burns my ears when they sing

[burntvideocassette]

Who: Jay and you
Where: The Mansion + The Grounds
When: April 8th-10th
Rating: PG-13; the usual Marble Hornets mental health talk, made worse by the event
Summary: Jay's Gradual Relapse: the Rock Opera

Day 2 - Open - The Library - The Lonely Life of the UFO Researcher

He's finally, finally teased a decent laptop out of the closet, one with enough power to render ten minutes of video without taking a day and a half before crashing and requiring a restart. It's an improvement. Hell, it's an improvement over his old machine.

Is that still in his car?

He doesn't think about that. Instead, he sinks into a plush, red couch in one of the reading rooms, laptop open, and focuses on the screen. No entries anymore, so no real use in editing the footage he's taken, but it keeps his mind occupied, and when an event's just crested the horizon and George has seriously just started singing, publicly, on Wonderland's sorry excuse for the internet, a distraction is what he needs. Behind the editing software, he's got a document open for brainstorming, and there's a tall stack of books on the table next to him -- regional American folklore, Germanic folklore, true crime, medical journals, anything that might give him a better understanding of the situation back home. Inside the pocket of his sweatshirt, there's a bottle of pills.

He doesn't notice when he starts humming, and he very nearly doesn't notice when the tune develops lyrics.

Antenna towers and distant hopes
I’ve measured happiness with telescopes
Well, I’ve been face to face with what my future brings
The reels they turn, recording blips and pings
Through the white noise and distortion
There’s a message I can feel
Just give me one sign that you’re real

An orange glow, some blinking lights
Don’t know how most folks spend their Friday nights
Well I’ve seen evidence no one would dare dispute
Witness accounts make up my life’s pursuit
And in those photos, there’s a sadness
And a message I can feel
Just give me one sign that you’re real
Please give me one sign that you’re real

His voice is soft and unpracticed, wavering off-key when it comes to the higher notes, but it's not as bad as he dreaded. And hell, it's not like anyone's listening.

Day 3 - Open - Near the Woods - Lost Like This

It's getting worse--he's getting worse. What was that Tim warned him about? Mood swings? He read the name of the compound, something generic, something he could track down and look up and read about. Psychopharmacology -- modern marvel, right? Throw something at the human brain and see what sticks. Flies then mice then rats then monkeys then human beings, and they throw so many out on the way up, but they don't test long enough, do they? Don't take into account the long-term effects. Sample size is too small, time's too short, and what was that Alex told him? About corruption and big business and copyright and all that?

He's not sure if it makes sense. He's not sure if he's making sense, but he's stopped for now. No dose tonight, no dose tomorrow, and if Tim gets pissed off that's on him, because what works on him won't work for everyone, clearly.

Clearly.

The Gryphon said something (he can wind back the tape if he really wants to remember), and maybe that's it. Maybe that's all this is. Maybe it's fine, maybe the pills Tim shoved down his throat are fine, really, and maybe he shouldn't skip doses because maybe that'll make it worse. Maybe that's why he felt so off so quickly. Maybe this is his fault.

Focus.

Rethink your doubts, it said. Find a place within yourself. And that's what he's doing, right? It's not a place within himself, exactly, it's a place outside, where it's wet and dark and the crickets are buzzing, but that's fine. It's the doubts part he's dealing with first, since the other part's either a metaphor or disturbingly literal. If it's literal, it should be fine. He's been hollowed out enough. Should be room.

Focus.

It's not here, Tim told him, except when there's an event. Hasn't seen the real thing since he showed up, but that doesn't mean anything for sure. It's not the same woods, here, not even remotely. Different biome, different trees, different everything. It's dangerous for different reasons. But there's nowhere else he can really think of to go. He's gotten antsy, looking through books and poring through footage with nothing, no bars of static, no blips of audio distortion, no shadows moving along the walls, no leads. The only way this stops is if he figures out what's going on -- not just now, here, in this event, but everything. Back home, here -- even if it's not all connected, there should be something. There must be something he can do.

Jay Merrick stares into the darkness between the trees, camera clutched in a white-knuckle grip, and freezes.

What the hell is he doing?

Mumbled and near-hysterical, a song winds its way out of him.

I'm standing all alone, out in the pouring rain
And though it really isn't like me to complain
I think I'm getting used to it

I feel happy, and I also feel bad
I've never been here, but somehow I think I have
But I'm getting used to it

He sways, something like a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Nobody's watching. It's fine. It's fine.

I've never been lost like this
I've never been lost like this
But I wouldn't be happy anywhere else
Nobody to tell us what to do, all by ourselves

He's at the treeline now, not quite stepping in, but just close enough to get a better look.

Don't know how I got here
And I don't know why I stay
The poets all around are laughing in their graves
Must be something I said

This place is not like anything I've seen before
The spirits move around; the houses have no doors
But I'm getting used to it

I've never been lost like this
I've never been lost like this
But I wouldn't be happy anywhere else
Nobody to tell us what to do, all by ourselves

They're not looking for him, are they? Shouldn't be. Wouldn't make sense for them to be. Tim worries about him, sure, but he's not watching, not close enough. He won't even look at the footage.

Even his parents stopped calling, after a while.

Still, he leans back and looks back at the mansion, feeling rough bark press against his spine through his shirt. He watches silhouettes move behind yellow-lit windows.

The others wouldn't be too thrilled, if they saw him out here. They wouldn't admit it makes sense. They wouldn't admit it's the right thing to do, because if they did, they'd have to admit they're hiding. As tempting--god, as tempting as it is to hide, everything stalls out when he tries. You don't get information by being a coward.

Isn't this a fine hello?
I wish I hadn't seen you go
It's always been a bitter pill
The broken mirror's broken still
The letters never made the post
A thousand more I never wrote
And here, on the dark, unfriendly streets
I find the comfort that I seek
And I'm happy, and I've been happy

I've never been lost like this
I've never been lost like this
But I wouldn't be happy anywhere else
Nobody to tell us what to do, all by ourselves

Day 4 - CLOSED to Clem and Tim - The Entrance Hall - Woke up afraid of my own shadow -- like, genuinely afraid

He knew it. He fucking knew it. Worse, he's positive they all did, too. Tim, both of them, but not just him. Georgia and Shaun and Clementine and Shepard and Sans and Dan and the Queen and everyone. They kept quiet, just long enough for Jay to get complacent enough for Tim to weave a lie convincing enough that it'd make him think it was okay. He's fine. Everything's fine. This place isn't like back home.

Bullshit.

He never left. He never left, and now he can see this place for what it is. He can see the cracks. Streaks of red-orange-yellow-black-white tug at the edges of his vision, and even if he can't see it, he knows the configuration changes when he looks away. Buffers just fast enough to load when he looks, but he's not fooled. The room's changing. Doesn't work like a real thing should, but it's real. It's there, and maybe if he wasn't so gullible, if he wasn't so stupid, he would've noticed sooner.

Jay rubs at the handle of the knife with his thumb, adjusting his grip. He can feel the dirt caked under his nails, can feel the sting left when the branches clawed scraped against his arms. He's tracking mud across the carpet.

The camera's rolling. He just changed the tape. There's a couple spares in his pocket, still wrapped in plastic, if this runs long.

He's going to find Tim. He's going to find the others.

He's going to find Jessica.

He's going to get his answers, before the static covers his eyes completely.

His chest seizes, and he loses his balance, gripping the railing of the staircase. His head is buzzing, but he's going to get his answers. He's going to get his answers. He's going to get

Comments

headed for the pawnshop to buy myself a switchblade

[postictal]

It's thanks to Clem that he's even here right now, and can shake aside the worst of the misery that decided, for once, to manifest outside himself instead of the usual. The scalding, fizzling crackle and hiss of static in his ears, in his head, clouding his face and sinking him deeper and deeper into the very worst version of himself - wish he could say that was the first time that's come about in Wonderland, but it's sure made its rounds, huh? - if he's susceptible to that, then so's Jay.

Jay.

Jay, who's always charged face-first into things, who's sacrificed everything for the sake of a mystery that was only tangentially relevant to him in the first place, who let the paranoia eat him alive until he was bleeding and coughing on pavement.

"Have you seen him?" he croak-whispers to Clem - hardly daring to peel away from her side since she pulled him free from that clouding nightmare of his own making. "Jay?"

[rightcall]

Clementine still feels this well of relief in the center of her chest, threatening to overwhelm her. She has never been able to help someone in that way. She's saved people through violence or through underhanded tactics but never through words. Never because she cared about someone so much. That's new, and it felt a lot better than she's let herself process yet.

It feels amazing to see Tim without that static around him even if they're not out of the woods yet. Not until they find Jay too. Not until the Event ends.

It's why she wants Tim to stay close so she's glad he does that too. They can look together.

"No. I haven't, and I've been keeping an eye out." She moves cautiously down the steps toward the entrance hall, and that's- that's when she sees him (Jay), and he doesn't look good. He looks like he's struggling, which is exactly what she'd been worried about. She can feel that worry crawl up around her rib cage with an ache before she stifles it down, biting down on her tongue hard.

She gestures towards the staircase so Tim can see where she's pointing to.

[burntvideocassette]

There are footsteps.

They've come for him, haven't they? Come to tie him up with something sturdier this time. Come to take it away again.

Jay turns, brandishing the knife blindly. His camera's clutched close to his chest, so they can't take it they can't take it they can't take it. With an atonal squeal, the static clears for an instant. His eyes are wide, red-rimmed, and feral.

An instant is all Jay needs to recognize them.

"You're a liar!" he spits, the audio distortion spiking again as his voice cracks.

[postictal]

It's like hearing it through the camera all over again, ground out between clenched teeth as he hunched there with his arms bound around behind his back and his knees jammed up to his chest, snarling out threats and accusations between ragged breaths. You're a liar.

He was right then. He's right now.

"God," he whispers. It shouldn't be a shock, that this managed to consume Jay so utterly, but - it's one thing to have been torn free of that, and another thing entirely to watch someone be submerged in it from the outside.

That was him. Not even all that long ago, that was him.

"Don't get too close," he mutters. "He's...he can be pretty...volatile sometimes"

He's not particularly strong, but he makes up for it in unpredictability, in being far more wiry than his sticklike physique would suggest - adrenaline galvanizing him into being able to slam Tim up against a wall with a hand locked around his throat.

So he steps forward, slowly, with both hands open and the palms out.

"Jay," he says. However the hell he manages to keep the word steady, he'll never know. "I know, okay? You're right. But things don't have to be like that."

[rightcall]

Clementine breathes in sharp with her worry. She's armed as always, but she does not pull out her gun. She'll defend herself if she has to. She'll defend Tim too, but she does not want to hurt Jay at all. IT's why the gun will stay in its holster. She doesn't have to be violent here to help. They need to try to- t show Jay how much they care.

And they both do or they wouldn't be here, looking for him.

"I'll only get as close as you do," she says in a quiet voice, and she's true to her word.

Tim steps forward slowly, and Clementine does too.

"What lie are you talking about?"

[burntvideocassette]

He's right, Tim says. Like he can believe it's sincere. Like either of them'd actually agree to it if they didn't have some ulterior motive.

How can you say that? How can you ask that, when both you knew this whole time that we were trapped?

But the words stick in his throat with an awful hiss of static. He has to say something. He has to say something to make them understand, and the only words he can force through his constricted throat are:

"Give me the tape." It's a low, strangled growl. "What have you been hiding from me?"

More static, like a radio caught between stations.

"--You never told me?"

[postictal]

"We lied to each other," he says - both to Jay and to Clem, though his gaze remains more or less fixed on the shroud of white veiling his expression from view. It's Jay as he only had the misfortune to encounter once in his life, and that was more than enough. It hadn't really been Jay then, he knows now - he knows now, even if he didn't then.

Something that turned him from apologetic to violent. That contorted him into someone who lashed out blindly and brazenly, uncaring as to the consequences to himself.

"Constantly, Jay. I was just trying to get through all of this, the same as you. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. None of us did."

They were stupid.

They were stupid amateurs, and they all paid for it.

[rightcall]

It's like Jay is having his own conversation based on whatever the static has made him believe. Clementine wants to break through, but she doesn't even know- She doesn't know what tape.

Her gaze remains on Jay too- no, her gaze remains on the knife. It's habit. It's instinct bred into muscles to be prepared- to watch for danger.

"When you're trying to survive some shit, lies will happen. They have to happen. It's- It's shitty but they do. Sometimes it's the only way."

She says and then swallows, thinking of the lie she kept in order to protect herself before she ended up here. It's something she vaguely shared with Jay that she hasn't shared with anyone else.

"Jay, we were looking for you."

They care.

[burntvideocassette]

They were looking for him.

Why? What do they want?

There's something wrong with him, with his head, and he can't just talk, he has to--No, no, he's fine. He's fine, and he's not a liar like they are. He's not stupid, like Tim says. It's not the only way.

Rewind, play back. Force the words into place, even when they don't quite fit. They were looking for him, she said, and all he can manage in reply is a vicious, "Don't follow me!"

Knife drawn, he lunges for her first, but maybe for him, for whoever's closest and whoever's slowest, because even cautious, even with their hands up and their distance kept they're still too close, cornering him even while they're spitting out more lies. He knows they can overpower him, because he's weak and fragile and pathetic and static-blind and stupid and--no, it's not him. It's not his fault. They're cornering him. They're dangerous.

He's not sure he wants blood, but he wants something. A reaction. Maybe an ounce of goddamn control for once in his life.

[postictal]

Shit.

He doesn't have to warn her, he knows - or some part of him knows. She's a survivor, and she's had to claw her way through some impossible shit to get to where she is now. Some scrawny guy with a knife won't be enough to put her down. But all it takes is one lucky hit, and it'll be over for both of them.

In more ways than one.

"Woah, woah, hey." He starts backing up, now watching that knife far more intently. "You're not Alex, okay? You're not him. And I'm sorry. I sorry I couldn't - "

His throat works silently for several seconds before he can force the words out.

"I'm sorry I messed up. I'm sorry I keep messing up. I should've done more, I know."

[rightcall]

Clementine backs up to the other side. Her muscles remain tense, and her gaze surveys the area in front of the both of them. She is prepared, and she won't let him get a hit on her. She'll lash out first. She understands now how her words were- They weren't the right ones.

They would make someone who is paranoid more anxious than they are already.

She breathes out. Her jaw locked. Emotion caught in her throat.

"We weren't following you. We were worried. I care about you, Jay."

That is a truth she can give.

[burntvideocassette]

What?

Jay halts, pulls back, knife still held tight as the static hisses and spikes.

What?

Apologies. They don't make sense, they don't register as real the way the knife in his hand and the dirt under his fingernails do, but there's something in the way Tim pauses, the way his throat cuts him off partway that feels

familiar.

It feels like what if this is my fault. It feels like all the stress is probably making you really paranoid BUT WHAT IF I'M RIGHT?

And her, too, the way her words stick in her throat, the way she says she's worried. That she cares. The words don't make sense, not in this context, but there's something behind them.

The way his voice shakes when he says says he should have done more, like there's anything he could have done to fix this. Like telling the truth would've changed anything.

They're scared.

The Lost Soul cocks his head, watching as best it can, squinting through the static.

Why--?

It freezes, locks up, as the realization sets in. It's not like back home, where the terror slips in slowly, filling up the room like fumes from a leaking pipe until you don't realize you've been choking for months. Shame wraps iron bands around his chest and pulls until his ribs crack, until the knife clatters to the ground and the static rushes up around his ears and he's shaking, he thinks he's shaking.

"You're not him," he mimics back, inaudible without any breath behind it.

He's fine. He's fine. He's fine.

His lips are moving.

"I am I am I am I am I am I am I am--"

[postictal]

I am a liar.

"You're Jay," he says, quietly.

Not good enough. He can't just be not Alex. He's barely holding on, already operating on a razor-thin edge by default, and it didn't take him much to tip him off and over it.

"You're - " The words snag in his throat before a thin, pained noise ripcords its way out, almost like a bitter sort of laugh. "God, you're so fucking dense sometimes. And you have no idea how to talk to people. You're a shitty liar, and you're an even worse detective, and it's because you care enough about you barely even knew. Because you just - you dropped everything to go after Alex, without even knowing if he was still alive, and not even because you were really ever friends. Just - just 'cause that's the kind of person you are."

Is any of this getting through? This, this vehement, pointless monologue?

"And it's, it's stupid," he says, the words spiking like a jumping line on a heart monitor, "and unbelievable, but that's you, okay? That's you."

day 3

[punful]

It's a bad day. One of the days that he'd never even bother getting out of bed, except this time it...it just came on so suddenly. And it's coupled with enough nostalgia that he's got this stupid need to wander, which isn't like him. He mostly just wanders around the duck pond, like--hell, like maybe they're just hiding in some of the reeds and are gonna jump out at him. Scare him out of his skin, heh.

It's stupid. Goddamn stupid. They're never coming back. None of them are. It's the Reset, and he's always known it was coming. He's been ready for it the whole time he's been here.

He thought he was ready for it.

He hears singing nearby, broken and frightened. He's wallowing out here, humming to himself and sinking lower and lower, and this...this at least is a distraction, whoever it is. If he can just talk to someone else, turn the subject to someone else's distress, then he can stop thinking about himself for a little while. It always makes things easier. Turn the focus outward.

So he follows the voice, and is only mildly surprised when he spots Jay pointing a camera into the woods, seemingly debating with himself whether he wants to go in or not. Sans tries to make a bit more noise than usual as he approaches. He's no longer a fan of scaring people all the damn time.

He doesn't recognize the song, but he hasn't recognized most of the songs he's sang or heard this event.

"well, uh."

Probably not the best way to announce himself. He scratches the side of his skull.

"i dunno if getting more lost would help ya there. might wanna stay out of the woods at least until daylight."

[burntvideocassette]

Jay hears rustling in the grass behind him, and he jolts, whipping around to face the source.

How long has he been here?

That question gets answered as soon as Sans starts talking. He's been watching long enough to quote lyrics, and that's bad for a whole mess of reasons.

Chief among them: He saw enough to try to talk Jay out of it.

(Just below that: Sans just caught him baring his soul--lowercase--like some fourteen year old who just downloaded My Chemical Romance's entire discography off Limewire and thought his parents weren't home for another couple hours.)

"I just--" He just what, exactly? Wanted to go for a nice walk into the death forest in the middle of the night? "Like, I've been in the library today, and I just wanted to--didn't want to lose my train of thought."

That makes sense, sure.

[punful]

He's intruding again. Invading on someone's private moments. A real comedian's sense of timing there, except in the other direction. Feels like he upsets people more than he makes them laugh or even groan anymore.

He sags, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a sigh.

"sorry. didn't mean to interrupt."

Didn't he, though? Wasn't that the point? Isn't trying to keep someone from accidentally--or intentionally--walking right into the Wonderland border a legitimate enough reason to interrupt them?

It's hard to keep his thoughts straight. All that directionless despair keeps muddling things.

He tilts his head at Jay's answer, squinting a little.

"your train of thought?"

[burntvideocassette]

"The woods, I mean," Great. Very descriptive.

Though, honestly, how descriptive can he really be here? He's got that drive in his room marked "DO NOT WATCH unless emergency", with a little sticky note about Sans attached to it, but that isn't exactly a formal outline of how much Sans knows.

Better to err on the side of caution, right? Right.

"Like, I was reading about the, uh, the woods. So I decided to, uh..." He gestures shakily to the darkness in front of him.

[punful]

He's not following. It's like Jay is trying to avoid something outright, and though Sans is usually pretty good at reading between the lines, he can't figure this one out. Maybe it has more to do with Jay's world, and whatever weird stuff goes on there.

He shakes his head.

"you lost me. but, uh. probably none of my business, anyway."

Why Jay wants to go in the woods doesn't matter as much right now.

"how 'bout you wait till daylight at least? easier to tell how far you've gone then. you don't wanna accidentally reach the border."

[burntvideocassette]

It makes sense.
It makes sense.
It makes sense.

...Fuck.

Jay screws his eyes shut, pressing the heel of his hand against his cheekbone, digging his nails into the skin along his hairline. It makes sense. Sans is making sense. Jay's not making sense.

He should go inside. He should keep reading. There's nothing out there tonight that won't be out there tomorrow night. He just needs something. A distraction.

"The border?" He's trying to keep his tone even, trying to keep it light, but the way his teeth are grit tight enough to make his jaw ache is making that tough. "Is that...the edge of Wonderland, is that what's out there?"

That's what he needs. Information.

[punful]

He thinks maybe he's starting to understand what's going on. Jay's always seemed...curious, maybe too much for his own good. Tim's mentioned it, and that whole conversation about that thing that Sans can't tell anyone...

Sans can't help but wonder if Jay is still trying to dig into it.

So maybe Jay just needs something else to think about right now.

"yeah, exactly. wonderland's got edges. if you try to go past 'em...well, uh, you die. you go out too far into the woods or into the ocean and somethin' stops you. you start getting real tired before that, kinda like a warning."

He's felt it, the times he's tried to go a bit too far into the woods to escape some event or other.

[burntvideocassette]

Jay's eyes widen.

"I mean, I knew you died if you went out too far, but I thought that was just, like--" He fidgets with the camera strap. "--Hypothermia or starvation or whatever, not...okay."

Months and months ago, he talked to somebody about this. A scientist. Physicist, he thinks.

"Has anybody gotten footage? Like, not a person, obviously, but--but has anybody strapped a camera to, like, an RC plane or, or something and sent it out there?"

If nobody has, could he do that? Could he see what happens when it hits the edge?

[punful]

Sans rubs the back of his skull.

"yeah, uh. wonderland doesn't really mess around."

Not where it counts, at least. This world is brutal.

He's not sure why Jay is so interested in this now, but oh well. If talking about it keeps him from actually going in there, then it's worth it.

"don't think so, no. i'm not sure any kind of drone would survive past the edges. they'd probably just shut down."

He gives Jay a curious look.

"though i guess you could try sending something out there, see for yourself."

Maybe the guy wants a project?

Jay Most Certainly Wants A Project

[burntvideocassette]

Jay chews at the inside of his cheek before muttering, "Need to figure out some way to get it to broadcast."

Again, he lapses into silence, staring into the space between the trees. He'll need to find some way to get it to broadcast, since there's little to no chance for a successful trip out to retrieve the footage. Now that he's got the option to avoid death, he'd prefer to take it. Too bad the forest's too big and the treetops are too dense to use a single camera to map out the whole thing, but it's not like he can do it on foot, either. Maybe he can use it to do a little investigating. Or maybe nothing he read about has any weight here. Maybe nothing he read about has any weight back home, either.

Jay remembers Sans is next to him with a jolt.

"I mean, if we're trying to figure out what stops people from going past the edges, we're gonna have to see it before it...stops us."

keep the boy distracted

[punful]

Sans actually muses about that for a moment, tapping his chin.

"suppose you could set up...uh, relays or something? or just use the network."

The network seems to work everywhere in Wonderland, except during some events. Setting up relays--and Sans honestly isn't entirely sure what that would mean or entail--might not work out so well. He knows Wonderland doesn't like to be altered.

Jay seems to have spaced out while Sans was lost in thought and Sans blinks at him when he speaks up again.

"i mean, might just be a barrier. though barriers don't usually kill folk...at least the sort i'm familiar with didn't."

Sans has wondered for years what would happen if he tried to teleport through the barrier. He has never tried to find out.

"you think it might be something else?"

Jay might need a distraction, but so does Sans. Talking and having another living person near him is doing wonders for all that growing despair.

keep him out of trouble. well, this trouble, specifically.

[burntvideocassette]

Jay grimaces. "I mean, if I were a memory-eating dimension who wanted to keep people in place, some kind of...electrical-fence-type thing makes sense."

He glances back at Sans, eyes narrow. "Assuming that's what you meant by 'barrier'."

Jay wishes he knew a little more about the tech side of this stuff. He knows the basic science behind how to get certain shots, sure, but he's not sure how to design a steaming system like this. He'd google it, but, surprise-surprise, still no internet. There's still the library, though. Small blessings.