INBOX

[foolmetwice]

[ text | voice | video | action ]

[HIT HIM UP WITH SOME MESSAGES SHOULD YOU CHOOSE]

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[foolmetwice]

[consider ur choices, Crown. consider them carefully]

[on the bright side, nothing leaps out at him as the carefully steps down the hallway. the trail of blood continues, but before Crown reaches the end, he'll find himself stepping on something soft. something squishy. something like. . . a hand. . .]

[attached to a corpse]

[lefthandpath]

[....... a-ah. draws foot back and. retreats only a couple of steps.]

This is... from that house... huh...

[he really hopes that's the case or Mars is more fucked up than he thought.

how to make this better--should he?

well, he's going to kneel down to see if he can't at least... put the body in a better positioning. more peaceful.]

That game's over now, you know.

[foolmetwice]

[the lights above suddenly flicker out, plunging the entire hallway into darkness. but they turn back on after only a few seconds, almost like they're protesting the phrase "the game's over now"]

[North does look a bit more peaceful, now that she's been rearranged, but the bloodstain that coats the front of her shirt is very telling. and beyond her Crown will be able to see a few more scattered bodies]

[y i k e s]

[lefthandpath]

[... ah, how unfortunate...

suddenly, appreciating the fact that he got killed off so quick those times a lot more.

looking up at the lights, though, frowning.]

It is over.

[guess he's gonna continue down the hall fixing up corpses.]

In any case, shouldn't you have already talked to these people? That means they're alive, right?

[c'mon, you idiot, get your shit together.]

[foolmetwice]

[the lights turn off again. this time, they don’t turn back on]

[there's a doorway at the end of the hallway from which a small blue glow flickers. other than that? the hallway is only blood and bodies]

[lefthandpath]

[Mars, you're so melodramatic???

but fine. he's heading over to the blue glow.]

Couldn't you have a more pleasant dream? Thinking kindly of those people?

[foolmetwice]

[THIS IS A DREAM LEAVE HIM ALONE!!]

[the door leads to a rather large interrogation room, complete with interrogation table and chairs. it probably comes as no surprise that Mars is seated at the table, back facing the door, puffing away on one of his cigarettes. the blue glow comes from an old-fashioned television, which is playing footage from the House]

[but what is probably most stark about the scene is. . .]

[Mars wrists and ankles are chained to the interrogation room table, the metal links rattling as he moves to life his cigarette to his mouth]

You say that like I actively choose what to dream about.

[not turning around to face Crown, but. finally responding verbally to what he's saying]

[lefthandpath]

[hmmm... not as carefree as he acts, huh...]

Fortunate for you, then. I'm here to assist.

[starting with turning that TV off]

[foolmetwice]

[. . . frowns!! deeply!! the room is plunged into darkness, but the butt of Mars's cigarette can still be seen in the blackness]

What the hell are you even doing here? You realize I'm gonna kick your ass when I wake up.

[lefthandpath]

[time to find a light switch.]

I think we've already established I can handle myself fine.

Also, if you're aware this is a dream now, what's even the point of pretending you have a cigarette?

[foolmetwice]

It's calming.

[TAKES IN A LARGE DRAG, almost defiant. as if he is saying SO THERE!1]

[there don't seem to be any light switches in the room, though Mars does watch Crown as he checks. and a few moments later, he turns the TV back on, chains scraping against the ground]

A coping mechanism.

[lefthandpath]

Now you're just being a brat.

[turning the TV off again.

fine. we can sit in darkness.]

[foolmetwice]

[. . .]

[TURNS THE TV ON AGAIN]

Another coping mechanism.

Stop trying to help. I don't need it.

[lefthandpath]

Oh, right. I'll just leave you to wallow in stupid misery over something that's already over and done with, then, shall I?

[time to tip the TV over like the most surly feline.]

[foolmetwice]

Don't—!

[but it's too late. Mars's movements are too restricted by his chains to stop the inevitable, and the TV goes crashing to the ground, the screen shattering in an impressive display of sparks]

Fuck!

[Mars hisses]

I'm not wallowing! I'm preparing for next time!

[lefthandpath]

[points a finger at Mars, his street accent coming out more in irritation]

Demented. S'what that is. Y'know how you prepare for the next time? You get over it.

[foolmetwice]

Oh, like you fucking know everything!

[raising his own voice a bit, putting his cigarette out on the table]

The way to prepare for next time is to desensitize yourself to it as much as possible so you can get over it.

[lefthandpath]

Lemme get this straight... you want. The deaths of people you care about to be less important?

[do you hear it? the fuckery behind your planning here?]

[foolmetwice]

[LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!]

Coping mechanism.

[he hisses, before he nudged at the broken television with one foot. he's sulking now]

They're all going to die again one day. I can't stop that.

So I can at least make sure it doesn't hurt.

[lefthandpath]

I thought the point of having friends is that it hurts when they're gone.

[like. that's why people put up with friendship, right????]

I don't hold much stock in it, but if you already went through with it, didn't you already make that choice of getting hurt? Regretting it now's just stupid.

[foolmetwice]

[JABS A FINGER AT CROWN]

I didn't ask to feel this way. I even tried to cut it off at the knees when I first got here.

Some people are just— persistent and stupid and dumb.

[lefthandpath]

Haven't met anyone like that yet.

[unimpressed]

[foolmetwice]

[rolls his eyes]

Good for you.

[bends down to set the broken TV upright as he starts to collect the shattered pieces of the screen]

[lefthandpath]

[what shattered pieces? the screen's whole now.

because all ur dream r belong to BARiTONES.]

Here I thought I'd find something more interesting. Instead it's just some loser dwelling over loss.

How boring.

[foolmetwice]

[. . .]








[stands up and immediately attempts to punch Crown IN THE FACE]