It may very well be the worst thing that's ever happened to you! | OPEN MINGLE

[vitaelamorte]

Who: EVERYONE!
Where: EVERYWHERE!
When: Friday October 27th - Tuesday October 31st
Rating: PG-13, warn if you're gonna go higher!
Summary: A catch all for the Horrible Memory Truth Event!
The Story:

For the duration of this event, everyone's entire room will be replaced with a memory playing on loop. They will likely recognize the moment as soon as they see it – it is a moment they remember as the worst moment of their entire lives. It could be a memory from home or something that happened in Wonderland. Lengths of the memories will vary, but they will find that these are not memories they can merely watch – they can step into these memories and attempt to make changes to them, and the memories will be long enough that they have time to make changes (though no more than 24 hours). However, anyone who tries will find that it is futile. No matter what you do or how hard you try, the outcome is always exactly the same somehow. No changes you make will prevent that horrible outcome. It just happens over and over and over again no matter what you do.

On top of that, perhaps complicating any attempts to make changes, everyone will be forced to be honest for the duration of the event. No lies or half-truths are allowed, and filters will be gone for the entire five days. If something bothers someone then they will blurt it out, regardless of whether or not it hurts someone's feelings, and no one will be able to simply keep quiet when they have something to say. They must be truthful and honest with every word they say.

This is a catch-all log for all of your Worst Memory needs! Please mark your threads clearly in the subject line with your character's name and Room Number + Floor for character rooms, or just location if you're making a top level for a public place in the mansion (like the tea rooms or the kitchen) so people can see if there's already a thread available. And here's the plot post if you need it!

Have fun!

Comments

[nascensibility]

[Ah, and the library ghost shows himself. For a moment there, she thought he might have pretended not to hear her. Evelyn's hand lingers on the spine of the book for a long moment, as she contemplates what next to say. One look askance - cursory, brief, assessing - to determine where he is, when he is. Rode hard and put up wet.]

I'm not the only one who needs looking after.

[She raises an eyebrow, but doesn't linger on the words themselves before turning to lean against the shelf.]

And I didn't say it was a problem. I just...don't like it, it's like- like being in a cage, or a box. Like an experiment.

[scoutsniper]

You might not be the only one, but that doesn't mean you don't need someone checking up on you.

[And he's just the one to do it. Self-appointed.]

Experiment? [He shrugs. ] YOu can go wherever you want, ma'am.

[The 'ma'am' is a reminder that he's on duty. This is strictly professional.]

How are you holding up?

[nascensibility]

[Ma'am.

There it is again, a single word that almost obliterates the weight of their last conversation at the docks. Evelyn tries not to let it show just how much it rankles in the twist of her lips, but she's always been honest and an event that forces candour isn't going to change her much.]

Don't do that. Don't treat me like a job.

[Bad enough he came in here without letting her know. Bad enough he wants to help her, but seems to have an incredibly low opinion of whether she can actually help herself.]

I just got to relive making the worst mistake of my life about a half-dozen times. I'm not exactly copacetic.

[scoutsniper]

You're not a job.

[Okay, fuck this truth speaking shit. Right in the goddam ear. ] Ma'am. [He forces the formality out between almost gritted teeth.]

Yeah, I know the feeling.

At least it looks like you could walk away. [He had...not been so detached.]

[nascensibility]

[Evelyn rolls her eyes at the second ma'am. He's certainly doing his damnedest to lean on professionalism as long as he's able.

Being forthright is something she prefers to think of as a virtue, rather than something to one's detriment - while there are occasions when deception or double-talk is called for, she will always fall back to the truth no matter how sharp. It is rarely a comfortable thing.]

You can't change the past. [It comes out more blunt than intended, no thanks to the event. She swallows hard, expression apologetic, trying to reform the words.] ...I couldn't sit there knowing it wouldn't be different, no matter what I did. I hurt people, and it happened, and I can't go back.

[Evelyn knows what his room must look like. What his attachment is. The bricks and mortar of his loss. And yet-]

You're here.

[scoutsniper]

[The professionalism is a crutch, yeah, because he needs everything he can lean on to feel like he's even remotely stable.]

Yeah. I'm here. I didn't leave on my own.

[It's a weakness to admit that much.]

And it's not about changing it. It's about, I don't fucking know. Witnessing it. [It's hard to explain.]

[nascensibility]

[He's here, and he didn't have to be. It says something. Evelyn doesn't yet know what.]

Suffering?

[There is no other reason to witness what they've been forced to witness. Alice had told Evelyn that the event would be an intimate one. Personal. Avoidable, but not preventable. She pushes off of the shelf and moves closer to him, closer than might be comfortable for the sake of keeping the conversation private in a public place.]

Haven't we given more than our fair share in pounds of flesh?

[scoutsniper]

Maybe that's what it means for this place. And it can have it, this time.

[Because he'd suffer, either way.]

I mean...for them. My family. Maybe myself.

Shit. I mean, after the first few times, you're at least spending time with them, again.

[nascensibility]

[Evelyn doesn't know that the interpretation is accurate - neither does she know if hers is, even with all her years here - but if the idea that Frank posits is correct, she has no notion of how to apply it to her own experience.

Unless the witnessing is as Biblical as her own, and the dead rise for her to contend.

Evelyn takes a deep breath and sighs through her nose, because she cannot fault him for wanting more time even at the risk of his own health and safety - she would do the same. But dredging himself through last moments as bloody as a war zone is no way to remember. In full view so as not to startle, she moves to take his arm and tug lightly in the direction of the quiet work space in the corner.]

Tell me about them.

[scoutsniper]

You can go look, if you want. [It's not like she doesn't already know. But that's not what she's asking--a few minutes of time, but what he knew over years and years.]

My daughter--she acted like a little kid, like she did the last time I was home. Like she was trying to convince me no time had passed or something. Like she knew, already, that I needed some kind of bridge back to the real world.

[nascensibility]

[She knows, and the offer is a generous one, but Evelyn has no desire to see a warm, happy tapestry ripped out from under the feet of a man who didn't deserve it.

But Frank doesn't pull away from her, so she silently leads him over to a set of chairs, a sofa, a coffee table, while he talks.]

She sounds smart. [Evelyn prompts,] Insightful.

[scoutsniper]

[Maybe he didn't deserve it. Maybe that's why it all happened. It was worse to believe it was just random, in a way.

But he lets her lead him to a chair, and perches on one.] Smarter than me. Sometimes I can't believe she was part of me, you know? That I was part of making her.

[nascensibility]

[This is partly a distraction. Partly something born of a need to better known a person, partly something else entirely. Evelyn pulls away from her own distress by embedding herself in another's narrative. She would hazard that they both need the company.]

It's hard not to think that, when they come out seeming that much more clever than you.

[She seats herself on the chair next to him, leaning up against the armrest.]

You wonder where it came from.

[scoutsniper]

[He could use the company, sure, and Evelyn somehow makes him feel human, sometimes. Or close to it.]

It felt like some kind of obligation, you know, to make sure that stuff didn't get beaten down, you know? Like if I did my job right, they could really shine.

[nascensibility]

[Curled up against a plush cushion Evelyn rests her chin in her hand, watching him. Obligations are fickle, complicated things, and more often than not self-inflicted.

She should know.

A parent likes to think that by putting in the hours they can build a better world for their children. By investing so much of themselves, they can pay it into a coffer somewhere that a son or a daughter may access at a later date. Grow into. Grow out of. It's never quite enough to satisfy.]

And did they?

[scoutsniper]

[He gives a shrug that tries to be nonchalant, casual, but it's like something wakes up in his body, and the shrug turns into a twist that seems almost painful, and the smile he was going for stiffens.]

Never got to find out.

[nascensibility]

[Of course he didn't.

It was insensitive to ask, perhaps, though Evelyn would have liked to know how far they reached before they were cut down. Before that time was unceremoniously taken from them by someone he was supposed to trust. Frank looks so unbelievably uncomfortable at the thought, something rolling dark and foreign under his skin that she bridges the gap to take his hand, to still those waters.

No pity there, but determination. No sympathies, but understanding. It is difficult to communicate what the loss of a child is like to those with no experience in it. Mute recognition feels like a thousand words, anyway.]