lunatic of a god or a god of a lunatic? [open]

[postictal]

Who: Tim Wright and you
Where: Nevereverland
When: October 21st - October 25th
Rating: PG-13 for dark imagery, hallucinations, kid violence, depressive thoughts, suicide ideation, aaaaaand emetophobia
Summary: Tim's about eight years old with a lot of problems and a false, Lost One memory.
The Story:

dead man's peak; i just want to be better than your head's only medicine

Miracles like this are too good for things like him. Tim already knows it for a fact. He tried drinking from the spring, the waters that are meant to be capable of healing even the most unknowable and strange of malaises, but it never worked. It still doesn't work. He's still sick, still weak, still a burden on everyone and everything else.

But sometimes it's enough to take the edge off. To keep him from losing his dinner because of an upset stomach or a poorly-timed panic attack that takes the strength from his knees and causes him to hack up blood, and then whatever meager meal he managed to force down that day. Only problem is that with the adults being...who they are, where they are, he knows they might take that opportunity to snatch him up, drag him away. Say that they know best for him, even if they don't, they really don't. He knows what he deserves, and it's this, it's all of this. Kids who call him weak, kids who say he's useless, kids who know he's nothing but a burden. But at least this way he doesn't hurt anyone else.

He just has to make sure no one sees him as he sprints inelegantly up to the spring and starts to gulp down the water greedily, eyes darting furtively about in case anyone tries to sneak up behind him.

lost one encampment; i only want what i can't have

[He just gets in the way. He knows it. He's a kid with a lot of problems, and nothing anyone does is gonna make that better. And it's bad enough that sometimes he seizes, has fits, blacks out so hard that he forgets what he's done for weeks on end. He's been here for...for years, hasn't he? Years and years. Maybe decades. But he doesn't feel or look any older.

He tries to sleep as far away from the others as he can, even if it scares him, because he knows he's not very fun to be around. He knows no one gets a good night's sleep when he's nearby. It's just that things had to change with the influx of adults, of people who might steal them away, and now he's regretting it. Because this is what happens, and it's what's happening now.

It starts with a loud, panicked cry, and it only worsens from there. Tim's yelp soon lapses into loud, hoarse coughing, a harsh and sickening sound as he coughs wetly, blood spattering across the ground and his hands. Then comes the retching. Then comes the dry heaves, the shaking, the trembling panic as his brain intones that this is it, he's reached the end, he's going to die nothing is going to save him.

That's when he starts to see It. It wisps into his vision, impossibly thin, head tilted to one side at an angle that somehow approximates scornful curiosity. It shivers on the spot, as if he's looking at it through shimmering waves of heat or through water, but it doesn't matter. It's here, and even if everyone will say It's not real, he knows It is.

Tim chokes back a sob. This is when it gets to its worst. He buries his head in his hands and waits for first of the Lost Ones to wake up and kick him out. Again.]

anywhere; what good comes of something when i'm just the ghost of nothing

Maybe you see him first. Maybe you just hear him screaming. Because he is, in fact, screaming, screaming very loudly with his hands gripping his temples, fisted into his hair. He's curled on the ground with tear tracks on his face, his shouts mostly wordless, but sometimes made up of strange and improbable litanies:

"You're not real, you're not real!"

"Why'd you bring me here?"

"Stop it, stop it, please! I'll do whatever you say, please!"

But around him, beside him, behind him, there's only - well, there's nothing. There's nothing at all. He looks about on the edge of some kind of terrible, insurmountable panic, and there's no definable trigger. But of course, that's not what the little boy is seeing.

He sees something tall and dark, blending almost imperceptibly with the jagged spikes of the tree trunks but for the white patch of its ivory-smooth face. He'd swear it's laughing at him, mocking him, taunting him. He'd swear it is. Only it must not be, because there's really nothing there.

But that won't stop him from howling in such obvious pain.

attack; a downward spiral just a pirouette

[He's no good in a fight. He knows this. But he also knows someone's been following him for the better part of an hour now, and it's definitely not the thing he's used to seeing ghosting quietly behind him. It's something more tangible, something that breaks twigs underfoot with a menacing proximity.

He's no good at this. No good at confronting the things in his dreams, let alone things in real life. But if what everyone's saying is true, then...then he's gotta try, right? He's gotta try. He's gotta try. He's gotta try, or they'll take him back.

He stops, bends down until he can claw up a suitably heavy-looking branch. He brandishes it, inelegantly, trying to muster any kind of firmness to his voice as he speaks:]

C-come out! I know you're there!

wildcard; getting worse 'till there's nothing left

[Don't see something you can work with? No problem! Hit me with whatever you want! I'll match any format. If you got any questions, hit me over at arrpee!]

Comments

The anywhere option?

[theothermrgray]

Dorian heard the screaming. Tim's screaming. Great, one of the weaker boys was having trouble. As much as Dorian hated to just kill intruders directly, sometimes a wooden stake laced with poison was nessicary for the job.

Dorian rushed to Tim's side as fast as his legs could carry, ready to fight off whatever was attacking him... But there was nothing in sight. No monsters, no adults, just a frightened kid and some trees.

"... Tim?" Dorian had to ask, just to make the other boy feel a little better, "What's going on? What was bothering you?"

\o/

[postictal]

By the time Dorian arrives, he's curled into as tight and compact a ball as he can manage, forehead nearly pressed into the dirt. His crying soon fades out into a terrified whimpering as he waits, waits, waits for It to reach out and hurt him. Touch the sides of his head and make him scream in pain again. His brain is still throbbing from the last time, and all he can do is brace himself for it all to come spilling at him again and again, a terrible, arrhythmic tide.

"Nnn," Tim says through clenched teeth, shaking his head furiously. "G-go away. Leave me alone! I know you're not real!"

LET THE SUFFERING BEGIN.

[theothermrgray]

Dorian jumps back at the outburst. Does Tim not recognize him? The gray fox pelt should be a dead giveaway...

Wait, he mentioned something not real...

Oh no. Not another one.

"Tim! It's Dorian. I can escort you to the encampment. You'll be safer there."

[postictal]

It's not shutting up. It's not shutting up. It just keeps talking, and he cringes, pained, as though shying away from an overly bright light. The words are little more than a disjointed smear in the air, and he can no more parse their meaning than he can their origin.

Tim abruptly rockets to his feet, his eyes wild, one hand practically welded to his temple with the other thrust out in front of him, as if that will be enough to ward away whatever invisible threat he's seeing.

"Stay away!" He doesn't have anything. Not a knife, not a sharpened stick, not anything. He should've come more prepared - but then he would've been just as likely to turn those weapons on himself. "I'll - I'll kill you!"

[theothermrgray]

Dear god, this was worse than he thought. Dorian backs up, in spite of the fact that HE was armed and Tim was not. He needs to make himself less threatening if he wants to help this kid.

"Calm down!" He's giving Tim plenty of space here. "You're imagining things. I don't mean to hurt you!"

[postictal]

"I don't - I don't believe you - "

It'll come closer. That's how It works. It comes closer, ghosts nearer, and then sinks Its fingers into his scalp and makes him hurt all over, harsh, screaming tingles shooting through his brain and down his spine. He doesn't wanna die. He doesn't wanna die.

"Prove it. Prove it!"

attack | with Chloe

[mypartnerintime]

It's hard to remember how long Max has been in this forest by now, and her arms and legs are starting to ache. Throw in the fact that she's trying to stay quiet, and the whole experience is really starting to get exhausing and tense. And they've been walking in an almost random pattern, as far as she can tell. But she just has to trust that Chloe knows where they're going, that she remembers the event... Max looks over at Chloe- so young, altered so heavily by the event, but still her Chloe, and for once in the right state of mind. And it's so easy to trust her.

Max freezes for a moment- there might have been a noise ahead of them, like someone talking. She's only ever talked to Tim once, and has never even met him in person. But... but maybe it's him. She's not sure.

She grabs Chloe' wrist and pulls her behind a big, moss-covered tree.

"Chloe- over there."

[mypartnerincrime]

The whole walk back the camp, Chloe is so preoccupied with figuring out how she can convince Tim to trust her. She had just spent almost half an hour trying to make him believe that he can tell her about whatever's been keeping him awake and maybe another hour trying to prove to him that she's not gonna leave him.

But she did. She did leave him. Not because she wanted to. But because she heard someone moving around in the woods-- that someone being Max apparently. And now, because of Max's silver glasses, she knows she's in an event and that she has to get out of here before the other Lost Ones start to suspect that she's no longer on their side. Plus the fact that Max is pretty creeped out by this whole place.

But she can't leave Tim. The other kids are gonna eat him alive if he's left all by himself. Chloe made him a promise. Now she just needs to convince him to come with them. Doesn't sound too hard.

Yeah right.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, Chloe almost walks into the camp unaware. Luckily, Max grabs her wrist and pulls her behind a tree. From the distance, she can sees Tim's figure, slumped in the shadows. She can't tell if he's already awake or still asleep.

"Come on, Max." Chloe holds Max's hand and leads her to the camp. "Be quiet."

[mypartnerintime]

"..."

So many protests are running through Max's mind.

This better not get us killed, Chloe.

What's so special about Tim anyway?

Please let's not waste this chance...

But she keeps her mouth shut, out of respect for what Chloe wants. She follows her best friend silently, crouched down so as to avoid being seen. She could have sworn that the kid up ahead said something- and the closer they get the more and more it looks like

like

the child Chloe, lying on the dirt in a scrapyard, a round wound from a single bullet, trailing blood into the wet mud.

Max's hand closes around Chloe's like a vise, her palm suddenly damp with sweat.

Lightning flashes overhead. Max looks up and sees clear skies, no storm in sight. When she looks back down, the Chloe with the wound in her forehead is gone. Max takes a ragged breath, unable to speak, merely following Chloe in a daze.

[postictal]

He'd woken up and found her gone, and beneath the layers of profound terror and panic, there'd been that twinge of vindictive satisfaction. He was right, see. She did leave, just like everyone else does. He needs to get away now, before she comes back. Before she comes back to tell him more lies about how she never really left him, trying to convince him that she's not just like all the rest.

There's the snap and crunch of twigs being trod underfoot, and he stiffens. He scrambles on the ground for a moment, fingers digging into the loose dirt and earth and leaves until he comes up with a rock, clenched tightly in his fist. He straightens up, holding it back, warily.

"Who's there?"

[mypartnerincrime]

Chloe closes her eyes for a while and grunts. Damn it. I told Max we had to be quiet. But the leaves on the ground continue to crunch and crunch as they walk. Finally, they reach Tim and she sees him holding a rock.

Well, fuck. He's awake. And has a rock. Not exactly the warmest of welcomes.

She lets go of Max and starts approaching Tim cautiously, her hands up in a sort of surrendered pose. "Hey Tim, it's me. It's Chloe. I--"

Chloe stutters, not sure what to say to the little kid. "I-- I'm sorry I left. I had to check out something in the woods. But, but now I'm back, see?"

She gives him a small smile, hoping furiously that he won't throw that blasted rock at her.

[mypartnerintime]

Just as Max finally finds her voice, Chloe pulls away. "Chloe-"

Something's wrong is what she wants to say. Instead she cuts herself short as Chloe starts talking to Tim, and it is Tim, not Chloe dead from a gunshot to her forehead. Max drags her feet, not quite ready for Tim to fully see her, and worried about the strange vision she just had- so much like the visions of the tornado, and-

Someone warned her about these hallucinations. Deep down she knows it's all part of the event. But lightning from a non-existent storm flashes overhead again, and when she looks up there are two moons in the sky.

Just like Arcadia Bay. She bits her lip to stop herself from calling out to Chloe. It's not real, she thinks, but she continues to stare.

7/7 i have nothing else to say

[mypartnerintime]

"The whole camp's awake," she tells Chloe, grabbing her by the shoulders to prevent the young girl from taking a single step further toward the camp. "All the kids are up- there's something going on, and I- I can't see Tim."

She looks Chloe square in the eye, and sniffs, tears freely streaking down her face, without shame.

"We should-... go."

waow that was looooong haha

[mypartnerincrime]

Chloe is about to step into the camp, when she is held back by Max. "How could you even know--?" She impatiently turns to look at her best friend but stops abruptly when she sees Max, crying.

"Hey, Max, what's wrong?" Chloe drops into a gentler, warmer tone. She wraps Max's hands with her own little fingers, all hints of impatience fading away. Chloe looks at Max's tear strained face and red eyes, searching for any clue as to what's upsetting her best friend.

I HAD A LOT OF IDEAS OK XD

[mypartnerintime]

She sniffs again, takes a deep, shaky breath, so obviously on the edge of breaking down further. Tears continue to work their way down her cheeks, and she rubs vigorously at her eyes with a sleeve before continuing.

"I'll- tell you... everything. Can we please just... go away first? It's not- not safe."

dead man's peak

[naughty_nurse]

[Mikan, even as a child, has an obsessive need to nurse people back to help - even if they don't want help. There are rumors she's actually pushed people into the spring or hurt others in order make them need the spring and need her help. But she's so small and fragile, stammering and fidgeting, so those just have to be the words of mean kids picking on her.

Right?

Step. Step. Step. Mikan walks towards the spring, eyes on Tim, trying to see if he's being helped this time...]

[postictal]

[He's gulping down the water cupped in his hands when he hears footsteps, shuffling closer and closer. He jolts, jerking upright in an abrupt jump-and-stumble that nearly trips him over and has him landing flat on his back. He wipes at his mouth with the back of one wrist, trying to not look guilty. Trying not to feel guilty. He's got every right to be here. Anyone does.]

Wh-what do you want?

[naughty_nurse]

[She's trying not to smile. Maybe he did get hurt. They'll have to see.]

I w-wanted to see if you needed help.

[postictal]

I'm fine.

[It's a lie, but admissions of weakness mean someone can take advantage. He doesn't dare. It's already obvious to anyone with a set of eyes that he's not fine, ever.]

What's it to you?

[naughty_nurse]

I l-like helping people... I like t-taking care of them. Whenever someone needs to be healed, they h-have to come here.

encapment

[mypartnerincrime]

[Chloe wakes up with a start. For a moment, she cant't figure out what woke her up so suddenly. And then she hears it again-- the screams, retching then sobbing, coming from Tim's area. Chloe gets up, checks if her slingshot is in her pocket, then makes her way to him.

She doesn't know him that well, truth be told. But they do get along pretty alright... well, at least enough for Chloe to start caring when she hears him sobbing in the middle of the night.]

Tim? You okay?

[postictal]

[When she finds him, he's awkwardly half-curled around himself, one hand clutching his head and the other the middle, long, painful breaths peeling out of his too-tight chest. He tries to bite back a whimper when he hears a quiet murmur, his back arching as he struggles to get to his feet - and promptly fails. He's trembling too hard.]

S-sorry. Sorry. I'll go. I'll go. Please don't - don't -

[Please don't hurt me, he means to say. But the words freeze somewhere in this throat.]

[mypartnerincrime]

[Chloe watches him try to get up, then rushes to him as he falls. She holds his arms in an attempt to help him find a more comfortable position. She can feel him trembling; Chloe tightens her grip a bit, then starts rubbing his arms up and down, in what Chloe hoped to be a comforting manner.]

Hey, it's okay, it's okay. You don't have to leave.

[She looks into his pale, sweating face.]

Did you have a nightmare?

[postictal]

[For a moment he seems frozen, unable to process. Not just because someone's - touching him, and he tries to snap out of her grip and fails because he's got no muscular dexterity to put behind the movement. So he simply hangs there, miserable, squirming.

Trying not to think of the way bruises in the shapes of fingertips bit into his arms because he fought too hard. Jackets tightened, and it's all - it's all too much.]

W-worse.

[His eyes flick up.

It's standing there, silently. Waiting.

He looks back down again, trying again to wiggle out of her grip.]

Way worse.

[mypartnerincrime]

[Chloe can feel Tim feebly trying to get away from her. The first time, she does nothing but continue to hold him. It was such a weak attempt, she could have just pretended to not notice it. The second time however, was a little stronger, so Chloe decides to let go willingly.

Okay, okay. I can take a hint. You don't want to be touched. Got it.

But Chloe doesn't get up. She stays where she is, kneeling right next to Tim, careful not to lay a finger on him this time.]

What's worse than a nightmare?