entrancelogs | VALENTINE'S DAY CATCH ALL 12th-17th

VALENTINE'S DAY CATCH ALL 12th-17th

Who: Anyone and everyone who wants to participate
Where: Literally every corner of the known universe
When: Again with the questions...
Rating: BIG BIG HORRIBLE WARNING LOTS OF DEATH AND FIGHTING AND GRAPHIC EVERYTHING I think you might need an adult...
Summary:

THIS IS A CATCH ALL LOG FOR THE DURATION OF THIS SITUATION

Here's what happens. If you want interaction with HARRY OR TOM, if you want to have a short thread with someone discovering a BODY or someone who is WOUNDED or generally just want some blood and guts it happens in here.

THAT BEING SAID if you want to write a log? Do it. I'm just trying to control the madness in one place...as if that might be easier to manage. It also means the community isn't TOO flooded with bodies and boxes of chocolate so those wanting to bypass this event will have less to look at.

IF YOU ARE A VICTIM, YOU MAY POST YOUR DEATH POST IN HERE
I mean, you can if you want but also feel free to make an independent post. Up to you.

Comment in with a header including date and place for whatever situation you're doing so we can just keep track. I'll do the same.

Questions, comments, plurk or aim or pm me. x

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Clearly there is a large culture divide here. America lost all sympathy for the killer when he ripped his precious valentine out of his hand and shoved it where his real heart should be. It was a private message he'd spent months agonizing over, trying to refine his raw feelings into actual words he could share, and just when he manages to lay his thoughts down in careful patchwork sentences with a nice lace trim, some asshole violated the private space he'd crafted with his sick sense of humor. He made America's valentine the punchline to a twisted joke and stained the lace with his blood.

Just thinking about it makes him angry enough to tremble. His hands shake as he furiously types his next message:

I DONT CARE HE RUINED EVERYTHING HE IS A FUCKING PLAGUE YOU DONT UNDERSTND THERE IS NOTHING MORE FOR ME TO LOSE

It's not just the glasses, which on their own signify the his victory annexing Texas at the expense of his eyesight and countless men. It's not even just the murder of Martha and other innocents. It's that, on top of all these things, this killer is clearly having fun with it.

Whoever it is, America wants them to feel fear. He wants the killer to fear him. Bullheaded doesn't begin to cover it.

BEHIND THAT MASK HE IS SMILING AND I WANT IT TO STOP

Agitation builds with each passing thought. The relief and joy of seeing Martha so well is crumbling under the weight of his fury.

"Room in the back's open," he suggests, peering at the door. "It ain't locked."

He's at something of a loss here, really; back home... Back home she'd already be in the ground and sporting an extra hole in the head...

That's not the way here, though.

No, he wasn't ever looking to gain that information from anyone. What a lovely conversation that would have been: 'Oh, hello, my name's the Doctor. Do you fancy telling me just who's been killed or injured? Thank you.' It sounds ridiculous even thinking about it.

But he nods fervently, even though he frowns a bit, because he's not just a guard dog. Though he supposes it fits. "Of course. I'm not about to leave you here on your own." He might be a beanpole, but he's determined enough to do what he has to in order to look out for Martha.

But he goes back to thinking about the run-in in the tunnels. "I don't, really. He was already fighting when I turned up, and he might not have made it out alive if I hadn't shown up when I did." Although in hindsight, he wasn't a great deal of use. He just provided a good distraction, however, and in the end, it helped get them out of what was obviously a sticky situation.

"He ran off somewhere before we got to the clinic."

It's not about a culture divide so much as a different set of morals. Martha happens to be the sort of person who, even after someone's killed her, still wants to do things the right way, which is by locking the offender up instead of killing them. Bloodshed begetting more bloodshed? It doesn't make sense to her, and it never will.

They need to be the bigger people.

But America's rage is only barely contained. She can see that in the way that he's shaking, in the tenseness around his shoulders, and it worries her. He's going to get himself in trouble if he's not careful.

Then again, as he said, what else is there left to lose? This is someone who's unstable at best, who's got suicidal tendencies, so is it any surprise that he'd toss himself head first (literally) into a dangerous situation?

"I'm not saying he shouldn't be stopped. But we should lock him up. Even if you kill him, he's just going to come back. It's not worth it."

Is she going to be able to convince him? Probably not. But at least she'll have said her piece.

The fact that the Doctor responds to her teasing with complete seriousness makes it even more clear that he's been worried about her, and that he's not going to stop worrying until this has been resolved.

Martha can hardly blame him. Had their situations been reversed, it would be the same thing. She doesn't want to be left alone here anyway, so she's fine with his presence. She does want to arm herself, though, and she can't do that when the Doctor is here. She'll receive all manner of judgment the moment that he sees her with a gun, even though she thinks it's appropriate to have one in this case.

His explanation of what happened to Philip causes her to sigh and lean against one of the counters. Now why would someone run away from the clinic when injured? It makes no sense.

"Well, I hope he makes his way here eventually." There isn't any way for her to track him down, not when she doesn't know who he is.

Well, if she hadn't been murdered and left there with a ridiculous pill bottle of candy hearts where her own heart had once been, maybe he wouldn't be so serious. But it grates on him, that someone would do that to her.

It's not something he wants to see again, and more specifically, it's not something he wants to see her go through again.

So, he'll stand outside until it's clear the danger's passed and no one else is in danger of losing their lives, if that's what it takes.

"I haven't a clue. He looked like he had somewhere he wanted to be, but I can't think where that could have been." For someone who was as roughed up as Philip had been, the only place for him should have been the clinic. But he'd practically shoved the Doctor at Amy before bolting off to who-knows-where.

"Let's hope he's still alive." He lets that slip a bit on accident, because why remind Martha of what's happened to her? As if she does need reminding. But what if he ran off for another go at the killer? The Doctor shakes his head, knowing it's pointless to think about. Maybe Philip just went to his room or somewhere else and didn't go off to do something foolish.

"Anyway, Martha, do you need a hand with anything here?" He's not the best at cleaning up, never having been good at domestics, but he'll try if she wants him to.

At his words, she recognizes the feelings of her Doctor. The need to make everything better, the ridiculous amount of responsibility he feels every time anything goes wrong. And all the affection, all the pain of missing her best friend wells up inside of her. She stands next to him, carefully looking at his face.

"You can't be everywhere at once, Doctor. Especially not here. Sometimes everything's good and there's nothing you can do but keep an eye on things. Other times, things sneak up on us until it's too late to do anything but try to keep those who haven't been harmed safe. I know it must be difficult to see Martha like this, but you mustn't blame yourself. She wouldn't want that."

He forces himself to look away from Martha and focus on Amy's face, because if he looks at her for even one more minute, he knows he won't be able to control in the anger that's threatening to spill over. There's no one to direct it towards, not right now, and he'd rather not have Amy get caught up in that mess.

"Do you know, Amy, what I'm thinking right now?" It's an odd question; of course she doesn't. She's never traveled with him, never even met him before today. But he feels like, maybe, if this weren't Wonderland, if they weren't trapped, he'd offer to take her along with him. Don't ask him why he feels that way, but there is something about her that makes him think she'd be a great person to have along.

"I'm thinking about her mother and how terribly angry she'd be with me for allowing this to happen." Martha's mother never seemed to like him that much anyway, and if she knew about this (thankfully the chances of that are slim), she'd most likely have his head on a platter. "It doesn't matter that I can't be everywhere. I should have been here, and I wasn't."

And yes, he is blaming himself, even though he knows Martha would hate him for it. She'd probably slap him for it, too, but he can't help it.

He did fail her, and he failed her family. But, in the midst of all his blaming, one thing registers in his mind. Those who are still alive and not hurt need to be protected, and that is something he can try to do.

"You are right about one thing, though. There are still things that I can do here, even if I can't do them for Martha."

The sad thing is that Martha doesn't even know about the pill bottle. It's something that had been cleaned up and set aside before she revived, and no one's told her. If someone had, she might start to get at least a sense of who's behind these murders.

As things stand, though, she's just as clueless as everyone else.

"Seems like the clinic should have been his top priority, yeah..." Martha realizes that plenty of the people here aren't as careful about their health as they should be, though. She isn't that surprised, but she does hope Philip shows himself here sooner rather than later, or at least finds someone else to heal him.

"Yes, let's hope." There don't need to be more casualties, but Martha wishes she could actually see that they didn't happen. As things stand, all she can do is wait for people to come here for medical attention.

At the Doctor's offer, she turns to face him more directly and nods. "Let's get the beds ready and put some supplies out." She'll most definitely put the Doctor to use if she can, even if menial labor has never been his strong suit. In her case, at least it will take her mind off of what happened to her.

[Harry snorts and takes the beating, the flurry of fists, the angry cries, because it's exactly what he wants.

More specifically, Jo that close to him is exactly what he wants, and look. It's paid off.]

You stupid bitch, [He snarls and grabs her, one hand winding into her long hair, the other going for her throat.

He pushes them back until he can press her up against something solid and leans right in, expression hard but his eyes are glassy and dark - a handful of hazel tones shining brightly as though he were in a fever.]

You don't get to tell me anything.

[They're so close he could kiss her if he wanted.]

But let me tell you something..hm? This whole thing? You two? It ain't gonna happen, sister, and here's why. You will never be good enough.

You will never be what he needs.

And Tommy here? You will never save him.

[She bites back the urge to cry out as he grabs her by her hair, stifling it and swallowing it down as he shoves her against the wall and she feels his hand close around her throat. It's not enough to cut off her ability to breath, but close. Close enough.

She stares back at him defiantly, those eyes full of malice and nothing even vaguely reminiscent of Tom. There's nothing of him in there now, just Harry -- not a demon, not something she can exorcise out of him, just -- part of him in a way she can't fathom.

No matter how many times she tells herself it can't be real, it is.]

Maybe I won't be what he needs.

[She almost spits the words themselves, venomous.]

But I can still save him. That's what I do.

[And just for emphasis, she sharply brings her knee up to bury it in his groin as she tries to pull herself free, teeth grit.]

"Might be the best place for her."

Out of sight, where people can't drop by the clinic and gawk at her -- and she'll want privacy when she wakes up. It'll happen sooner or later. It always does. That doesn't make what's been done okay.

"Can you help me move her?"

He's clearly not bothered by blood. No reason to be shy about asking.

"Yeah--" He moves over to Martha's body, hooks his arms under hers without so much as a flinch. "Think the door pushes open."

He's trying not to look at her face, but it's not out of any kind of horror; he's afraid of what'd happen if he lets himself get angry about it again, if he lets his temper get the better of him...

It's for the best that he not think too hard on it just yet.

"The fact that it wasn't makes me think there was something else on his mind. Can't say I know what that was, or is, but there you go." It's not exactly a relief, because even though the clinic might be safe for the moment, there's still the rest of the mansion and its residents to be concerned for.

He's a little torn about that, about whether he should be out there trying to help people or staying with Martha to give her a hand and whatever support she might need. But he figures he can assist with cleaning up the place a bit and doing whatever other work she thinks is needed, and then after that, he can go out there and have a look around.

"Well, for the moment, Martha, consider me at your disposal." He nods at her and gets ready to get to work. With two of them on the job, they should be able to make some decent headway.

"There's no way you would've." He repeats, because he firmly believes this, and if he can't do anything else, he's going to make sure that Jo doesn't blame herself for something that was his own fault. It's their way, he knows, all of them, to blame themselves for unrelated tragedies that happen to people they're close to.

"I know." And they'll fix it, says his resolved glower. They'll take out whoever's been doing this, whoever hurt all of those people. Sam heaves a sigh, shifting slightly and trying not to wince while doing so.

"Wait, he-- What'd he say?" This is news, and he straightens up suddenly, this time not bothering to mask the grimace of pain. This is important. "I know there was a lot going on then, but if he said something about it..."

Could they have stopped it?

Amy presses her lips together, knowing full well that the Doctor feels the very last ripples of every action. As much as she wants to stay close to the Doctor, knows that there's safely near him, she knows he needs his space. She'll keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble, but being here for him like this...it's too much for both of them.

"You have my number if you need anything. But I think it's best for both of us to think this over. I'll go back to my room and lock the door." And stay in there mostly for the rest of the event. The best she can, at least.

Emma moves to the other end, grimacing as she grab Martha by the legs, doing her best to hold her steady between the two of them. Martha might not be able to feel it, but that doesn't mean she wants to be reckless or disrespectful with the body.

... she hates that she's thinking of it as the body.

She squares her shoulders as she moves backwards, pushing the door open as she goes and giving them both clearance. There's plenty of room to set Martha up comfortably -- assuming she wakes up wherever they put her.

"Here. She'll be out of the way and have some peace, people won't be able to stare and we can get the clinic back in order."

"He didn't tell me enough," Jo says quickly, as if in her own defense. "But he kept saying that something was coming. Something from his world, and it was human. He said the guy would go after him but he didn't mention--"

She cuts herself off and frowns hard, clenching her teeth and steeling herself. Everyone else. He hadn't mentioned everyone else.

"I didn't know how big it would be. All he told me was not to get in this guy's way, not to go after him." She snorts lightly. "Like I'd listen to that. I'd have gone after him a lot sooner if Crowley hadn't put me on lockdown."

Daryl doesn't like thinking about it like that either... But there's no changing the fact that Martha ain't in there anymore, and so he's shutting himself down out of necessity, just like he'd done so many times back home. Now ain't the time.

Nodding at Emma's assessment, he moves to rest Martha down as gently as he can manage, grabbing her arm as it flops over the side of the cot and moving it to rest next to her instead.

"Ain't gonna be long before we got people comin' down here lookin' for help."

And he's already moving for the door back into the main area, not wanting to linger here any longer than he needs to. Out of sight out of mind... Or something.

She follows him out, though not before looking over her shoulder to give Martha one last look on the way. Once they're back to the clinic proper, she closes the door behind her, exhaling slowly as she hears the lock catch. At least Martha will have some privacy, for what it's worth.

"So then what's the plan?" The clinic still needs some cleaning up, but he's done a pretty impressive job so far, especially considering-- well.

Blood wasn't the easiest thing to get up, and given the fact that Martha just been there, she's impressed that he managed to get any of it done at all.

"I'm not great with first aid or medical stuff, but I could at least help you clean up."

Daryl's silent for a few moments, thinking. What is the plan?

He knows what he'd like the plan to be- finish cleaning up here, get the place in workable order before the injured start streaming in... And then go find the asshole that did this and put a stop to it.

...But he knows better than to run off half-cocked when he has no idea what's actually going on. It could be an event, or it could be something else... His crossbow solved most of life's problems back home but that ain't the case here.

"Once the place's back the way it should be I'm gonna stay down here, take a look around. Make sure he don't come back."

Somebody's gotta be responsible for keeping the people who come here for help safe- might as well be him.

She nods stiffly. What else can they do, with no evidence for the untrained eye and no leads? But he's right, someone ought to stay down here. Help people out, make sure the bastard responsible doesn't make his way back.

"I'll help you get things in order," she says again, tersely, "and then do what I can to make sure everyone else is on their game." Even as she speaks, she's pulling out her phone and texting Henry, frowning to herself as she does so. Maybe this was an isolated incident, but they don't know enough of anything to be sure. She's not taking that chance.

Stay inside the room and lock the door. Don't let anyone in. I'll be back soon.

She exhales slowly and moves to right a chair that must have been knocked over in the struggle. "Toss me a brush. I'll get scrubbing."

[Harry snorts a sharp laugh, fingers closing with a brutal strength to crush the words from his throat, but she speaks, forcing it out.

Maybe he should be impressed.

Her movements catch him off guard, however, a blinding pain ripping through his body how dare you, you little slut--

--but it's enough to get him to let go. Even for a second to shuffle back and will his body to breathe. Pathetic as it is, he's still human and jesus that hurt.

[She gasps for breath the moment he releases her, wasting no time in finding her feet and pushing past him, darting to her right to get out of arm's length in case he tried to grab her again. All she had to do was get to the table. Get her gun. Her chest feels impossibly tight as she moved, heart in her throat as she closes her fingers around the cold steel of the barrel, but she hefts that shotgun and turned it towards him, taking several steps back in order to gain distance, her hands shaking.

A part of her knows she'll have to have to pull the trigger. There's no other way out of this.]

Tom, if you're still in there at all, I'm sorry--

[She swallows something down and it sticks at the back of her throat, suddenly painfully aware of her own pulse as she feels her blood thundering past her ears and through her head, adrenaline doing its job to keep her together.

Fuck, she shouldn't have to be apologizing to anyone, but this--

He's not the Tom she knows. Maybe he never was, but that Tom was real enough to her, and he's the one she's apologizing to.]

But I can't-- I can't let him kill me or anyone else.

[It's funny what power a single word can have.

A name. An assigned identifier given to you by your parents at birth. It shapes you, defines you, you grow to suit it and it's meaning.

Thomas, for example, is Irish. It means twin.

Jo rushes away and grabs her gun, turning with the tight panic afforded to her by terror but the easy way in which she grips it speaks of years of hunting.

She shouldn't speak, she shouldn't pause, and yet she does.

She does and she calls him name.

And he hears it.

There is a brief moment where the body of the man she loves does nothing. It lurches half an inch forward before the tension in his shoulders melts along with the snarl at his lips.

It's a tremble that then presents itself. A fracture in his composure allowing Tom to scratch and scream and claw his way back. If only for a moment. But a moment is all he needs.]

Jo-

[Small. He feels so small. He sees Harry all around him, closing in from all directions, his breathing a cacophony of terror ripping down his spine with the unrelenting truth. This is you, Tommy. You.]

I'm so sorry..

[A whine. It feels like slow motion, every particulate illuminated by some stream of indistinguishable light source. His breaths feel long and careful when they are quick heaves jerking from his lungs.]

You've gotta shoot me, shoot now.

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Page 9 of 10

VALENTINE'S DAY CATCH ALL 12th-17th

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Want to wrap things up soon / fade to black?

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Sure, sounds good! Thanks for the thread. <3

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