Alexis sits on the lip of the black-stone well (might have been, once; that's a real poetic way to look at it, ain't it?) in a hoodie so dirtied and stained they don’t remember the original color, sleeves falling over their hands, and when they hear it singing to them they don’t leave until the sky goes black as night. (They wake up with their nose squished into the carpet so hard it feels like it'll be stuck at an angle. They've almost bitten through their lip again.)
The next time they sleep, there’s a man; tall, tanned, with a smile that could reach out forever if not for the scars on his face to act as boundaries. He smiles at them - grins, smirks, more like - they ignore him and sit on the lip of the well and listen. He doesn’t say his name - doesn’t have to. (Alexis is tired of him invading their dreams.) They sit until the wind goes silent in the grass and they leave before he does.
It’s been over two months, and in their dreams there’s a steady bruise growing around their left eye; blackish-blue. Alexis can’t help but feel like they’re forgetting something. (There's a fire in the well. Oilslick and oildark.) Their eye starts to fade in and out of focus more than it ever does, in reality; of course, they only know when they wake up. They put an eyepatch on. The eyepatch is the color of murky water, and there’s dark lines like burst blood vessels in that singular eyelid.
They remember bringing a friend (is friend the right word? perhaps lover is more apt, maybe); tall as can be, slender and sun-kissed with hair the color of spun gold - but when the wind starts blowing and fingers go numb, she/he/they cries/cry out and runs - they try to call out come back, come back to me, I didn't mean to do this to you - but their mouth is full of salt water and when they try to speak shards of obsidian fall from their lips. (This isn't how it happened. It's prettier. Or maybe it's not -- they don't know. They miss their partner. But it was so long ago.) Alexis doesn’t see their partner again. Alexis knows it’s no matter; this isn’t the only time. Dreams repeat.
Alexis feels like they’re forgetting something.
(Oilslick and iridescing. Undulating. Waves of heat, coming from the brick.)
Alexis skips school and sits next to the well. (This never happened. There was never a well. It's a retelling of a junkyard and their own life, but it sounds prettier this way). Five months - no, no - a week, maybe. Or a day. Who can say? They bring a sleeping bag because nobody's going to go looking, because nobody's going to spend the time.
Alexis sits on the well and sings, and their eye still hurts; if they look at it in the mirror after they wake up, the pupil seems like it's misshapen and the sclera could be darkening every day if they didn't know better. Sometimes they wake up to their own hands on their throat, and sometimes they wake up with their lips torn to ribbons and their own blood in their mouth.
That's life. It's okay.
(Alexis feels like they're forgetting something.)
[wc: 558 words]
Posted: Fri May 20, 2016 10:03 am
now the blow's been softened (since the ocean is our coffin)
Their eyes flutter open -- it’s always clear sight, in the dream, and that’s how they know it’s not reality. Even just the weight of it reminds them of what they’ve lost. They don't see this definitively anymore - - not in any sort of truth. Alexis takes in the situation.
They can’t breathe - or they don’t need to. There’s not much of a difference. They’re floating, in deep green water, crystal-clear despite the color and the scent of salt permeating their entire being. In fact - it doesn’t smell so much like sea-salt. (it smells like blood) There’s a hint of something, woven through the water, and Alexis comes to realize they’re upside-down; hair fanning out like a reverse halo. (IT SMELLS LIKE BLOOD) They grit their hands into fists and - before anything, before they even try to look upwards(?) to see - they can feel the knifepoints going through their palms, replacing the feel of nails cutting crescents into skin.
The scent is more palpable, now. They can’t move. (there are silk-shining wisps of red moving through the water every time their hands shudder and shake out of the semblance of accuracy -- it’s not pain it’s just. feeling and knowing) -- Without looking, they know the blades are to the hilt.
Alexis has a lot of lucid dreams. The issue is, of course, that they can't much control them. After all...they won't even remember this when they wake up. (They never do. They just wake up with their arms covered with raised pink lines, from the rake of nails, and a knot in their throat that goes away eventually.)
A thread of hair (is it hair? for a second, it’s glass-sharp and jagged, or a thin tooth even) floats over their face, and cuts skin and muscle down to bone; now the whole ocean is turning red, red and dark, and their face is split open without any pain but with every sensation (and there’s teeth crunching through bone and toothy maws tearing off flesh), and their throat is ripped open and Alexis can’t breathe they can’t breathe they can’t breathe -
The world dissolves into raindrops and red brick, and Alexis is standing unharmed in a rained-on alleyway, with a bright sword painted on-slash-into the wall like it's always been there. Again. They keep ending up here when their dreams kill them, and they're honestly getting real sick and tired of Other Ashdown taking over their dreams. Is it preferable? Maybe? It's considerably less murderous, but it is slightly more rainy, and they're not wearing any shoes because of COURSE they're not, who wears shoes to sleep, who dreams about wearing shoes --
but there's never any immediate death threats when they dream about this place, unlike the few times they've been here in actuality. That's probably a leg up on their usual dreams.
(Alexis wanders for hours, and only wakes up with slight scrapes on their hands and the feeling that they should be covered in raindrops.)
you now have the honor of completing the hunter's dilemma challenge. to complete this most excellent quest and unlock the powers that lie within, you must complete these requirements. a solo (500 words) where alexis finds themselves in other ashdown unexpectedly (and just as unexpectedly finds themselves out) a RP where alexis reaches out to another visitor about other ashdown a RP where alexis and another visitor explore other ashdown and find themselves stalked; they are herded, hunted until they find a way out (please tag in ashdown whaler) a solo (500 words) of alexis reflecting back on other ashdown, what might have stalked them, and that this is now something part of their life. a RP where alexis and another visitor go back to other ashdown again, only to find themselves stalked once more a RP with another visitor with alexis talking about other ashdown and what has happened with them, as well as realizing their new found power. (this may be a solo but word req is 1250 words.)
in exchange, your character will receive this power: tracker’s eye with focus, and knowledge of what is wanted to be tracked, alexis can see the spectral trail of where an animal/person has been/where it went. this must be within the last few hours and will not work if alexis does not have some kind of item to help clue them in. this ability only works with alexis’s left eye and may not always work if other forces are in play.
have fun, and let us know when you've completed your requirements!
Posted: Tue May 31, 2016 12:42 pm
and you, you fake the wanderlust until it's real
Alexis supposes it was inevitable, really. Powers -- all of that crap -- besides from the two unfortunate (involuntary) forays into ********: the City -- they've heard none of it. They've seen none of it. They stayed away from Blackfriars, they stay away from people in general (because ew, people), but it was probably nonsense to think any of this would ever properly leave them alone.
Alexis has always been a magnet for trouble.
So when they step out the front door of the building and are absolutely drenched in the suddenly-pouring rain, and the door locks behind them, they suppose they really should have seen this coming. (But they didn't, and isn't that just great? Just dandy? Was it too much to ask to try and live without getting pulled into fantastic things? Apparently, yes! Apparently it's infinitely too much to ask.) Alexis kicks a can and watches it go flying, only pulling back their foot after it lands and clanks away.
Well.
This is going to be a problem.
----
The rain is terrible. And, coming from Alexis, that - well. That's a lie. (They like the rain. They like it a lot, and because nobody's around, they splash through puddles in their bare feet for a few minutes before realizing that's really not an appropriate thing to do in ********. There's better things to do. Like escaping back to the real world.
Who would miss them, though? Do they really need to go back?
Rewind - back up - backspace. That's a bad thought to have. And they'd been getting so good about having those, it's just -- it's not important. It's under control. Everything's under control. Just like their eating habits, and their sight, and all the other million things they can no longer control.)
Alexis keeps walking. They keep walking for hours, and they lose track of time because Alexis was going out to get a breath of fresh air and didn't take things like -- a watch, or a blade, or any of those particulars -- they keep walking, barefoot, sneakers tied together by the laces and thrown over their shoulder, and listen. It's not so bad, here. But they want out anyways, because they didn't decide on this -- and that's almost as bad as being forced.
They keep walking, and don't think about how intelligent it actually would be to put their shoes back on, because no. Nobody's here. They don't have to. Nobody can make them. Nobody's followed them here, nobody is going to tell them anything - if the entire facsimile of a city wasn't so gloomy, perhaps it'd make for better relaxation. They move through an overhang -- and suddenly -- suddenly the world is back like it never left, and Alexis doesn't know what to do, so they just...sit, in their bare feet and sodden jeans-, looking back and forth furtively like everything will make a little more sense if they do.
They are so very, very ********. There's no way in hell they can figure this s**t out on their own, is there?
I can't run away from this, Alexis realizes, sick to their stomach, huddled up in a corner until their legs regain more feeling than what is -- at the minute -- lightning branching up their limbs every time they move, no real pain in it, but more than enough agony. I can't run away unless I leave here. And I can't do that. A woman passing by gives them a strange look, and Alexis belatedly realizes they're mouthing their thoughts with a voice that barely registers on the audible, throat so rough any mumble comes out as more of - persay - a gurgle. A roar. Something inhuman. They're not. They're not, they're not -- they're human. Just like everyone. (Well, mostly everyone.) Just because something wants to hunt them down like a knife in their neck -- like prey animals, like a mouse on the run -- it
it doesn't mean they're a bad person, right? Or less of a person, to be precise. They're already a bad person. But they're not subhuman. They're not. They're not. They can't run away from this. ********, they shouldn't have run away from their family - they can't remember the argument, but it couldn't have been as bad as they want to say it was; not bad enough to grab all their money, a duffel bag of clothes, and get on the next train out of town. They're a frightened child --
Refocus. Alexis is not a child. They're not. They're a legal adult, who is legally capable of making their own decisions. They live in their own, they do volunteer work, they do odd jobs, and they supplement their income from everyone else's wallet. There's nothing necessarily wrong with any of that. And Alexis isn't scared. (They're so, so scared.)
...
This otherworld, this Other Ashdown -- imagined breath hot on their neck, sticky, heavy -- the fear -- despite what they want to say, it was all so very, very real. They know it was real. It's not escapable. They are not prey, and they sure as hell won't act like it. They will take the situation, and take control of it, and skin this beast and wear its' skull as their crown of thorns. Humans are only animals. Everything is only animals, at the basest level. And Alexis will run through the rain if they have to, knife-of-thoughts in their hand (because damn if they'll take a knife into Winters' demesne, again, after the creeping ice freezing them in place, but -- magic -- they can do it, they can!) and spackle blood all over their own freckles and through their curls.
Alexis will not bow. They will not bend their knee, next time. They will turn to face it and rip its' damn throat out with their bare hands, because they are a creature of free will, and destiny has no goddamn bearing on what Alexis Tucker can/will/will not/can't do. Other Ashdown will send hunters at them, monsters? Let them come. Alexis won't run again.
It's a nice thought. It's an unrealistic thought, but it's a nice one. (Their nails are digging grooves into their face, raised lines in patterns all through their forehead and cheeks, jagged but nowhere near anything but irritation.)
Alexis had thought it was a joke, at first. Who would invite them to a ball? Scruffy, dirty Alexis, with leaves in their hair and dirt under the nails -- who would ever invite them? They're clean but they're no one's ideal of a belle, especially this kid (man? boy? it doesn't matter, everyone's a kid in the most derogatory sense when it's Alexis) who's in their apartment; petite and hidden in soft gold. But he disappears, and that's Alexis' moment of '******** it, I have nothing better to do'. "What's --" he's gone already, so they can't ask! But what's the key for? "...the key for," comes a finisher a little too late. ********' god damn spooky Other Ashdown magic bullshit.
(Alexis kicks the door and then swears because they hurt their toe. It is not a redeeming moment.)
They don't worry about the danger, or any of that; they don't worry about silly things with magic world crazy otherworld stuff -- there's more pressing concerns. Like, for example, their outfit! Whiiich they are going to have to steal. Alexis doesn't own anything nearly that nice! They've gotten a little rusty with their lifting (okay, that's a lie, they'd tell Mercer that if he asked but it's a hundred percent not true) - but - nice dress. Masquerade mask. They already own tights, sneakers, undershirts for wearing under absolutely anything because nobody makes anything worth wearing with sleeves that cover the entire arm?
It's not that Alexis doesn't want to go - they do want to go - and it's -- it's hard to explain. They want to go and have a nice time in a semi-anonymous fashion. But -- anyways...skip forward, rewind - they steal the dress, the mask; the shoes are legit, but they're Ebay-legit, the sort of legit that means they're absolutely not legit at all and they're a sort of tradeaway barter legitimate. The clothes have to be kept nice, because they're fancy quality. The handwriting makes no sense, inasmuch as Alexis understands any of it. Red moon? The Sorrowful One? Well, far as they can figure that second one, it probably has something to do with - the Peaceful One (in airquotes, presumably). Pax. Maybe it's a different title? A different 'person' (again, airquotes, because that is inasmuch as deer-things count as people. People don't have forty legs and twelve eyes. ...or however many the Peaceful One had -- they haven't exactly gone back and requested its' presence to check.) or maybe something like that. Maybe it's Heliodora Winters' title. Maybe it's one of her friends. The news coverage...maybe it's died down? It probably has. Alexis doesn't have a TV, so they can't check. They like to keep a low profile, and anything they care about they can ask other people for anyways, and there's always the laptop --
The night is soon. Alexis puts on their mask on and off, rhythmically, like it's a second face and focuses on the feel of the metal against their skin. They'll let their hair down and they'll breathe and they'll breathe. The rain will be nice.
you now have the honor of completing the dark waters challenge. to complete this most excellent quest and unlock the powers that lie within, you must complete these requirements. a solo (750 words) or RP of Alexis dealing with the changes brought upon the world and their magic a thread wherein Alexis’s powers backfire and otherwise impede/hinder their interactions with others. a solo (750) of Alexis spiraling deeper into their problems and running off to other ashdown a thread with Alexis discovering a mysterious lake within other ashdown (tag in whaler!) a thread of Alexis learning fine control of their powers and abilities while helping a Visitor
in exchange, your character will unlock the following power:
DARK DIVER - Alexis has developed a fully functional set of gills that interfaces with their respiratory system, rendering them capable of 'breathing' underwater given that the water is not contaminated. When closed, these appear as - at first glance - lines of symmetrical bruises on their neck and sides. This has also negatively affected their normal respiratory system, decreasing their lung capacity.
have fun, and let us know when you've completed your requirements!
in exchange, your character will unlock the following power:
DARK DIVER - Alexis has developed a fully functional set of gills that interfaces with their respiratory system, rendering them capable of 'breathing' underwater given that the water is not contaminated. When closed, these appear as - at first glance - lines of symmetrical bruises on their neck and sides. This has also negatively affected their normal respiratory system, decreasing their lung capacity.
have fun, and let us know when you've completed your requirements!
we've heard you were a victim (stop crouching in the shadows, chewing your hair)
Their breath comes harsh in their lungs, and their legs are on fire, and their hands are scraped from a fall or two or three - but they keep running, they keep running, because this is the only option. All they can do is hurt people. Alois couldn't fix that - he only honed it, made them better at it, made them into the weapon they always were - they want to vomit, but nothing comes up but bile, because they haven't eaten - because they don't deserve to eat, when it hurts, because it's their fault - they don't need to eat, they're not hungry, they're not -
All the buildings look the same - rain-smeared, tear-smeared; their face is burning and their eyes are half-closed. It doesn't matter. Alexis doesn't matter. They're nothing but dangerous to other people and -- they promised, they promised, they won't hurt themself again -- but it would be so easy, so infinitely easy, to lower their mouth to their fingers, their arms, and bite down. But they'd still be able to hurt people. That's not the point, though, the point is that they'd hurt enough that other people would hurt less -- they wouldn't -- Alexis stops and pants for breath.
Their hair's come undone. The water keeps trying to wind around their ankles, like a pet who's missed them ever so much and they don't want it they don't want it. "I want -" the words won't come to fruition. "I want, I want -" They don't know what they want. They want to hurt, maybe. They want to hurt so bad they'll never be able to hurt anyone else again. Zac - the look on Rill's face when she told them, gloating - hell, the look on Rill's face as she cradled her mutilated hand, desperately crying for help, and they pinned her down and they bit down (she could have lived, she was horrible but all she wanted to do was live, they could have let her go with a lesson and she could have lived) - Autumn, at five in the morning in her negligee, their bloody hand cradled in hers. Autumn, at the ball, their wrist frozen and the skin flaking away, numb and terrible and cold - they wanted to help. They just wanted to help. They could never help, because they weren't born for it. "I want -"
Alexis leans over with a hand on the wall, retches, and all that comes out is water; traitorously clear, traitorously clean, like -- like -- they don't know. They don't know anything.
Their phone is still alive - a wonder, through the torrent and the deluge. When they sit, when they can stop thinking, when someone tells them what to do (good girl, good girl, their mother's hands on them - they thought they'd forgotten, but Chelsea Craft on the ground bleeding, Shiloh dragged by his ankle, Kuroda held helpless in the air, the feeling like there was something great and terrible and all they could do is hide - and the thought of Nasir's glasses shattered in the ocean, frames bent; Zac's braid, torn from his head, Autumn's horns chipped and shattered like some terrible trophy - Veronica's body drifting away, motionless. She had been so good to them - so terribly good, when they'd done nothing to deserve it. The ocean below them, around them, great and hungry and terrible and so kind...)
Sure. So they can't die - they can't hurt themself like that. They promised. They promised. But if something else finds them -- and it's retribution for what they've done, retribution for the fact they've never helped the otherworld - for enabling the pain of the cycle, for their violence, for the fact all they could think upon seeing a girl with their face was how much they wanted to t e a r h e r a p a r t - there's nothing wrong if something like that finds them. It'll be okay. They'll leave their jacket and their phone aside (the jacket's Zac's, they won't lose something of his, it's worth more than anything by value of being his), so someone will know, and they'll stay here until someone comes to take them away. Home - half-home, with Nasir and Wil, or with Zac and his distrusting roommate (they can't blame her, they're nothing but a criminal, it's all they are and all they're ever going to be) - Autumn is gone. Alois is gone. The good and the bad, they're both gone, and people are too kind to Alexis.
"Please, please, I want -" again, it's only water, their hair thrown back by an unseen breeze. Their shoes are soaked through, their pants sticking to their legs - "help me," Alexis gasps out finally, and staggers along because they no longer have the strength left to run. They're so tired.
They're so tired. They just want it to stop. The whole world can keep on moving around them, but they - Alexis, only, only them, everything else is better without them - they want to stop.
[wc: 814 words. title from okay, ophelia by jeannine hall gailey]
