Chris Hartley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thechoiceisyours) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2016-02-12 06:43 pm
thechoiceisyours) wrote in hadriel_logs2016-02-12 06:43 pm
Entry tags:
I think I’ve been praying the lights won't go out
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!]
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!]
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So how is he supposed to explain to Chris? It had all made perfect sense. Sort of, maybe, it still does, but Josh is pretty sure it won't if he puts it into words. He's pretty sure he'll say it, and it'll sound awful, and he won't be able to take it back or make it understandable.
He looks at Chris, rubs a hand over his face, sighs.]
Pretty sure you're not gonna.
[But fuck it. It's not like Josh has a lot to lose, right? He's lost it all already. His sisters, his friends. Whatever semblance of mental health he once had.]
I don't know, man. I needed someone to pay, I needed to feel like something was happening. After what happened to them, how the hell could I just shrug and let it go? They died because of you guys. And I know that's not really how it was, but -
[But he had to blame someone. The same way the relatives of dying people will sometimes blame doctors, blame anything - because that makes it seem like they have more control over it than they do. If someone is to blame, someone can pay, and then it'll be equal. It's not true and it never works, but there it is.]
I wasn't gonna do anything. Just scare the shit out of everyone so they'd know how it must've felt. How scared they must have been...
[Josh is pretty sure this isn't going to make any sense to Chris. He's trying.]
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So Chris tries too. He's always been good at understanding people, even Josh--or so he'd thought before all of this happened--and maybe, somehow, they can meet somewhere in the middle. Maybe he can pull the meaning out what words Josh can say, and fill in the blanks for the ones he can't.
There's a twisting, cold feeling in his stomach at the blame, but is Josh really wrong? Logically, he knows it wasn't his fault, just like it wasn't Josh's. Wasn't any of the others' either, really; no one had ever meant for something like this to happen. But does that even matter? What happened was what happened, both a year ago and that last night on the mountain before coming here, and there's no changing it.
He doesn't bother to try arguing blame, because that isn't the point. He knows Josh is aware no one meant for this to happen, and knows Josh blames himself. And it makes sense that he might blame Chris by extension, since they'd been in exactly the same state of uselessness.
It's so unfair. They hadn't been doing anything wrong; they were even legally old enough to drink in Canada, and had that not been true a couple of teenagers getting drunk is hardly a crime that warrants the death of two people. But that's not how the world works.
Still, he wishes they hadn't done it. That they'd decided to play video games, or go bother their friends, or even just not been idiots and only had one or two drinks instead of so many they lost count. But even if they had...]
If we hadn't been drunk... If we'd gone after them, man, we'd just all have...
[They would all have disappeared that night. If they hadn't been drunk, Josh would've doubtlessly followed his sisters out into the snow and Chris would've followed him; all four of them would've been attacked by a wendigo, or they would've fallen, or any number of other ways to meet one's end on that horrible mountain.
Or maybe they wouldn't have. Maybe four of them would've stood a better chance. Maybe the twins would've survived. Maybe they all would have. He doesn't truly know, but believing there was nothing they could've done is so much easier than wondering about the what-ifs. There are already so many haunting him from what happened on the anniversary; what if one of the traps had malfunctioned and killed Ashley, what if he hadn't left Josh in the shed with Mike, what if he'd shot the wendigo before it attacked the stranger, what if he'd gone with Mike back to the mines, what if...
There are always possibilities of what could've been, but all that matters is what did happen.
He takes a deep breath, not sure whether to respond to Josh's intentions in regards to what he did; part of him wants to be angry and flippant, the other part wants to be painfully honest. To tell Josh exactly how much he'd scared them--how thinking about any of those moments is just as terrifying now four months later as it was that night. How something that wasn't even real left an impact as strong as seeing a monster take off someone's head five feet away from him.
But he doesn't want to talk about it. And on some level he doesn't want Josh to even know, ever, both because he shouldn't get the satisfaction of the whole thing and because he shouldn't get the guilt, either. Chris just wants this to be over, to try to move on, even if he doesn't know how.
Josh's words make him wonder, though. Was that really how the twins felt? He hopes not, but... Probably. Probably worse, for Hannah, after what happened to her, what he'd learned from Sam and Mike...
He had just decided a minute earlier not to tell Josh about the twins, but in a moment he changes his mind. Maybe this is the way to move on, after all. At least, possibly for Josh; as horrific a story as it is, maybe it can be closure.]
I know what happened to them, Josh. Hannah and Beth.
[It's quiet, tone soft; despite the lack of power behind his voice, the words are certain.]
I'm not sure if it'll help, or just like... Make things worse, but it's... If you want to know, I can tell you what happened.
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Doesn't matter. I should've gone after them.
[Because he should have. He should have done everything possible to find his sisters, to get them home safely, to make sure they were okay. And he couldn't, because he'd gotten too fucking drunk, because he was stupid and selfish and irresponsible. And yeah, it wasn't the first time he'd drunk until he passed out, and there was no way for him to know what would happen - but that doesn't change anything.
They're his sisters. Josh should have been out there looking for them, even if that meant something happened to all of them. He'd be lying if he hadn't spent a good portion of the past year thinking it would be better if something had happened, if he'd disappeared with them, because the alternative is living with the pain and guilt of knowing he hadn't done anything to help them, to stop all of it.
He can't change the past, but he'd needed to exact some kind of payment for it, and there was no real way to make himself hurt more than he already did. But everyone else - they should be just as miserable and terrified as Hannah and Beth were.
Part of Josh still thinks this is true. The rest of him, more pragmatic, knows that it's already happened, whether at his hands or the hands of wendigos - or the hands of the gods here.
He looks at Chris then, suddenly sharp.]
Tell me. You have to tell me, I need to know.
[Maybe it will make things worse. Josh doesn't care at this point. Living with the uncertainty is too much, too difficult and unfair and painful. He needs to know, to know how his sisters died.
He wants to believe that there's a chance they could be alive. He wants that so much, and in his more disconnected moments, he does. He believes it. But Josh knows that's not true, he knows they died on that mountain, but he doesn't know how. Chris does, somehow, and Josh needs him to share it.
He reins his tone in, and asks, quietly:]
Please.
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Yeah. We both should have.
[Whatever blame Josh has in what happened last year, Chris shares. Whether that's none or of all of it, it doesn't even matter; the point is acknowledging it. They don't disagree on this, and suddenly that starts to put some pieces together.
Josh's desire to know about the twins is no surprise either, though Chris realizes he probably should've thought about how to word the answer before he offered it. But is there any way to tell this story--this awful, screwed up story and that he only knows secondhand--that would somehow be better than any other way?
So he takes a deep breath, and nods.]
I... Sam and Mike put it together. With some things they learned, and stuff Emily learned, and it's just...
[Neither Beth or Hannah deserved any of this. His gaze shifts back to the floor, because he can't look at Josh as he explains; it's selfish, but watching his expressions would just be too difficult.]
They um... They fell. Off one of the cliffs. We don't know why but like... With the wendigos, it was probably...
[Probably a fair guess as to the reason.]
Beth... S-She didn't make it. But Hannah was... Hannah lived for like a month.
[It's nauseating to think about, especially now that he's in less shock than he had been when Emily told them the first time. They'd searched for the twins for weeks, and all that time Hannah had still be possible to save, and they'd all just... Failed again.
He swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions under control and not think too much about the words he's saying. They must be horrific for Josh to hear, but at least he'll know now.]
The... A wendigo spirit possessed her. She was... She was the wendigo we ran into most, a-and--
[Will the end of the story give a sense of closure, or just make it all even worse?]
She's um... She's with Beth now.
[Wherever that is. He had never believed in the afterlife before all of this, but now... He still doesn't know, but whatever there is or isn't, he hopes the twins found some sort of peace.]
I'm... Really sorry, Josh.
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Josh had wanted to believe they'd lived, somehow. Even long past the time it was really possible, even when logically he knew there was no way, he'd wanted to believe that somehow they'd managed to survive, to beat the odds and find a way. But not like this. He doesn't want to think of Beth dead, and Hannah alone, hungry, driven to things she would have found so horrible, so mind-breakingly awful.
She's dead now, she's at peace, and that should be comforting. Maybe it will be, later. But right now there's nothing even remotely comforting about this horror.
Josh feels cold, his thoughts whirring, seizing on what must have happened to Hannah, what she went through. He doesn't want to imagine it, but he can't stop. And if he'd done anything - if he'd been able to help them somehow - it could have been different, they could have been saved. Or at least maybe he could have done something. Anything.
He stands, suddenly, and just as suddenly kicks the chair he was sitting in, knocking it over. He'd do more if he could. He wants to scream, he wants to lash out, but after the initial sharp surge of anger, it all feels pointless.]
Fuck!
[There's nothing Josh can do. And the worst thing is, Hannah survived for a little while. If they'd found her, if they'd tried harder, they could have saved her. But they didn't, and everything got worse. He's never gonna get his sisters back, and now he knows that Hannah went through something even worse than he thought possible.
At least Beth went quick, he thinks, and then feels awful for it.
He wanted to know, he asked for this. He should be grateful, maybe, that Chris was willing to be honest with him. He doesn't feel grateful at all, just angry and sad and empty. He grieved for them already, with his family, but it's not the same as hearing this. As knowing.]
I should've gone after them. I should have fucking known, and stopped it.
[He's useless. He's always been more of a burden to his family than anything else, and he couldn't even help his sisters when they needed him the most. He couldn't do anything.
Josh covers his eyes with a hand, because he can't stop thinking about Hannah alone, because he thinks he's going to cry.]
Hannah... we could have found her...
[His voice is tight with emotion, pain and sorrow.]
Neither of them fucking deserved that. They had to go through that because of some stupid fucking prank, and you wonder why I'd do what I did? I should've done worse.
[Josh doesn't mean that, not really. He'll know that later. But right now - right now he can't express how awful this is, how much he wishes it weren't true. But it's not anger in his voice when he says it, it's the quiver of someone about to fall apart, someone trying with everything they have to keep from crying.]
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He's quiet while Josh processes everything, torn between doing nothing and trying to figure out some way to help, but there's really nothing he can do in this situation. There's no way to make any of this better, other than that Josh won't have to wonder what happened anymore. Even if the truth of it is horrific, it's better than always wondering.
Isn't it? He really hopes so.
Josh's last comment hurts, which translates into a flash of anger, but it isn't enough for Chris to find worth reacting to even if Josh had said it out of anger himself. But he hadn't, and that's obvious, and again Chris wishes he knew something to do to make this situation less painful. Josh has dealt with enough.
He's about to try to figure out something to say, but the coffeemaker beeps behind him and he's never been so thankful for a pot of coffee to be done. It gives him an excuse to turn away--and gives Josh a moment to himself at the same time--while he finds mugs and sugar, motions automatic while his thoughts are far away.]
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He's going to cry, probably. He'd rather do that alone. He needs time to process this, to think about it and accept the knowledge that they could have done something, that Hannah had a worse fate than he could have imagined before now. It's bitterly unfair, knowing what happened to his sisters and how little they deserved any of it. They should be alive, they should have had more time. How is he the one who survived, after everything?
Josh takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. There's nothing he can do now. There's nothing anyone can do. That's comforting, a little, but not much. All it means is that it's over and done with and he'll never see his sisters again. He couldn't save them, he couldn't stop anything.
His anger is pointless and painful, and soon enough it's consumed by a hollowness, an empty ache somewhere inside him. After a year, his grief hadn't dulled much, and now it only flares back into life again, and there's nothing he can do. Not one single thing.
He breathes in again, harsh and sudden, breath catching with the weight of his misery. He can't thank Chris for telling him, even though Josh was the one who asked him to. It's better to know, he'll feel that way eventually, but right now it's all too raw.]
Was it you guys? Who... ended it... for Hannah?
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[He isn't sure if it's the right answer or not, but it ultimately doesn't matter; it's true. Mike had come up with the plan and Sam had flipped the switch, but the rest of them had known what was going on as they'd taken the opportunities they'd had to get out of the lodge. They hadn't had any other choice, and that creature hadn't really been Hannah anymore anyway. Wasn't it better for her this way?
He hopes so. He really hopes so.]
She was um... The one we saw the most.
[She had been the one that attacked him and killed the stranger, and the one Mike said he encountered in the mines. And, of course, she had been in the lodge.]
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Josh looks down, and nods. He's barely holding himself together.]
I gotta - I gotta go.
[He needs to lock himself in his room and cry and maybe break something, and try to figure this all out. Try to make it make sense somehow. There's nothing Chris can do, nothing any of them can do to make this easier for Josh. He knows, now, and he's got to deal with it.]
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[He understands, as much as he can at least. Of course Josh will want time alone to deal with this.]
Yeah, sure.
[This conversation had gone so far off from where he'd meant for it to, but they both know more now, at least. Maybe it can help each of them move forward in different ways.]
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