hadriel_logs | what part of this sounds like a good idea

Entry tags:

what part of this sounds like a good idea

Who: Sharon da Silva, and you!
What: Haven't you heard? It's a 'party'!
Where: Fear's Temple
When: OCT 7 - 10
Warnings: Cursing, sarcasm, Sharon.

[ There's something going on at Fear's temple. Some people go in, some people leave, some people stay awhile. Maybe you heard it was a party?

Well?

It's not a party. Whoever told you there was a party was lying. There are no streamers in Fear's temple, no candles, or cake. Hell, there's not even music unless someone brings any. Sharon's not a great party planner, it seems. Why would she think she'd have a quiet time giving her fear to Fear when she has friends like Kate (who, in turn, has friends like Faith)? ]

[ ooc: sharon's prompts are in the comments. please feel free to add your own! any character is welcome to come in, and mingle, even if Sharon might not appreciate it. if you want something specific, or have questions, you can message me here or on

lunareism ]

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▍▍▍▍I. OCT 7th

[ Three days.

Fear was asking for three days of her time, and fear, in exchange for some insight into his past with Hope. It felt like more than she should be willing to give up. The information could be nothing, and offer no new leads on either of the gods. It's no wonder it took weeks for her to gather the courage, and will necessary to go through with it.

With a stuffed knapsack pressed at her side, Sharon da Silva stands outside of Fear's temple, expression drawn. She is not looking forward to the next seventy two hours. ]

▍▍▍▍II. OCT 7th

[ The first day is relatively quiet. She tosses her pack in a corner, hops up onto the altar like it's a chair, and pulls out her phone. There's a lot of time to kill, so she spends it texting, and swallowing in deep breaths to keep her nerves steady.

Fuck Fear. ]

▍▍▍▍III. OCT 8th

[ Sharon is uncomfortably aware of her fear. It's a constant presence, impossible to push away. It's ignorable, if she let it, but ignoring her fear wasn't the reason she was here; she had a purpose.

So, even as people come and go, Sharon tries to keep a grip on the fear, nursing it. She puts her attention into her sketchbook, sketching out creatures from memory, scenes that can only come from nightmares. Long limbs, torn flesh, gnarled teeth. Monsters. Sometimes, there's a name to go with the monster. Colin. Leonard. Lisa. Peek, and she'll glare, or cover it up.

When someone enters the temple, she glances up from her work. ] Oh, yeah, hey. It's a fucking party! [ There's a lot of sarcasm there. Oh, hey, she's not sour after the long hours here. ]

▍▍▍▍IV. OCT 9th

[ By the third day, Sharon is testy. Irritable. She's slept little, eaten less, and the constant fear has somehow managed to dredge up memories best left to the rust, and darkness of the Otherworld. Of days spent in the basement of a hospital, alone with only the hum of machinery to bring her comfort. Of the years spent in that same bed as the world around her rotted.

The fear in those moments had been suffocating, overwhelming, and her whole world. A feeling as familiar to her as the beat of her heart—a heart that should have stopped long before she ever reached that hospital bed.

Sharon pulls her feet up, arms wrapping around her knees, a plush animal pressed against her chest. She hadn't meant to bring it, hadn't even meant to keep it, but somehow it brings her some small, childish sense of comfort.

There are only a few more hours to burn, and Fear will owe her. Maybe more than he'd expected given all the foot traffic she brought with her. Let's see this shit through. ]

▍▍▍▍V. OCT 10th

[ Sharon walks out of Fear's temple sometime on the tenth, and upon exiting, and noticing the fucking dragons, she turns right back around.

Fuck that shit. ]

[Mello doesn't waste time after Sharon texts him and tells him where she is. This isn't his first time inside of Fear's temple, and he mentally notes the irony in the fact that it was Sharon who brought him here the first time, too. Just like then, he feels the wave of anxiety wash over him the second he steps inside, and just like then, he inhales deeply and swallows it down. Fear won't get the better of him.

He doesn't announce himself, just walks in and steadily makes his way toward her, slowly unwrapping the scarf that covers his mouth, since they're alone. He silently takes a seat on the ground near the altar and glances up at her.]

So ... are you having fun yet?

( she comes as soon as Sharon explains what's going on, spends the first day lounging in the temple, able to ignore the soft buzz of building fear. she spends too much time afraid, pushes herself too often into situations where she has to confront all the things that make her panic to not be able to deal with it.

after two nights here? it stops being so easy, the images - all imagined, bloody deaths of the people who are still alive - plant themselves firmly in her mind, burn bright in her mind like overexposed film. she hears voices occasionally, the mutterings of long-dead family (who can't possibly speak to her, they're dead and that was just one of her mother's stories) whispering in the recesses of her skull.

all you're good for

she shakes her head and looks over at Sharon, shoulders tense but face otherwise impassive. )

Not long now.

( she stretches her legs out, rolls her shoulders, tries to pretend that she doesn't hear the end of that whisper in her mind

killing killing killing )

[ Sharon snorts quietly beneath her breath, rolling her eyes dramatically, exaggeratedly. The anxious, fear induced bubble in her chest eases somewhat, and she breathes a little easier with him around. ] Oh yeah, I'm having an absolute blast. I am so ready for three days of this bullshit.

[ The sarcasm sounds flat, and forced. The next she speaks, her voice wavers, twinged with fear and anger. ] Or I thought I was, but it's been so long since I've been in here, I forgot how much I hate it.

You don't have to stay, Kate. [ It's a sentence she's said a lot during the last twenty-four hours, and one she foresees herself saying a couple of more times in the future. A part of Sharon appreciates the gesture—a person willing to stay with you through something like this means something—but she finds herself growing a little more frustrated with it as time goes on.

With everything. ]

This was my dumb decision.

Yeah ... not really my first pick for a vacation spot, either.

[Mello leans back lazily against the wall at his back, one knee bent, arm draped over his knee.]

You wanna tell me about what you're doing here? What this is supposed to accomplish.

[What did you bargain for? Is it really worth putting yourself through this?]

I didn't know you were an artist.

[ Cecily meets her friend's gaze, smiling appreciatively at the sarcasm, a pack on her back. She glances from the drawings to Sharon again, the smile fading gradually. ]

You should have told me you were doing this. [ She notes, settling in nearby, her back to a column. ] What is this about?

[ The question hangs in the air, and Sharon lets it, uncertain how to answer without giving too much away, or possibly turning Fear off to the deal entirely; he's got to know everything that's said within these walls, right? She licks her lips, and then laughs quietly to herself. ]

Answers, Mello, I'm hoping to get some answers. [ A sigh escapes her. Fear didn't want to answer a question, a simple, stupid question about his relationship with Hope. Maybe that means something. Maybe the answer will uncover something more for them. Maybe it will be a waste of her time. ] Now, whether they'll be useful or not, I don't really know.

But you think they might be.

[Enough to willingly subject herself to three days in this place. Those answers must be pretty damn important. It's an unconventional method of obtaining something, but Mello certainly can't fault her for that.]

You said you wanted a distraction. What can I do?

[ It seems like a lot to give for something that could turn out to be useless, but someone's got to be willing to get answers out of them—even if it's not one she wants to hear. She taps a finger against the stone, nail clicking against it quietly. She's really not sure what she was asking for, or what will work, but... ]

I don't know. Uh, maybe tell me about something good in your life? [ From back home, from now, it doesn't really matter. ]

[There hasn't been much good in his life, not since he was a small child. Mello scratches the line where scar tissue meets skin above his nose as he carefully considers the request. He'd written once that his first meeting with L was the single most valuable memory he possessed, but that was partly for Near's benefit - Sharon, not a child of the House, wouldn't have the same framework of understanding for the significance of that meeting and the stories he was told.

Sharon herself and the strange friendship he's forged with her in this place is something Mello counts as something good in his life here, but the idea of speaking it so directly feels - not wrong, but awkward. How do you just tell someone how you feel about them? Mello is unaccustomed to doing so, at least in a positive sense; he had no trouble expressing his hatred and anger for Near, but the particularities of friendship between him and Matt went largely unspoken.

No. Maybe Mello will tell her all of these things another time; for now, he offers something else.]

I could tell you about my mother, if you'd like.

Edited 2016-10-12 19:04 (UTC)

I didn't think you needed to worry about this. [ Not with Cullen gone. The last couple of months have been hell on Cecily, she knows that, and the last thing she wanted to do was add to that. She flips the sketchbook closed, letting the stub of a graphite pencil mark her place. ]

I asked him a question, and he didn't want to tell me, so I offered an exchange for the answer. He gave me two options, and I chose this. [ This was her decision. This is how she gets information. She holds up three fingers. ] Three days in here, that's it.

[ It's only been one, though, and already she's irritable. The few times she's allowed herself to doze have been nightmare filled, and startling enough to wake her. ]

[ She wonders if he has to reach so far back because his life has been, ultimately, one of little joy, or if those small pieces of happiness are simply just personal. She doesn't have to think on her answer. ]

Yeah, I'd... I'd like that. I remember you mentioned that she had a garden. [ As he plucked weeds from the orchard's rows. She leans forward, elbows on her knees, attention entirely on him, suddenly grateful. He's already spent his fair share of time in temples thanks to her, and now he's willing to spend more. She'll have to figure out how to repay him. ]

[It's mostly the former - a sad statement of fact on Mello's life, that for as short as it is, it has been largely unhappy and filled with brutality. He nods to Sharon, mouth pursed for a moment as he collects his thoughts. He's spent so much time trying to forget his life from before he was orphaned. Remembering what he once had - security, easy affection, a life where his worth wasn't measured by what he could do - is painful. But this is what friends are supposed to do, right? They share things about themselves, things that are otherwise kept secret, things that could otherwise be used as weapons against them.]

She was ... she was beautiful. Patient, and kind - I'm sure I wasn't the easiest child to raise, but I can't remember her ever raising her voice to me.

[Mello closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall, gloved fingers clasping at the rosary around his neck.]

She loved her garden, and she loved God, and she loved my father, and -

[And she loved me, he almost says, but cuts himself off, mouth pressed tightly closed as he swallows back words that feel too sentimental to speak aloud. If he doesn't say it, if he doesn't give the idea form with words in his own voice, maybe he can keep pretending that the extended absence of love in his life doesn't hurt so much.

Mello inhales a slow breath and opens his eyes, turning toward Sharon as he pulls the rosary over his head and holds it out to her.]

This is the only thing I have left that belonged to her.

[The first creature that enters Fear's temple soars in on a pair of coal black wings. He stops and lands just out of grabbing range, looking Sharon over with a pair of eyes that are far too intelligent for just a mere raven. He harrumphs in the back of his throat, muttering to himself under his breath like he's plotting something dire against all of humanity.

Then he opens up his wings and lets out a loud Caw! to let Ushahin know where he's at. Sharon's not so favorite person will be along in a little while.]

( sorry, Sharon. basic facts about Kate: she's stubborn as muck. )

And you shouldn't be alone for it.

( she knows all about dumb decisions. it's better if others are there.

and the voices... well, she ignores them most of the time anyway. )

[ Sharon hesitates, a sudden gut-rotting fear that, should she touch something so precious of his, it will burn her, but she opens her palm against instinct. The rosary does not burn, does not sizzle her skin like she's some demon, but it feels wrong to touch. This is something special. She fingers the face of the cross, expression distant.

Life is cruel, and unfair. And she finds herself wishing, for just a single moment, that she could have changed his life circumstances. Maybe if one thing went right in his life, happiness wouldn't be something that hurt. ]

I'm sorry. [ It feels like such a useless thing to say in the face of his sorrow. The wound he has is old, and nothing she can say will help mend it. She swallows back another apology, heart heavy. ] You don't have to...

[ ...tell her anymore. The last thing she wants to do is cause him any more unnecessary pain. ]

[ The ravens appearance is startling, and Sharon finds it to be mildly unsettling. She bristles when it gives its call, and scowls in the creature's direction. ]

I will roast you. [ The sound was definitely not appreciated, it seems. ]

It's OK. It was a long time ago.

[He sits back against the wall again, swallowing down the uncomfortable feeling crawling up the back of his throat of having failed at a fairly simple objective. He falls silent for a long moment, peels off his gloves and tucks them away inside his jacket pocket, then glances up at Sharon with a thin smile.]

I guess I'm not very good at this.

Edited 2016-10-14 14:35 (UTC)

[Fetch's eyes narrow at the threat and he takes a few short hopping steps away to make sure she can't follow through with it. Grraww! is what he says, sounding like he's scolding her.]

Don't you dare.

[Ushahin comes walking into Fear's temple, pushing back a lock of fair hair that has fallen into his face. Fetch flies over to him and lands on his right shoulder.]

[ It seems stubbornness is the thread that connects her to all the people she's grown close to within Hadriel, each one of her friends (still a term she uses as loosely as possible) all share the same hardheaded persistence when it comes to what they believe, which makes treating her own life with reckless abandon incredibly difficult. She sucks on her lower lip to keep from frowning further.

Don't they get that it's easier, and better, to suffer alone? ]

What if I'd rather be alone? What if I like being alone?

No, no, you did... [ She swallows her words, and shakes her head, brows creased with concern. She really should have known better. For people like them, happiness isn't something that lasts, and to look back at those moments knowing you'll never have them again just adds pain to the equation. She slides off the altar, booted feet hitting the stone floor with a quiet clap. ]

You did fine. [ She reaches both hands out to take one his, slipping the necklace into it as she does so, and cups it with both of hers. ] I think she'd be proud of you. You... [ She smiles, and then laughs quietly, perhaps even shyly. ] You probably didn't turn out like she expected, but...

You're not a bad person, and you're definitely no monster.

Oh, it's yours. [ Sharon snorts derisively, rolling her eyes. Ushahin is one of the last people she wants to see here. He's capable of seeing too much, has seen too much, and that just manages to put her further on edge. She uncurls her feet from beneath herself, letting them hang over the altar's edge in some attempt to appear at ease, but she is anything but. ]

That makes it even more tempting.

Fetch doesn't belong to me. We're just good friends.

[He steadfastly ignores the creeping sensation that comes into his mind as soon as he enters the temple. It whispers to him how everything he cares about will be taken away from him. He pulls a piece of jerky out of his pocket, letting Fetch snap it up into his beak. Both man and bird watch Sharon with curiosity.]

What are you doing in such a place? [He's been under the impression that people only come here in times of trouble.]

Mm, I don't know if I'd say that.

[Sharon takes his hand in hers, and Mello's heartbeat jumps up into the back of his throat. His gloves are a way of separating himself from the world - no fingerprints, no trace left behind that he was there - and maybe ordinary people wouldn't think twice about having their hand held like this, but for Mello, with his gloves off and nothing to separate his skin from hers, it feels uncommonly intimate - dangerous, even. It scares him, but only a little, and in a way where he's drawn in rather than repulsed by it.]

I think - she'd try to love me all the same, because that's what mothers do. But I don't know if she'd be able to understand what I've become.

[Mello inhales slowly and brings his free hand up to Sharon's, gently covering hers with his own, gaze fixed on both of their hands holding each other.]

My father was a soldier. I don't remember him, he was killed in the war when I was barely a toddler. But I think most people can understand what that kind of war entails - an organized war, fought by armies. They understand that a soldier's job is to kill people, and that's an acceptable reason to take a life. But most people can't understand the kind of war I've fought for the past five years, or the things I've had to do. I don't know if my father ever killed anyone, but I know my mother was proud of him, that he died serving his country and his people, and if he had killed someone, I think she would have been fine with that. It was his duty, as a soldier. I don't think she'd feel the same if she knew about the people I've killed.

[People like Sharon. Mello lightly traces his thumb over the top of her wrist, silently naming the bones underneath the skin from memory, remembering what she looked like when he killed her in that tower apartment while a living nightmare raged around them. Once again, he is struck with a sharp wave of regret for having done so.]

I guess ... I never really thought about what she'd think of me. At the institution where I ended up, it wasn't exactly a requirement that we put our pasts completely behind us, but it was silently encouraged. There were more important things on which to focus our energies. So I didn't really care about whether I was good, only whether I was good enough - I wanted to be the best.

[Mello goes silent again for the space of a breath, then turns his face up to Sharon, mouth quirked in a wry half-smile.]

I thought I was supposed to be making you feel better, not the other way around.

Edited 2016-10-15 03:47 (UTC)

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what part of this sounds like a good idea

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