entrancelogs | [OPEN] and you may ask yourself

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[OPEN] and you may ask yourself

Who: Evelyn O'Connell & YOU!
Where: The library, halls, kitchen, parlors, outside grounds - any public space.
When: Night/Early morning of January 7
Rating: PG, PG-13 at most
Summary: Evelyn has always had the occasional nightmares, mild hallucinations, and sleepwalking problems ever since she came to the conclusion she was a reincarnated princess, but there's something to be said for locking your door when prone to somnambulism.

The Story:

She never used to dream as much as she does now, vivid and sharp. On more than one occasion before Rick's arrival Evelyn has found herself on her balcony, in the foyer of her rooms, with no memory of how she got there.

Before her death they had been wildly distracting, a reprieve from the night terrors of old but no less concerning: another person in another time, memories seeping into her mind like dark, insidious floodwaters, emotions that did not belong to her. The wrenching pain, happiness, fear of someone else.

They had rationalized it as a past life, as if the explanation itself were a rational one.

With the smoke of torches in her eyes, lotus and honey thick on her tongue, in her hair, she slips from a bed of linen and carved wood - Hathor's image, wide and loving and lush. Lamps burning oil perfumed with blossoms from the Nile's bank, hold steady light in a chamber of swirling heat. In the far distance the sem'ayt play drums and cymbals, ney-pipes accompanying a carnal beat.

Bare feet brushing carpet and chilled wood, dressed in precious little else but a nightgown and absent the source of warmth still under the sheets, Evelyn sways in place for a moment in the bedroom, seeing and not seeing in the wake of so much loss. A new year and new hurt to compartmentalise, to measure, and she feels the pull of the music that isn't there. Her fingertips trail over a sideboard; she leaves the room.

A decoration of scented fat seeps slowly through her wig, melting into the fibers and dripping down her back, following the curve of her spine. She has become less circumspect of late, alone in the wide expanse of halls. A power in her own right as designated by the gods, by Pharaoh-and-Egypt, her father dotes but knows the will of his sloe-eyed daughter, his favored child.

The pipes are louder now, as she moves to the great hall and nods to the attendants to reach for the handles of the entrance, intricate cobras to mimic the form of Wadjet.

With her chin held high, visualising nothing but alabaster and flame, Evelyn turns the knob and pushes the door

Open.

[NOTE: Feel free to literally encounter her anywhere she might get to that isn't locked, and this is including outside, although it'll be cold as a witch's tit because it's still January. She can be startled to wakefulness but will also be incredibly confused!

Please specify preferred location of interaction in tag headers.]

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Alex doesn't sleep much these days. He never slept well before, mind, because things still nag at him. No matter how he rationalizes, no matter how he spins through every cycle of his past behavior, there's no dismissing the screams in his head as he left each and every one of them to die. He led them into those cracked, fragmenting places and left them. He knew what he was doing. He knew why he had to do it. He had to make sure.

He's not in the mood for waking up in a cold sweat tonight, so he tugs on a thick jacket, retrieves his communication device, and asks the closet for a camera. It gives him an older model, one of the kinds that runs on tapes, but that's fine, he's used to it, and tapes tend to have a finer, more cinematic quality than the newer, sleeker cameras with their higher frame rates and holy god he just really doesn't want to think about how he's going to venture outside and just wander aimlessly like someone with a death wish.

He'd unlocked his door as soon as he mustered the intent to ditch sleep for the night, but he really wasn't expecting anyone to open the fucking door in the five minutes it took for him to get everything together. But open the door does, and inside steps -

"What the - " Alex jumps, nearly slamming into the closet in the process, backpedaling wildly. "What're you - get out!"

Similarly, Evelyn doesn't sleep much either, but this should come as no surprise when she's walking about in the middle of the night in nothing but thin bedclothes. The chill of January curls through the halls but she feels none of it, warmed by torchlight and the spice of incense.

The scent of the feast coils around her like a snake, all honeyed wines and pigeon, duck, salt. Sweetcakes and olives, bread and rich milk. Her father's revelry is accepted by the priests - with the rewards of heaven and the dark earth on the riverbanks he is permitted carnality to satiate his desires but she seeks reprieve from the ache in her temples; too much, drunk on overstimulation.

Nefertiri begs leave and departs, sweeping aside another curtain-

"Oh- I- I...oh my god."

Blinking rapidly, clearly shocked into wakefulness and feeling ill - suddenly so ill, and so cold - Evelyn clutches herself, fingers wrapped around her arms and stumbles back. Her shoulder slams into the jamb and she cries out again in surprise, looking very much the startled deer, chest heaving.

"Where- Wh-Where am I?"

Edited 2016-01-08 06:14 (UTC)

That woke her up. That also woke Alex up, because in his haste to get the fuck away he backed right up into the wall and his shoulders are now throbbing painfully from the sudden impact. He flails inelegantly, scrabbling for his phone, his camera, anything that might serve as an improvised weapon, and comes up empty.

"Wh - you're in my room." And now that he has a minute to process...wow, talk about the world's least threatening intrusion. Just some lady wandering into his room in the middle of the damn night, you know, totally normal. "Did you, uh - are you, like, in the next room over, or - because I can understand the confusion, all right, it's a big place, lotsa rooms, right?"

He's talking frantically, almost babbling, because she looks kind of scared and he doesn't want to bite her head off but his heart is still doing a hundred miles per hour and his mouth seems to be wanting to keep up.

Suddenly, violently aware of her state of undress Evelyn folds her arms tighter over her chest, grateful she'd chosen to wear a nightgown with some amount of substance. Her toes are numb, her hair spilling chilly ringlets over bare shoulders. Showing up in a stranger's bedroom in the middle of the night was not only unanticipated but unheard of - one doesn't burst rantum scantum into the chambers of a fellow resident without prior familiarity, at least.

Which is perhaps the crux of this argument: she does recognise the young man, even in shadowed light, even in the dark. A face Evelyn is certain she hasn't seen in years, and one she doubts would take well to her knowing his name.

"N-No, I...I must have been..."

Evelyn trails off, staring through him glassily for a moment.

Another long wall, covered in bright colors and chronicling the rise of Seti.

"...I'm so sorry, this...I must have been walki- sleep walking. I didn't mean to-" Flushed and disoriented she presses a palm over her mouth. "...I'm sorry."

"You sleepwalk?" He regards her warily, uncertain over that particular emotional response as well as her expression. Fear, alarm, apology - that's all there, and that's exactly what he'd expect. But is that - is that recognition?

Except he's pretty sure he's never seen this chick in his life. He's pretty sure he'd remember, too, ~~unless that's just another one of those things he forgets~~ because she's pretty striking, not to mention, well, this is a hell of a first introduction.

Alex breathes out a slow rush of a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his itching eyes. "Jesus Christ. I mean, I had the door unlocked 'cause I was about to go out, I didn't mean for anyone to - shit. Shit."

She looks upset, so he raises both hands, palms out.

"But, uh, it's no big deal, right? No big. You didn't catch me doing anything scandalous, just bad timing, it's fine, it's all good." Right, yeah. All good here. All good.

The striking woman in the silk nightgown, who under normal circumstances might chide conversational partners for an extreme use of expletives, catches her breath slowly and takes in a room that most certainly belongs to a young bachelor while said young bachelor tries to reassure her that he won't fling the nearest object at her.

It isn't messy, but it is unkempt - pieces of clothing strewn about haphazardly, a single light on, resting upon the dresser, small objects she recognises as more modern camera equipment for portable, mobile filming.

Shifting her weight from one foot to the other Evelyn wishes that she had thought to retrieve a robe in her unconscious state, as the floor is very cold and her skin prickles like gooseflesh. How far had she wandered? What floor is this?

Furrowing her brow at the nearest clock she looks to him again, perplexed.

"...you were going out at three in the morning?"

Hey.

Alex's expression folds into a frown as he scowls at her. Is she judging him. Oh no, hell no, that is not how this works, she does not get to judge him when she is the one who entered his goddamn room at ass o'clock in the morning, thank you very much. He'd been thinking, you know, maybe he should offer her a jacket or something since she seems cold and that would be the polite thing to do, but look at that, that offer just went right out the window with that little comment.

"You're the one who broke in at three in the morning," he snaps. "What I do in my room is my business, all right? You just wandered in."

Great, well now he sounds incredibly shady on top of it. Way to rock a first impression, Kralie, great job. A freaking plus.

Astonishingly Evelyn is employing no judgment, but concerned that any individual who doesn't happen to be suffering from the memories of a past life would willingly subject themselves to working at three in the morning. It is difficult not to project compassion and motherly regard on younger peoples with a son of her own, bothered less by her own upset when faced with that of others.

The vehemence with which he responds is a far cry from the more understanding approach not ten seconds ago; Evelyn visibly shrinks against the jamb, already thoroughly humiliated by the fact that she'd somehow wandered out of her bedroom without her husband noticing, down a hall and into another corridor entirely, all while unconscious and in her sleepwear.

Were she not still dragging herself from discombobulation she might demonstrate reproach for rudeness, but she hardly has the right. Chastened, Evelyn mumbles another quiet my apologies and retreats, bumping into the edge of the still-open door and backing into the hall.

She might better orient herself there, to begin the shameful return to her rooms and hope that Rick hasn't yet woken up.

Aw shit, now he's scared her off. Alex hovers in indecision for a minute when she backs right out of the room, torn between vehement self-justification and unexpected regret. Not everyone can be held accountable for the things they did while asleep, without their conscious consent, and a chill rattles down his spine at the thought. He's watched enough footage of himself wandering out into the open with no memory of the experience -

No.

He's not thinking about that.

But he follows her into the hall (taking care to lock the door behind him, thanks), shoulders sagging.

"Look, I - I didn't mean - " Well, no, he really really did mean that, but she's so obviously scared and apologetic that - goddamn, well now he just feels like an asshole. "I'm sorry. I just - you took me off guard."

Jesus Christ. Why is he the one apologizing to her now?

Sadly, Evelyn blames herself for a great many things.

Taking on the burden becomes much easier once you've made enormous mistakes, and she is aware that her curiosity almost always gets the better of her. While this particular scenario may not fall into that category, it stands to reason she would back down until she has recovered enough to tell herself that these memories are not hers, and she cannot take full responsibility for what they make her do.

Still - he follows and she almost worries that his sudden anger will manifest itself physically. (While Evelyn might be perfectly capable of defending herself from any attack, three o'clock and a near-négligée would prefer she leave peaceably.) Her back hits the opposite wall and she flinches.

"As I said, I'm- I'm very sorry, I didn't mean...to intrude. I should go, the- the hour is late, I am in no fit shape to be here-"

No fit shape at all.

"Look, I don't, uh. I don't know if you, uh, if you've got a lotta experience with this sorta thing." Advice? Is that what he's doing now? Now that his heart isn't playing Led Zeppelin's greatest hits in his chest, it's easier to dwell on the fact that it might not've been just the intrusion that alarmed him. Well, not easier. More immediate, maybe, particularly in terms of something that always exists in the abstract.

The sight had touched something horrible and familiar and he doesn't want to think about that (Philip said, he said it wasn't here so it can't be pulling anyone's strings if it's not here because it's not that powerful, it will never be that powerful, it's gone and he checked and he checked and he checked and not every sleepwalker has ties to a thing beyond their conception) but he can't leave something like this to itself.

"I - you didn't mean to, all right, I get it," the words pour out in a frantic spill and his heart thumps painfully in his ribcage, "I get it, more than you might think, okay, but sometimes - sometimes you can, if you film yourself, you can see - where you go. You can keep it from happening. Sometimes."

His mouth is dry.

Why did he say that.

Hands fluttering to her chest - her locket - Evelyn watches him with distinct wariness, tracking each movement with overt conscientiousness. Something in her from the dream lingers, concentration or distrust, and finds it difficult to accept a blatant change in hostility. He wants to relate now and relate he does, making a suggestion she wouldn't otherwise have come to on her own.

"Filming?" she queries, not in disbelief but confusion. Has Alex walked about in his sleep as well? Has he suffered the same? Evelyn is not certain she wants to know where she goes and why, not when she would much prefer these dark dreamings to find another host.

"I...hadn't considered," Evelyn begins, shaking her head. "Does it help?"

"Sometimes. If you know where you're going and why - sometimes you can stop it." He swallows thickly. The sick twisting in his gut could be anything, fear, trepidation, distrust, maybe his body flat-out rebelling against the urge to share that kind of advice. Maybe they've got similar problems. It's just a recommendation, from one insomniac to another. Is that kind of thing subversive these days? Revealing? Dangerous? No. Hell no. Right now he's probably more unnerving to her than she is to him.

Well, that's justified.

"Or resolve it, or - " He swipes a hand over his face, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eyes. "Look. I didn't mean - you didn't have control of that, okay? You just - startled me. I didn't expect to see anyone in the room with me."

Not to mention that the last few times something else ended up in the same room as him, it ended - poorly.

Frankly, Evelyn is of the current opinion that the only thing capable of stopping her is a padlock and a straightjacket, but she wouldn't dare recommend those things to her husband. Misled but by no means mad she considers Alex's suggestion. Arbitrary wandering is one thing, but if she is doing so with purpose then more questions are raised than answered.

"I...thank you, for the suggestion."

She takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly and not entirely certain she wants to continue this conversation whilst shivering in her nightie.

"...what floor is this?"

"Fourth." He recognizes the overwhelming desire to get out of an awkward, unsalvageable situation, and Alex folds to it. He doesn't want to get in her way. He's not really built to deal with shit like this, not in terms of other people, people besides himself.

He shuffles on the spot, hating himself for making the suggestion in the first place, hating himself for the offer he's about to make. "Um, you need me to call someone or something?"

He doesn't do this. In general, Alex Kralie doesn't give a hot shit what anyone else does in their sleep or their spare time. He doesn't get involved, just as a hard-and-fast rule. But this lady - her deal is just a little too awfully familiar for him to ignore it straight-up. The least he can do is ease her out of it.

It is primarily an awkward, unsalvageable situation because Evelyn stepped into it with a perfect stranger by quite literally stepping into his rooms without knocking or asking first. If he hasn't left their room already, Rick is very likely waking up now and wondering why his wife has wandered so far from the nest.

"No, no thank you, I can- I can find my way back."

More or less. Evelyn clears her throat.

"I hope when next we meet it will be under less discomfiting circumstances."

"Uhh, yeah. Me, um. Me too."

With that, Alex retreats and starts pawing for the doorknob so he can slip quietly back into his room and forget that any of this ever happened.

He pauses at the doorframe. "Uh. Bye."

And shuts the door quickly behind him. The whole thing was getting just a bit too weird, and he can respect that she'd want to escape the situation, because he'd wanted to too. Besides, at least it put a stop to any further night wanderings Alex might've had planned. That was fucked enough for him to decide against going out in search for further weirdness.

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[OPEN] and you may ask yourself

Alex's room because how's that for first impressions

sooo maybe I should mention that Evie knew our old Alex...............

lmaooooo SECOND IMPRESSIONS IT IS

it was so long ago but she once chewed him out for being rude and u don't forget that

i'm sorry to say alex is still a rude lil shit

somehow this is not at all surprising to me

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