, the edges have a digital haze, an endless stream of sand with the faintest of sounds. outside, the world looks peaceful, beautiful - a river flows nearby in the forest landscape, so close that if one could have opened the window, they could have jumped right in. but there is no latch to open - none of the windows have it.
lying on the couch, sprawled out as though she simply collapsed from tiredness and went to nap, is Helena, cane propped up to the side and in the same white dress he would have seen in Narumi's heart. still, the necklace is there too, faintly glowing on her chest. it's too still. inlaid in amber.
blink, and lines upon lines of code cross his vision. blink, and they are gone.]
[Shin... cautiously unfolds, removing his other hand from his ear. His gaze sweeps across the surroundings he's never seen before, lingering unnervedly on the hourglass before he spots Helena lying on the couch.]
...!
[He's starting towards her immediately. That's a familiar outfit... Shin tries not to think about if his body is collapsed somewhere on the forest floor. If he can just quickly wake her up and get out back the way he came...]
Hele- a- na?
[A stutter, in his voice and in the world, outstretched fingers curling as he comes to a halt, swallowing thickly. What was that...?]
[he's rewarded with her stirring, making a small noise of discontent before her eyes open and her face registers the voice.]
...Shin?
[still groggy, she sits up slow, taking off her glasses to rub her face. however long she's been sleeping, she's still tired - or maybe it's something in this place. it's difficult to tell.]
How did you get in here? Magic?
[the world is settled, for now. but there's no telling what will happen next.]
[He wishes... this would be way too advanced for him, if even the soul-ripping circle alone is any indication. The relief when she wakes up is palpable.]
I followed you... We're probably both in the forest, right now. Whatever's doing this... it's not me.
[Which is, you know, deeply worrying. There was that voice talking about dreams... everything has that tinge to it.]
Let's get out of here... Quickly. The door should be...
[He's casting around for it... He didn't close it, in the small hope that would actually help.]
There was... it was right there! You've got to be kidding...
[But there is indeed no door... Shin regards the furniture innocently making this disappearance visually congruous as one does betrayal. He had the sense something like this might happen, because that would have been too easy... but that doesn't mean he can't dislike it. So that's why she asked if it was magic. The hairs on his neck are prickling fiercely, and the strengthened senses aren't helping the sensation, or the strained, stressed note in his voice.]
...How long have you been here...?
[Long ago... it's the kind of question where like with the door you would like the result to not be concerning but deep dread is pooling in your gut.]
...I saw you go into the forest fifteen minutes ago!
[Or... it felt like that long. Can he be sure? There wasn't much in the way of landmarks, and it's not like he kept checking his phone...]
Fifteen minutes ago I was asleep. You woke me up...
[she seems genuinely baffled by his statements, slowly rising from her seat. without shoes, her footsteps are quieter, and she makes no move to pick up the cane just yet. she uses her hands to navigate the room, brushes against things to relocate to the window seat.
the beautiful day hasn't left, but a few stray clouds drift across the sky, a little too low to be innocent. they think of rain, and the image presses against Shin's mind before letting go, like his scarf being snagged and needing to be readjusted.
a held breath, a mobius strip. then exhale, but the twist is still there, right along the path to your gut when you swallow. (blood lifts from fabric with cold water and work.)]
...I couldn't tell you how long I've been here, though. Every time I restart the count, I lose my place. Weeks, months, longer...? Your guess is truly as good as mine.
[With no visible exit, he follows her over, looking outside. Looks like rain... then the readjustment of the suddenness of the thought, like a ball bearing flicked into a pinball machine... not supposed to be there, but slotting in a little too well, going around and disappearing and... did the number change? He feels off-kilter, slowly sitting down on the other end of the window seat and drawing up one of his knees to lean his arms on.]
You can't... smash the window?
[Helena's strong, stronger than him at least and also a strong swimmer... she could probably do it. Maybe she's tried already. But... that's thinking about it the wrong way, right? Something is definitely going on beyond that... that code... he didn't get a chance to read it.]
Ahaha... that'd be too easy, wouldn't it... It'd just fix itself.
That's a poor joke. I'm too weak to smash anything.
[folding her hands in her lap, she sighs and leans back some, settling fully into the seat.
the river below, one can hear it from here. flowing onward, away, wherever rivers go. over rocks, through fields. home to so many small things, bringing life to the world. almost like a lullaby, in its rhythm.]
[He wasn't trying to joke at all... Maybe it's just the way she carries herself, that he made that overestimation, like she's made of spans of grey steel. He's seen that elsewhere.
The sound of the river is soothing, calming... in chorus with the warm sunlight it asks if he wants to rest, and he is very tired... in many respects. He so very deeply wants to, and he finds himself leaning his weight against the glass, eyes half-lidded and head jerking up a little, because of that tiniest thread, like a razorblade in a pocket or a bitten tongue. That 'you can't rest now, there are monsters nearby' ticking in his chest, and fighting against the question of if just a while wouldn't hurt, in a place where they can't get out but nothing can get in.
This place is hypothermia; if he sleeps, will it be the both of them, frozen like she was before? With all the effort of someone venturing out on a polar expedition from a warm futon, he places his dangling leg on the floor, then the other, then leans up with his arm, and starts pacing.
He can hear, more than usual, the creak of his slight weight on the floorboards under the muffling thick carpet, guess where the join is from them, feel how they shift, how the air moves around him as he does... he shuts his eyes again to reorient, and heads over to the hourglass. Cautiously tapping it with a fingernail to make the glass ring, his head turns towards Helena.
Hey, Helena... This hourglass is pretty suspicious. Wonder why it's here... You got any ideas?
[If she's been here as long as she says she has, then she probably knows more about this room than he does... he doesn't want to start trying things without gathering some information first. Messing with variables without knowing what they do is asking for a bad time... but also that same apprehension about falling asleep extends to her.]
[it still has a strange glow, as if rendered on a screen instead of in reality, the digital edge and its faint cast. it doesn't vibrate, doesn't break - it acts like a normal hourglass, save for the suspension, the double flow. however, if he ventures to pick it up...it's heavy, as if it's made of metal instead of glass and wood. the sand has an unnatural heft to it, and even if turned and tilted, the internal flow doesn't cease.
Helena seems startled by the sound, and tilts her head.]
The hourglass? It's been here for as long as I can remember. What's so suspicious about it?
[meanwhile, the river runs, and so does the sand. endless, endless - as natural as breathing, a flow that simply proceeds onward. for now, his senses are normal, and the beautiful cage gives him no malice to feed off of. it simply...is, for its decoration and purpose. big enough to move around, to offer something, but not big enough to be free. still no doors, no hinges.]
[Right, she wouldn't be able to see how it glows like that... it doesn't feel that different to the touch either, as he tentatively picks it up to examine it further (what would a digital object feel like anyway?). It makes his hairs prickle.]
Ah it... doesn't look like the rest of the room, that's all.
[Which is interactive object 101. It has to be deliberate, doesn't it? It's some kind of focus. The question is what puzzle's intended by it, or if it's a trap. Oof, he has to put it back down again with a thonk after a while when his arms start shaking.
It's the seed of a thought in the back of his head. The only way to get out of here is to... find some way to break this place, in a way it can't repair. Which is dangerous, given they're inside it; the very idea means there's no recourse if things go wrong. But, this hourglass is the focus; trying to glitch things more conventionally could take ages of trial and error. It's part animal instinct involved.]
Ahaha... would you mind if it broke?
[It's only fair to give her some warning, since he's got time for it. This isn't a panicked reckless decision, it's a considered one.]
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shin.
the dirt of the forest floor grows harder, firmer. feet moving to the clack against wooden boards, it growing darker - no, that's just the curtains that have been shut against the light. the faint scent of leaf rot fading down, the sensation of dust in the throat, needing to cough or sneeze. the world closes in, the air gone stagnant - tick tick tick on the clock. his clothes, more noticeable, every movement. what's close, what's not. what's leaking into his senses, corroding, consuming, while his movements feel heavier and slower.
prickling on his skin. bitter aftertaste. faded flowers.
there's a door before him, and he can smell the fresh paint on it. the doorknob creaks too loudly. the metal is too cold. it's his choice, but there's only the floor under him, and the door.]
yessss
It's a sensory cacophony, and he spends a long time in front of the door just grappling with it. This... is someone doing this? Why can't he turn it off!? He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, cringing at the cold, cold doorknob as he turns it.]
no subject
the room he walks into is large, more than enough for a single person, but something in the air feels like it hasn't been opened in days, that something's been there but hasn't moved an inch. sunlight comes through the window, illuminating rich carpet, furnishings that look comfortable enough to easily sink into, a fireplace with wood to be lit. books on shelves, small curiosities, an hourglass that flows...both directions, leading to a net zero. if he squints, the edges have a digital haze, an endless stream of sand with the faintest of sounds. outside, the world looks peaceful, beautiful - a river flows nearby in the forest landscape, so close that if one could have opened the window, they could have jumped right in. but there is no latch to open - none of the windows have it.
lying on the couch, sprawled out as though she simply collapsed from tiredness and went to nap, is Helena, cane propped up to the side and in the same white dress he would have seen in Narumi's heart. still, the necklace is there too, faintly glowing on her chest. it's too still. inlaid in amber.
blink, and lines upon lines of code cross his vision. blink, and they are gone.]
no subject
...!
[He's starting towards her immediately. That's a familiar outfit... Shin tries not to think about if his body is collapsed somewhere on the forest floor. If he can just quickly wake her up and get out back the way he came...]
Hele- a- na?
[A stutter, in his voice and in the world, outstretched fingers curling as he comes to a halt, swallowing thickly. What was that...?]
no subject
...Shin?
[still groggy, she sits up slow, taking off her glasses to rub her face. however long she's been sleeping, she's still tired - or maybe it's something in this place. it's difficult to tell.]
How did you get in here? Magic?
[the world is settled, for now. but there's no telling what will happen next.]
no subject
I followed you... We're probably both in the forest, right now. Whatever's doing this... it's not me.
[Which is, you know, deeply worrying. There was that voice talking about dreams... everything has that tinge to it.]
Let's get out of here... Quickly. The door should be...
[He's casting around for it... He didn't close it, in the small hope that would actually help.]
no subject
There's no door, Shin. If there was, I would have found it long ago.
[and true to her word, the wall is smooth. things rearranged, so it doesn't look out of place. where there was a door, there is nothing.]
What do you mean you followed me?
no subject
[But there is indeed no door... Shin regards the furniture innocently making this disappearance visually congruous as one does betrayal. He had the sense something like this might happen, because that would have been too easy... but that doesn't mean he can't dislike it. So that's why she asked if it was magic. The hairs on his neck are prickling fiercely, and the strengthened senses aren't helping the sensation, or the strained, stressed note in his voice.]
...How long have you been here...?
[Long ago... it's the kind of question where like with the door you would like the result to not be concerning but deep dread is pooling in your gut.]
...I saw you go into the forest fifteen minutes ago!
[Or... it felt like that long. Can he be sure? There wasn't much in the way of landmarks, and it's not like he kept checking his phone...]
no subject
[she seems genuinely baffled by his statements, slowly rising from her seat. without shoes, her footsteps are quieter, and she makes no move to pick up the cane just yet. she uses her hands to navigate the room, brushes against things to relocate to the window seat.
the beautiful day hasn't left, but a few stray clouds drift across the sky, a little too low to be innocent. they think of rain, and the image presses against Shin's mind before letting go, like his scarf being snagged and needing to be readjusted.
a held breath, a mobius strip. then exhale, but the twist is still there, right along the path to your gut when you swallow. (blood lifts from fabric with cold water and work.)]
...I couldn't tell you how long I've been here, though. Every time I restart the count, I lose my place. Weeks, months, longer...? Your guess is truly as good as mine.
no subject
You can't... smash the window?
[Helena's strong, stronger than him at least and also a strong swimmer... she could probably do it. Maybe she's tried already. But... that's thinking about it the wrong way, right? Something is definitely going on beyond that... that code... he didn't get a chance to read it.]
Ahaha... that'd be too easy, wouldn't it... It'd just fix itself.
[Like the door.]
no subject
[folding her hands in her lap, she sighs and leans back some, settling fully into the seat.
the river below, one can hear it from here. flowing onward, away, wherever rivers go. over rocks, through fields. home to so many small things, bringing life to the world. almost like a lullaby, in its rhythm.]
no subject
[He wasn't trying to joke at all... Maybe it's just the way she carries herself, that he made that overestimation, like she's made of spans of grey steel. He's seen that elsewhere.
The sound of the river is soothing, calming... in chorus with the warm sunlight it asks if he wants to rest, and he is very tired... in many respects. He so very deeply wants to, and he finds himself leaning his weight against the glass, eyes half-lidded and head jerking up a little, because of that tiniest thread, like a razorblade in a pocket or a bitten tongue. That 'you can't rest now, there are monsters nearby' ticking in his chest, and fighting against the question of if just a while wouldn't hurt, in a place where they can't get out but nothing can get in.
This place is hypothermia; if he sleeps, will it be the both of them, frozen like she was before? With all the effort of someone venturing out on a polar expedition from a warm futon, he places his dangling leg on the floor, then the other, then leans up with his arm, and starts pacing.
He can hear, more than usual, the creak of his slight weight on the floorboards under the muffling thick carpet, guess where the join is from them, feel how they shift, how the air moves around him as he does... he shuts his eyes again to reorient, and heads over to the hourglass. Cautiously tapping it with a fingernail to make the glass ring, his head turns towards Helena.
Hey, Helena... This hourglass is pretty suspicious. Wonder why it's here... You got any ideas?
[If she's been here as long as she says she has, then she probably knows more about this room than he does... he doesn't want to start trying things without gathering some information first. Messing with variables without knowing what they do is asking for a bad time... but also that same apprehension about falling asleep extends to her.]
no subject
Helena seems startled by the sound, and tilts her head.]
The hourglass? It's been here for as long as I can remember. What's so suspicious about it?
[meanwhile, the river runs, and so does the sand. endless, endless - as natural as breathing, a flow that simply proceeds onward. for now, his senses are normal, and the beautiful cage gives him no malice to feed off of. it simply...is, for its decoration and purpose. big enough to move around, to offer something, but not big enough to be free. still no doors, no hinges.]
no subject
Ah it... doesn't look like the rest of the room, that's all.
[Which is interactive object 101. It has to be deliberate, doesn't it? It's some kind of focus. The question is what puzzle's intended by it, or if it's a trap. Oof, he has to put it back down again with a thonk after a while when his arms start shaking.
It's the seed of a thought in the back of his head. The only way to get out of here is to... find some way to break this place, in a way it can't repair. Which is dangerous, given they're inside it; the very idea means there's no recourse if things go wrong. But, this hourglass is the focus; trying to glitch things more conventionally could take ages of trial and error. It's part animal instinct involved.]
Ahaha... would you mind if it broke?
[It's only fair to give her some warning, since he's got time for it. This isn't a panicked reckless decision, it's a considered one.]