Philip (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
radiopalkiller) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2015-05-15 02:21 pm
radiopalkiller) wrote in entrancelogs2015-05-15 02:21 pm
[OPEN] I can see you stalking like a predator
Who: Philip (radiopalkiller) and YOU
Where:The Shelter The Archaic's secret underground research station in Greenland the more arctic parts of Denmark
When: 05/15 - 05/18
Rating: R for references to violence, death, gruesome murder of electronic devices, and a general abundance of disturbing imagery
Summary: Oh, and another symptom is déjà vu.
The Story:
05/15 - Day 1, The Kennels
A fever spiked in the blink of an eye, red-tinted corridors blurred and shaking. Legs stiff from the cold, despite everything. He can only take so many steps before tripping. Shards of glass litter the ground where he falls, their edges breaking skin. One buries itself deep, and he pulls it out slick and wet and green. He keeps running, faster, faster, but they close in from all directions. Their torches burning his eyes, and he stumbles into the corridors where the light has already died. The turns and corners go on forever, but he can't. Steps from ice to lead to a crawl that can't outrun them anymore. His heart has skipped too many beats already, but around the next corner the corridor narrows narrows narrows and ends in a door. His fists beat against the metal, his fingers dig into the gap. They round the last corner already. He stumbles to the control panel on the right, hoarse relief. The keycard, the hand, the head. His backpack is soaked in blood. The panel reads: "VOICE LOCK ACTIVE. SAY 'OPEN' TO PROCEED". They growl at his back. He--
It almost feels like waking up. Must be the sort of persistent nightmare that only lets you go piece by piece, and tries to trick you by claiming it has ended. It feels a lot like waking up, admittedly, but it's hardly a very good ruse, otherwise - obviously - Philip would be back on the couch in his room, not lying on straw next to a pile of dead dogs. So how is this part supposed to go? Did he become Frisk in the end? Green-blooded thing that can't even talk like a human being anymore, that growls and claws its way through the darkness? And did he tear apart those dogs, is that the implication? He slides his tongue across both rows of teeth, and swallows. It doesn't come back copper and salt. The stench down here is unreal, even in dreams. Philip shivers as he drags himself to his feet. Won't be the cold what gets you...
May 2001, that's when he got here. May... something else, that must be the anniversary celebration. He walks down the hallways, around the corners he knows. His steps crunch on the straw, and echo across the concrete. It's just as he remembers, only... quieter. Too quiet. Humming lights, but no growls, no whispers, no-- 'Some dream, huh, monkey?' That. He reaches the kennel's main hall. Empty huts, no cadavers. A dark corridor to the far right, and he remembers--
He runs frantically as fast as his feet can carry him, leaping between circles of light like rotten planks on a crumbling bridge. The bulbs shatter as he passes underneath, and the snarl at his back draws closer. He jumps the last stretch, and stumbles out into the light. He sucks in relief with each sharp breath. Then he opens his eyes and wakes up in Wonderland. He lies on his bed, his room is bright. The zoetrope on his shelf throws a long shadow. Glass shatters in the corner, and darkness spills into the room. Something growls hungrily where Philip can't see it. It's not Faraday. He jumps up from the bed, and runs out into the corridor. The door slams shut just as his room goes dark. The stairs are too far away, but the candles never go out, do they? The growling rings in his ears. The candles go out. The darkness closes in from both sides.
It's... not a dream at all, is it? Philip's fingers lace with the torn wire fence, and its mesh bears his weight in grudging rattles. Now what? They never followed him down into the kennels, and it's not for the first time he wonders if that was Frisk's work as well. Like them, and yet not quite like them, something savage that refused to connect to the rest. He brushes the rest of that thought exercise off, and tears an empty page out of his notebook. Still with him, that one, always still with him. 'STAY IN THE LIGHT,' he writes across the page. Sure, could be nobody else is here. Could be that nothing like Frisk is. Still, figures somebody might thank him that he doesn't take the chance.
Philip ties the paper to the fence with one of its wires. Then he lets the door slide open, and takes off running up the stairs.
05/15 - Day 1, Outside
At least that part of the way is straightforward. He'll remember the twists and turns later. Now only his speeding pace is nostalgia, covered in repulsion. Once or twice he catches glimpses of movement down another corridor, but he doesn't slow down. This time he doesn't stop at her door either. He keeps running, until the final door gives way, and he spills out into the snow, propelled by the sort of urgency that negates coordination and grace. He'll take the clean snow over bloodied straw any day. The wind howls icy all around him. It's... not quite as cold as he remembers, but he can already feel his fingers stiffen. Might be it'll still kill him just the same. And for a second Philip is tempted not to get up at all.
At the very least, though, he ought to see how far it goes. Shakes the snow off of his clothes as he gets up. Could he walk back to the library? Would he find-- Just a few steps in, and he finds the bridge gone already. No abyss to split the ground either. No wooden shack for temporary comfort. Just ice and snow and a seamless mass of white nothingness. His feet come to a crunching halt in the snow. It's not quite the core. It's good enough.
Philip closes his eyes, and counts how long he can stand it.
05/15 - Day 1, Research Facility
He has the notebook, but not his communication device. He has his gun, still hanging on his belt. That Philip almost can't believe. First guess is that it'll jam the second he actually needs it. Until then it's at least something. Can't help that bit of hope from crawling in. Maybe now he can finally shoot the sh--
Her door opens too easily. No keycard required this time around, apparently. Something in him was hoping it would just stay locked, that much he realises quickly. Philip enters the room, anyway. It's barely a few steps to the loading area, but the weight of dread may as well be a mountain on his shoulders. He walks through the door slowly, and feels hollow at the sight: The grating on the floor is clean and empty, the metal crate hovers lonely above his head. Like nothing ever happened here.
'I'm sorry,' he mouths, and lets himself sink down to the floor, back pressed against the heavy shelves.
05/16 - Day 2,Examination Area Le Grand Guignol
The warmth is the first thing he feels. The incredulous breaths of laughter in his throat are the second. Of all the places he made himself revisit this was without a doubt the one he dreaded the most. The others were steps on a painful journey, but here, here the room was supposed to be fraught with something worse. A sense of finality lurking in every corner, reminding him that he ought to lie bleeding on the floor.
Instead-- Instead, what, this thing? This thing has the audacity to bury into the core of his memories, to infest them like weeds that scatter their twisting stalks across flowerbeds, and crack through elaborate stone paths in the middle, and for the love of god, whoever is responsible for this ridiculous farce Philip--
Philip disappears into the nearest seat, and his sigh of relief has never been louder, he doesn't know whose fault this is, he doesn't care, but he's going to kiss them on the mouth, Jesus Christ, he's never been so relieved to be anywhere but out there, fuck, he can pretended it's catharsis all he wants, he's been silently screaming for hours, all he really wants is out, out and never back for seconds, for as long as he lives, still lives and keeps living in Wonderland, which is already negative so many months, since the end of his journey in his hellhole.
He sits up a little straighter, looking at the empty stage with a smile. Who needs a spa weekend when you've got this? This place, which... quietly raises more than a few questions, but those answers don't call out to him with any sense of urgency, and for now he's perfectly happy to just... just not go back out there anytime soon.
05/17 - Day 3, Research Facility
Philip sweeps the computer off its desk, and watches the screen crack on the floor. It won't do. He brings the metal pipe down, until the casing is dented and bust, until cables and chips and wires are scattered across the floor in pieces. That will do.
He thought it was guilt at first, that drove him back out of the theatre and into his personal hell. That something else was coming, and he couldn't just hide away with all his knowledge, while the others struggled on outside. But he was wrong. It wasn't something, it was somebody. Not just coming, but coming for him. Outraged at the entire facility, the same way he had been overjoyed at his out-of-place respite. They'd look for somebody to blame, and they'd find it in him. Find out, that's what they would.
This is your fault, you weren't supposed to make it out. You were supposed to die here. This time you have to die here.
Philip steps over the ruins of his work. The document might've been on there still, they might have suspected. He couldn't take the chance. He wraps his fingers tighter around the metal pipe. He'll... he'll use it to barricade the door. Sit things out. He knows the place better, they won't get to him. He'll make it out this t-- He'll make it out again.
05/?? - Day ?, ?????
[ OPEN TO ALL, WRITE YOUR OWN STARTER, WILL MATCH FORMAT!
Philip will spend day one and the first half of day two all around the facility, anywhere except the examination room opera. He will spend the second half of day two exclusively in the examination room opera. He will leave it sometime at the beginning of day three, and spend most of the rest of that day locked in a part of the research room, though you may catch him outside gathering supplies or checking for other things. Day four will likely start in the research room, but the rest is still a mystery (and up for plotting grabs!)
NOTE: Philip will be mostly fine on day 1 and 2, become more wary and hostile as day 3 goes on, and will be extremely suspicious towards anybody on day 4. He will not outright attack anybody on sight, but he can provide both fights and death for your character if you are interested. If either is where you would like their thread to go, please drop me a quick OOC note about it in your comment.
(PS.: You are welcome to injure Philip, but unfortunately he is not available for being killed this time around. Also check out his telepathy info post if you haven't seen it already!) ]
radiopalkiller) and YOUWhere:
When: 05/15 - 05/18
Rating: R for references to violence, death, gruesome murder of electronic devices, and a general abundance of disturbing imagery
Summary: Oh, and another symptom is déjà vu.
The Story:
05/15 - Day 1, The Kennels
A fever spiked in the blink of an eye, red-tinted corridors blurred and shaking. Legs stiff from the cold, despite everything. He can only take so many steps before tripping. Shards of glass litter the ground where he falls, their edges breaking skin. One buries itself deep, and he pulls it out slick and wet and green. He keeps running, faster, faster, but they close in from all directions. Their torches burning his eyes, and he stumbles into the corridors where the light has already died. The turns and corners go on forever, but he can't. Steps from ice to lead to a crawl that can't outrun them anymore. His heart has skipped too many beats already, but around the next corner the corridor narrows narrows narrows and ends in a door. His fists beat against the metal, his fingers dig into the gap. They round the last corner already. He stumbles to the control panel on the right, hoarse relief. The keycard, the hand, the head. His backpack is soaked in blood. The panel reads: "VOICE LOCK ACTIVE. SAY 'OPEN' TO PROCEED". They growl at his back. He--
It almost feels like waking up. Must be the sort of persistent nightmare that only lets you go piece by piece, and tries to trick you by claiming it has ended. It feels a lot like waking up, admittedly, but it's hardly a very good ruse, otherwise - obviously - Philip would be back on the couch in his room, not lying on straw next to a pile of dead dogs. So how is this part supposed to go? Did he become Frisk in the end? Green-blooded thing that can't even talk like a human being anymore, that growls and claws its way through the darkness? And did he tear apart those dogs, is that the implication? He slides his tongue across both rows of teeth, and swallows. It doesn't come back copper and salt. The stench down here is unreal, even in dreams. Philip shivers as he drags himself to his feet. Won't be the cold what gets you...
May 2001, that's when he got here. May... something else, that must be the anniversary celebration. He walks down the hallways, around the corners he knows. His steps crunch on the straw, and echo across the concrete. It's just as he remembers, only... quieter. Too quiet. Humming lights, but no growls, no whispers, no-- 'Some dream, huh, monkey?' That. He reaches the kennel's main hall. Empty huts, no cadavers. A dark corridor to the far right, and he remembers--
He runs frantically as fast as his feet can carry him, leaping between circles of light like rotten planks on a crumbling bridge. The bulbs shatter as he passes underneath, and the snarl at his back draws closer. He jumps the last stretch, and stumbles out into the light. He sucks in relief with each sharp breath. Then he opens his eyes and wakes up in Wonderland. He lies on his bed, his room is bright. The zoetrope on his shelf throws a long shadow. Glass shatters in the corner, and darkness spills into the room. Something growls hungrily where Philip can't see it. It's not Faraday. He jumps up from the bed, and runs out into the corridor. The door slams shut just as his room goes dark. The stairs are too far away, but the candles never go out, do they? The growling rings in his ears. The candles go out. The darkness closes in from both sides.
It's... not a dream at all, is it? Philip's fingers lace with the torn wire fence, and its mesh bears his weight in grudging rattles. Now what? They never followed him down into the kennels, and it's not for the first time he wonders if that was Frisk's work as well. Like them, and yet not quite like them, something savage that refused to connect to the rest. He brushes the rest of that thought exercise off, and tears an empty page out of his notebook. Still with him, that one, always still with him. 'STAY IN THE LIGHT,' he writes across the page. Sure, could be nobody else is here. Could be that nothing like Frisk is. Still, figures somebody might thank him that he doesn't take the chance.
Philip ties the paper to the fence with one of its wires. Then he lets the door slide open, and takes off running up the stairs.
05/15 - Day 1, Outside
At least that part of the way is straightforward. He'll remember the twists and turns later. Now only his speeding pace is nostalgia, covered in repulsion. Once or twice he catches glimpses of movement down another corridor, but he doesn't slow down. This time he doesn't stop at her door either. He keeps running, until the final door gives way, and he spills out into the snow, propelled by the sort of urgency that negates coordination and grace. He'll take the clean snow over bloodied straw any day. The wind howls icy all around him. It's... not quite as cold as he remembers, but he can already feel his fingers stiffen. Might be it'll still kill him just the same. And for a second Philip is tempted not to get up at all.
At the very least, though, he ought to see how far it goes. Shakes the snow off of his clothes as he gets up. Could he walk back to the library? Would he find-- Just a few steps in, and he finds the bridge gone already. No abyss to split the ground either. No wooden shack for temporary comfort. Just ice and snow and a seamless mass of white nothingness. His feet come to a crunching halt in the snow. It's not quite the core. It's good enough.
Philip closes his eyes, and counts how long he can stand it.
05/15 - Day 1, Research Facility
He has the notebook, but not his communication device. He has his gun, still hanging on his belt. That Philip almost can't believe. First guess is that it'll jam the second he actually needs it. Until then it's at least something. Can't help that bit of hope from crawling in. Maybe now he can finally shoot the sh--
Her door opens too easily. No keycard required this time around, apparently. Something in him was hoping it would just stay locked, that much he realises quickly. Philip enters the room, anyway. It's barely a few steps to the loading area, but the weight of dread may as well be a mountain on his shoulders. He walks through the door slowly, and feels hollow at the sight: The grating on the floor is clean and empty, the metal crate hovers lonely above his head. Like nothing ever happened here.
'I'm sorry,' he mouths, and lets himself sink down to the floor, back pressed against the heavy shelves.
05/16 - Day 2,
The warmth is the first thing he feels. The incredulous breaths of laughter in his throat are the second. Of all the places he made himself revisit this was without a doubt the one he dreaded the most. The others were steps on a painful journey, but here, here the room was supposed to be fraught with something worse. A sense of finality lurking in every corner, reminding him that he ought to lie bleeding on the floor.
Instead-- Instead, what, this thing? This thing has the audacity to bury into the core of his memories, to infest them like weeds that scatter their twisting stalks across flowerbeds, and crack through elaborate stone paths in the middle, and for the love of god, whoever is responsible for this ridiculous farce Philip--
Philip disappears into the nearest seat, and his sigh of relief has never been louder, he doesn't know whose fault this is, he doesn't care, but he's going to kiss them on the mouth, Jesus Christ, he's never been so relieved to be anywhere but out there, fuck, he can pretended it's catharsis all he wants, he's been silently screaming for hours, all he really wants is out, out and never back for seconds, for as long as he lives, still lives and keeps living in Wonderland, which is already negative so many months, since the end of his journey in his hellhole.
He sits up a little straighter, looking at the empty stage with a smile. Who needs a spa weekend when you've got this? This place, which... quietly raises more than a few questions, but those answers don't call out to him with any sense of urgency, and for now he's perfectly happy to just... just not go back out there anytime soon.
05/17 - Day 3, Research Facility
Philip sweeps the computer off its desk, and watches the screen crack on the floor. It won't do. He brings the metal pipe down, until the casing is dented and bust, until cables and chips and wires are scattered across the floor in pieces. That will do.
He thought it was guilt at first, that drove him back out of the theatre and into his personal hell. That something else was coming, and he couldn't just hide away with all his knowledge, while the others struggled on outside. But he was wrong. It wasn't something, it was somebody. Not just coming, but coming for him. Outraged at the entire facility, the same way he had been overjoyed at his out-of-place respite. They'd look for somebody to blame, and they'd find it in him. Find out, that's what they would.
This is your fault, you weren't supposed to make it out. You were supposed to die here. This time you have to die here.
Philip steps over the ruins of his work. The document might've been on there still, they might have suspected. He couldn't take the chance. He wraps his fingers tighter around the metal pipe. He'll... he'll use it to barricade the door. Sit things out. He knows the place better, they won't get to him. He'll make it out this t-- He'll make it out again.
05/?? - Day ?, ?????
[ OPEN TO ALL, WRITE YOUR OWN STARTER, WILL MATCH FORMAT!
Philip will spend day one and the first half of day two all around the facility, anywhere except the examination room opera. He will spend the second half of day two exclusively in the examination room opera. He will leave it sometime at the beginning of day three, and spend most of the rest of that day locked in a part of the research room, though you may catch him outside gathering supplies or checking for other things. Day four will likely start in the research room, but the rest is still a mystery (and up for plotting grabs!)
NOTE: Philip will be mostly fine on day 1 and 2, become more wary and hostile as day 3 goes on, and will be extremely suspicious towards anybody on day 4. He will not outright attack anybody on sight, but he can provide both fights and death for your character if you are interested. If either is where you would like their thread to go, please drop me a quick OOC note about it in your comment.
(PS.: You are welcome to injure Philip, but unfortunately he is not available for being killed this time around. Also check out his telepathy info post if you haven't seen it already!) ]