I think I’ve been praying the lights won't go out

[thechoiceisyours]

Who: The UD cast and any visitors!
What: General catchall, especially because of new arrivals and the upcoming event
Where: House 1503
When: 02/10 to 03/01ish
Warnings: Probably discussions of canon events, which would include warnings for all sorts of horror stuff, as well as the wendigo event and all that entails.

[ooc: Catch-all log! Feel free to make your own starters (including as many scenarios/threads as you want), and indicate in the subject generally when the starter takes place. Anyone who would have reason to visit/be in the area is welcome to comment!]

Comments

2/10: closed to Ashley

[unfollowing]

[Once Mike and Emily found their way out of the coliseum, they'd headed straight for the house. Lucky Mike knew where it was, or else Hadriel would've had to deal with Emily demanding directions and lodging and all manner of other things.

At the house, Chris helped her get the bite wound cleaned up, and she'd rooted around for one of Sam's spare shirts. (She'd wound up with a green top with three-quarter sleeves. The fabric is department store quality at best, but it's not like Emily can be choosy right now.)

Now that she's changed and at a significantly reduced risk of infection, Emily heads out into the kitchen to make herself some coffee or tea, whichever she finds first.

And lo, someone else already beat her to the room.]

Should I leave the kitchen before you start threatening to slit my throat?

[Emily is aware that Ashley doesn't know what she's referencing. Chris updated her on all of that earlier. But that's not going to stop Emily from bringing it up, from letting Ashley know what she almost contributed to, and from berating her for it. Hell, Ashley's ignorance of it makes Emily even angrier, because she's pulling this sweet and innocent act that is such a goddamn lie. Ashley's as capable of being a bitch as the rest of them, and Emily won't let her forget it.]

[cowardley]

Emily? [ The sharp bite to the other girl's voice doesn't register immediately, and when it does, it's not at the forefront of her mind. It's certainly more acidic than she expects, but it's easily written off as Emily just being Emily, and dealing with a stressful situation.

It's obvious the other girl just arrived, and when she spots the neck wound, her expression immediately turns to one of genuine worry. ] Oh gosh, are you ok?

[unfollowing]

[Sarcastic doesn't even begin to describe the smile Emily gives Ashley as she walks further into the room. She sees Ashley's gaze drift down to her neck, watches how her face changes.

She wants to slap this moron all over again because fuck you, that's not what you said in the basement.

But one thing gat a time.]

Funny how that's not what you said to me before I got here. [Yes, she's going to drag this out.

She stops far enough away from Ashley that the idiot won't feel her personal space breached quite yet. Her 'smile' turns into a sneer.]

You wanna know what happened? How I got this? [She motions to her shoulder with her head, careful not to twist her neck so much that she ends up tugging on the bite. It doesn't hurt much anymore, but she'd rather not deal with any pain right now. Unless it comes from slapping Ashley. That would be worth it.]

[cowardley]

[ Ashley recognizes the animosity as Emily steps closer, and confusion couples with her worry. Sure, they've never been the best of friends, and there's certainly been a few fights, but without all the information, Ash just feels lost. ]

I... Well, if you want to talk about it. [ Let's be real, Em is a little predatory right now. She takes a quick glance behind her, and then her gaze returns to her friend. ] I could make us some tea, or coffee, and then we can talk?

[unfollowing]

[It doesn't matter that things were different in the basement, that they're totally different here. People deserve to know the truth, right? And Emily's never been shy about dishing it out when nobody else wants to.

She widens her eyes in a mockery of fear.] A wendigo bit me, Ash. God, what am I gonna do? [She is not at all hiding the sarcasm in her voice, all affected and simpering until she narrows her eyes again. Then it's cold again, sharp, and yes, predatory.] Forget coffee. What would you do if a fucking wendigo took a bite out of your shoulder? What would you want us to do?

22ndish; for chris.

[bekommen]

[Everything is awful right now, and there's no end in sight, of course, but some things never change - people still gotta eat. Those who haven't already eaten people are definitely taking a closer look at their food supplies these days, and a group this big needs frequent supply runs anyway. It's just smarter to not go out alone; everyone knows that. Nick doesn't typically find herself with an overabundance of hope, but the fact that Chris has already survived actual fucking wendigos makes him an obvious choice, and it also makes Nick feel slightly less nervous about being outside when there are monsters afoot.]

Hey. You ready?

[thechoiceisyours]

[When Nick had suggested going on the supply run it didn't take much consideration for Chris to agree; it's dangerous outside, but with two partially transformed wendigo in the house already it's really no more of a risk. Considering how stressed and exhausted everyone is--he's pretty sure no one's getting much sleep--they need even more food than usual to make up for it as well, and since they'd had to completely get rid of everything with meat in it keeping enough food in stock has been more than a bit of a challenge.

Focusing on that problem is a great distraction from the much larger ones at hand, too.]

Yeah. Guess so.

[It's not enthusiastic, but without hesitation. Let's do this.]

So okay, plan is to stick together, and freeze if you see anything that even sort of looks like a wendigo.

[Pretty simple plan, just also one that sounds a lot easier than it is. But that's why he has Mike's second gun with him, hidden under his jacket; the wendigos will be mostly transformed but not completely, and therefore the weapon might possibly be useful even as just a distraction.]

[bekommen]

Right. [She laughs quietly, one of those not-funny sounds you make when your choices are either laughing or screaming.] What could possibly go wrong?

[She should know better, really. She's seen enough horror movies to know that you never say that.]

Lead the way, [she says, with a sweeping wave of her hand.]

[thechoiceisyours]

Hey, you're with a wendigo expert, okay? Nothing's going to go wrong.

[It's a completely unfounded statement, but a hopeful one. Yes, the chance is really high that they're going to run into trouble, but maybe they won't. Maybe.

He nods at the last comment, turning to open the door to outside. Okay. Just a quick run to the stores, which thankfully aren't that far, then they'll come right back.]

Yeah. Let's go.

[He leads the way out, cautious and slow at first until he's sure there's nothing lurking right outside the house, then picking up the pace a bit; he's just not that fast in general though, especially with his bad knee, which is for the best anyway. They need to spot wendigos before wendigos spot them.]

Just... Keep an eye out.

[He adds, quietly, back toward Nick.]

[bekommen]

Chris the Wendigo Expert. That's pretty catchy - you should get business cards made or something.

[She flashes him a grim smile, easily keeping pace with his stride.]

Go hand 'em out at conventions and shit. You think they have conventions for that sort of thing? Workshops on how to kill monsters, how to survive in the woods with nothing but a pocketknife and a lighter?

[Maybe they'll be lucky, but Nick isn't holding her breath. She knows the shade her own luck tends to take.]

3/01ish | OPEN

[thechoiceisyours]

[It's all over.

Or as much as it can be, anyway; Rage has killed the remaining wendigos that weren't already taken out by people here, ending the threat for the moment. Hope should begin to bring people back and they'll be okay, at least as much as they can be after going through what they went through.

Chris himself had again survived, albeit with some injuries, and so had Ashley and Mike. But Sam had disappeared halfway through everything and hasn't returned, so he assumes whatever happened to Mike a few months ago happened to her; and then there's Josh and Emily...

There had been a cure, this time, and they still hadn't managed to save them. Either of them. If it weren't for that Hope brings people back they would just be gone, and even though he does it doesn't change that they still both died. Chris had wanted so badly to try to save them, and he'd tried to do so, but...

They had waited too long, or the cure just wasn't feasibly possible at all by the time it had been announced, or something else that they'd decided on or had happened had been the wrong choice and had ultimately led them to fail. But they should've never been in this position in the first place, any of them; wendigos shouldn't exist, they shouldn't exist here, there shouldn't have been human in their food supply, none of this should've happened. Haven't they all been through enough?

Chris isn't entirely sure why he'd gone into the kitchen--possibly to make tea or something--but instead he's just suddenly, irrationally angry at one of the stupid, weird-looking alien chairs. He grabs it by the back of it and attempts to dramatically throw it to the floor, but its center of gravity is lower than expected and so it just kind of tips over sadly, falling to the ground with a small and unsatisfying thunk.

So he kicks it too, for good measure, but that only hurts his foot and the chair seems utterly unaffected. Still, the fit of anger goes as quickly as it had come and he just sits down on the floor, back against one of the table legs, taking a moment to try to get a grip.

They're going to come back. Everyone is going to be okay, at least physically, and they're all going to get past this. They're all going to be okay.

He'd believed that, when he told Ashley something similar just after they'd gotten here, but now he's not so sure he still does.]

[unfollowing]

[Hope seriously needs an interior decorator. And more comfortable furniture. And like, a bar or something, because some booze would really help Emily deal with the weird, not quite hangover feeling she's got.

So this is what it feels like to die and come back to life.

This is shit.

She remembers... some things from before she died. None of which she wants to think about, at least not here. And she's hungry and angry, too, but not in the maddening way from her last few memories from before now. It's just a dull ache in her stomach that she wants filled with Hacienda La Esmeralda coffee and a fresh croissant.

Hope could stand to give them that, too, but Emily supposes it'd pretty be crass to ask for that after he just, you know, revived her.

Well. Guess it's time to head back to the house. That won't be a world of awkward.

It's a long walk back. The "sunlight" looks clear and bright and all that sickening think positive shit, but for all that she's alive and should be positive, she can't. Not when she's aware that she was turning into a monster not too long ago, and that her memories of the whole ordeal get fuzzier the more she tries to think of those days later in course of the change. Did she kill anyone? Did she hurt someone she knows? Surely someone at the house will tell her, provided they're all still alive. And if she did try to hurt them, they probably won't hold back when they tell her. She wouldn't. Hell, she didn't, when she told them off for all the shit that happened on the mountain that night.

God. Maybe it would've been better if she'd left the basement and gotten herself killed.

But the past can't be undone, so she steels herself for the worst her friends (can she still even think of them like that?) can dish out. (Which might not be all that bad, but that doesn't mean it won't hurt.)

No one comes running to the door when she walks in. Emily is almost relieved until she remembers that a quiet house is usually an empty house, and an empty house, in this case, might mean they're dead.

Then she hears a dull thud come from the kitchen. Okay. Someone's home, and in the very room she really wants to visit first.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Best to get this over with as soon as possible so then they can all start to move the fuck on. Another breath in and out, and she heads into the kitchen.

The sight that greets her is equal parts a relief (Chris is not a bad first person to run into), sad (what the hell is he doing on the floor), amusing (what the hell is he doing on the floor), and upsetting (what if she tried to kill him and he now intends to yell at her theh way she yelled at him when she got here).]

I'm going to make coffee. A lot of coffee. Resurrection is not a substitute for caffeine.

[Her tone is considerably less abrasive than normal, the only indication that she is, for once, not here ready to tear into someone right away.]

[thechoiceisyours]

[Chris is too drained emotionally to even be startled when someone enters the kitchen, just mildly surprised--hopefully it's just Ashley or Mike, not a monster or something--and it takes a few seconds to process who it actually is ranting about coffee.]

Em?

[She's back already? Not that he's complaining, but he wasn't sure how long the whole resurrection thing takes or even when Emily had died, which is a really horrifying thing to think about. But she's back and herself and that's what matters.

What does she remember? Anything?

He gets ungracefully back to his feet--thanks, fallen chair, you turned out to be useful after all--and turns to face her, not totally sure what to do; he's pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate a hug, so instead he manages a small but totally genuine smile.]

H-Hey. It's uh... It's really good to see you.

[He's also pretty down for the coffee idea, but that can wait a moment.]

[unfollowing]

Really?

[The word slips out before she can stop it, her disbelief genuine, though her frown gives away how very much she wasn't expecting that kind of a greeting. She recovers quickly, though, shaking her head, scowling as she starts moving again, towards the cupboard where they keep their coffee supplies. Chris is a decent guy, sure, as friendly as they come, but there's no way he'd be smiling at her if she'd eaten one of their friends, spirit-induced to the act or not.]

Guess this means I didn't kill anyone.

[thechoiceisyours]

[He watches as she crosses over to the cabinets, processing her comment for a moment; apparently she remembers enough to know what she had become, but not necessarily details. Okay. That's probably a really good thing.]

As far I know you didn't kill anyone, Em. You didn't even hurt anyone.

[She'd come close but that really isn't important, especially considering what she could've done but didn't.]

Are you um... Are you feeling okay, now?

[Both as far as feeling, well, human, and as far as however the whole resurrection thing works. It's still utterly crazy that that's even a thing.]

[cowardley]

[ The last several days have had an almost nightmarish dream-quality to them. She doesn't feel attached to the world, as if the horror that happened didn't happen to her. She remembers the way not-Emily had moved, the sound of her claws across the floor, and that high shrill shriek, but it's so far removed from herself that it couldn't have possibly been anything but a dream.

Still, Ashley refuses to go upstairs. She does not dare look into her room, door still splintered, and window still shattered. She does not dare look at the door that had been Emily's because the moment threatens to replay behind her eyes. She avoids any topic that dares venture too close to the wendigo, to their friends who she knows are dead.

She keeps herself safe, avoiding topics that make it feel as if her whole body could deflate with fear and overwhelming despair. This is how she copes. It is not safe, and it is not healthy, but it's all she can do to keep herself from tipping over the edge.

When a thud echoes throughout the house, Ashley stills immediately, instinctively. She stays still, muscles tight, for several minutes. When no shriek, or familiar click of nails comes, she breathes, determining that, logically, she is safe. Still, she's careful as she makes her way to the kitchen, bare feet silent against the cool floor.

When she spots Chris, sitting upon the floor, she finds herself filled with relief, and then a sudden worry. She's by his side in just moments, crouching on her toes, hand against his shoulder. ]

What happened? Are you ok?

[thechoiceisyours]

[He looks up at the sound of her voice and the touch, a little zoned out and surprised to see her without having noticed her enter, but offers her a weak smile of greeting automatically.

When he realizes what she asked--or more accurately, realizes that he'd worried her--he's quick to respond.]

I-I'm fine, Ash. Just, you know. Teaching the chair a lesson.

[If that gives the impression he'd tripped over it or something instead of throwing a tantrum, that's fine with him. He shifts a little to sit up more straight, looking back at Ashley again.]

How um... How about you? Are you doing okay?

[Everything's been more than a little stressed and distant for all of them this past week--two weeks?--especially since Emily and Josh had fully finished transforming, and he's been so focused on trying to deal with external threats that it feels like he and Ashley have barely had a chance to talk with everything going on.]

[cowardley]

[ This place was going to slowly break them down. Ashley can see it starting, like cracks in porcelain. It's been one thing after another for them, one nightmare after another, and it's only a matter of time before one of them breaks. ]

You know I'm okay. [ It's all about distance, and she is far from the nightmare, but he seems lost in it. Ashley regrets not paying more attention to him during all of the insanity, regrets not trying more. She should have been a rock for him, but she retreated—she always retreats.

She settles down next to him, knees up to her chest, and rests her chin lightly on top, watching him out of the corner of her eye. ]

Do you want to talk? [ Not about her, either. She tilts her head in the fallen chair's direction. ] You don't normally teach innocent chairs a lesson.

[pighead]

[All things considered, Josh doesn't feel that awful when he wakes up. Physically, anyway. He's had worse hangovers, and while he generally doesn't wake up naked in a weird temple, he also generally doesn't. Well.

Die.

He is aware that's what happened. Most of the last few days before his death are a blur, claws and teeth and moving shapes and hunger. He only tries to make sense of it once, briefly, before he decides he's better off not doing that. He doesn't think he did anything really awful, but he doesn't know, and he doesn't want to know. Physically, Josh is fine, but he still feels sick to his stomach, guilty and unsettled and deeply strange.

He does go home, though. Or whatever counts as home here, though he's never quite been comfortable there. How could he be, after everything he's done and everything they know about him? But there's nowhere else to go, and he doesn't quite know what else to do.

He picks up clothes on the way home, finding some decently-fitting things in the shops, not particularly concerned about accidentally flashing someone in the street. They're just going to have to deal. But he does find clothes, and he goes home, and he pushes the door open to find Chris on the floor.

That's cool. Josh pretty much feels how Chris looks, so. He's not sure what to say.]

Hey, man.

[thechoiceisyours]

[He really should get up. He should stand up, put the chair back at the table where it should be, make some tea or coffee or whatever, and act like an adult.

But it's a lot simpler so just wallow in self-pity for the moment, and he doesn't at first notice Josh entering the room. When he speaks, though, Chris looks up suddenly; he'd known Josh should come back, possibly even today, but seeing him just looking totally normal--physically, anyway--is still a shock.

It's enough of one to prompt him to actually get up, turning toward Josh, a rush of different emotions running through him at once... But this time, more than when he'd run into Josh right after Josh first arrived, one particular emotion is winning out. He's really, really glad to see him.]

Hey.

[His voice is a little pitchy, even for just one word, but he manages a weak smile.]

Welcome back, I guess.

[pighead]

[He's not sure what reaction to expect from Chris. Really, Josh isn't totally what to expect from any of them anymore, but it's the most unsettling with Chris, who he always thought he knew so well. So it's a relief, surprisingly so, when Chris actually looks not too horrified to see him. Maybe even happy.

Josh isn't gonna jump to any conclusions, though. Through his hazy memories, he's pretty sure he might've attacked Chris, and he was definitely kind of a dick to him. That part's not new, at least.

He summons up a smile of his own, though it's not particularly strong, either.]

Thanks. Figured I'd better come crawling back eventually.

[Chris doesn't look too injured, so he can't have done anything too awful. That's good.]

Hey, uh. Sorry I didn't believe you about that wendigo stuff before.

[...for obvious reasons.]

3/1 or 3/2, closed to Ashley

[unfollowing]

[It's a miracle they've made it this long without running into each other in the house, but their luck runs out today when Emily heads into the kitchen for tea. She's craving gyokuro something fierce, but given she's going to have trouble inspiring enough hope in someone to get skin product of some sort, she's probably not going to get anywhere near getting the amount of hope needed for one of the most expensive teas in the world. The tea here isn't bad, it's just ... not great. But it's what they've got, so she'll take it.

Emily had expected Ashley would keep to her room (or maybe someplace with a nicer door and a lot fewer horrific memories), but nope. She's in here too.

Muttering a quiet fuck, Emily rolls her eyes. She's got Chris's admonition in her mind, and as much as she would rather just forget everything happened, Emily decides, for once, to follow his advice. Not because she thinks he's right, mind, but because she still feels a little badly for making a threat that came true in the most awful way. Looks like she's just not lucky when it comes to pranks and fake threats.]

I'm not here to yell at you.

[She heads for the cupboards to grab a mug, fully prepared for Ashley to either freeze as she walks past or to dash away, so she says a little more. At this point, she's not quite sure why she does it, since she still has a lot to be angry with Ashley about. Emily manages to convince herself it's for Chris's sake as the words come out of her mouth. Chris, who didn't try to kill her. Who listens to her without judgment. Who gave him a tiny fragment of absolution that lets her feel like she hasn't fucked everything up after all.]

I'm just here for some of this shitty tea.

[cowardley]

[ Ashley has always hated confrontation. She was the little girl in kindergarten who wouldn't tell if another child took her toys. They would say she had no spine, and should stick up for herself; she never really felt that way. It was easier, better even, to just move on. A toy, a crayon, a book; those were just things, and things were easy to give up.

As she grew up, no spine began to equate to doormat. The nerdy girl can do your English essay, you just push her a little. It grew old quickly, but Ashley has always hated confrontation, and so she would grin and bear it.

That, too, eventually changed. High school made it easier. Different classes (AP) helped the most, giving her chance to circulate in a new social group. She became a little less of a doormat, and a little more open. She was by no means a social butterfly, but she felt like she'd spread her wings a little.

Even that changed, however. A single, stupid prank took a year to evolve into a nightmare.

And that nightmare hasn't ended. Right now, that nightmare is a different breed, more Pretty Little Liars than Urban Gothic, but no less of a horror to a teenager. ]

A-All right. [ Ashley ducks her head in response, moving away from the sink to allow the other teen (more than) adequate room. She wants to disappear into the floor, or melt away, anything to get out of this very sudden, very uncomfortable situation. Emily has always been like a bomb, one that's incapable of being disarmed, and easily set off. ]

There, uh... There should still be hot water in the kettle. [ That's sitting on the back of the stove, right next to a steaming cup of tea. It looks like Ashley was here for the tea, too. Anything to settle her nerves. ]

[unfollowing]

[The untouched teacup doesn't go unnoticed, but Emily chooses not to mention it. Not right now, anyway. For as long as Emily has known her, Ashley has been this way, running away like a frightened little animal at the slightest hint of tumult. On Emily's better days, she feels the impulse to protect Ashley, and lord knows there have been times when leering boys have kept their distance from the younger girl solely because Emily has been glaring poison daggers at them. More often, though, she's frustrated by Ashley, and so she'll leave her to her hiding as quickly as she can. It's part of why they've never been too close, though not the only reason.

Now, although Emily hovers between those two familiar reactions, neither of them seems right. This tension between them both is and isn't her fault, and like in the immediate aftermath of the prank, she's not sure how to deal with it. That in itself only serves to frustrate her further, because Emily has to know what to do. She has to craft a plan and execute it to perfection. In general, other people are either tools to help her reach her goals, or obstacles in her way. She may not know what her goal is right now, but she knows that Ashley is part of it all, though whether she will help or hinder Emily is unclear. Possibly both.

Possibly, Ashley is the goal: rebuilding bridges with her, or just starting to smooth out the mess between them.

First, though, is her cup of tea. Emily doesn't bother doing this more slowly or quickly than normal, doesn't speak to Ashley as she goes about picking a teabag and dropping it in her mug, doesn't glance at her when she reaches for the kettle and pours herself some steaming water. For all intents and purposes, it would seem that Emily is ignoring her.

Until she grabs both her mug and Ashley's and sets them both on the table.]

We have shit to talk about. May as well get it over with.

[There's no room for debate in Emily's tone, though at least she doesn't look murderous. Just cold and guarded, like pretty much always. She'd be impressed if Ashley did protest, but she's certainly not expecting that.]

[cowardley]

[ Emily has always been fierce, a trait that Ashley has admired, and feared, since they first met. The other woman commanded a room when she walked in, and never, ever let anyone walk on her; she was as much of a boss as she was a bitch, and Ashley wanted to be like that.

But that was never in the cards for her. She was the wallflower, the soft-spoken nerd, and she would never be as bold as Emily.

When Emily grabs both mugs, and moves them to the table, Ashley's eyes widen, body tense. It's instinctive for her to want to flee, to get out of the situation as quickly as possible because Emily has claws even when she doesn't, but instead she shuffles to the table, and takes a seat.

She tries to keep her expression neutral, but she's always worn her heart on her sleeve, and she's afraid and bitter. Her lips purse, and she wraps her hands around her mug. ] There's not a lot to talk about, Emily. It wasn't your fault.

[ But her tone is stiff, almost rehearsed. She wants this over with. ]