letsplayamurder

Entry tags:

intro log,
week 1

Arrival

The moment is a bit different for everyone. Perhaps you were just minding your own business somewhere, others may have been in more... dire circumstances. Regardless, you were approached by a figure you can't quite picture, and they offered you an accord; in exchange for aiding them in the healing of a world lost to chaos, you would be granted something almost unheard of. Godhood.

And each of you said yes, more or less.

A blurry hand, shifting and rippling, reaches out to you. You feel a glow of warmth, unlike anything you've known before. As soon as you think you can describe it, you wake up.

The room you're in is plainly furnished, but it's about the size of a small flat. Plenty of room to stretch your legs. Don't get too comfortable, however. On the bedside table each room has is a letter; handwritten, it's wrapped around a bronze key. The lettering could only be described as the platonic ideal of 'neat and precise'.

If you are reading this, than our deal has been made. You've awoken in a place that will surely feel strange, so I want you to take some time to acclimate. Meet with the others. Breathe. I shall be along shortly.

-A

Whatever that means becomes more apparent as you step out of your housing and behold the world around you. The building you were in, and every piece of architecture you happen across, is blatantly pre-modern. Yet, something about it is otherworldly. Stone and iron and glass as far as the eye can see.

But above you was where the real questions were. It wouldn't be right to say the sun was shining on you now, nor would it be right to say it's the dead of night. Instead, the sky is a hazy mixture of both, wrapped in suffocating storm clouds that are threatening rain. Everywhere you look, into the horizon, it's the same.

Welcome home. Take your time and explore. Nobody ever said godhood was easy.

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[ Alex does not know who Wendy is. Why would he? His eyes do pass over her profile and he tenses—but he's already a bundle of nerves and actively trying not to freak anyone else out. So though he sees cheated death he clamps down on the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

...Anyway, he's not like. Striking up a conversation, exactly? So. What other mumbles has Wendy got? ]

[She’s ruminating over something before she glances in his direction. Her eyes go wide. The color draining out of her face in an instant. She glances at the statues, looking at the profiles.

Recognition. Fear. Panic. For a stranger, it must seem very odd but there’s something that she mouths that he can tell.

Alex.]

[ He can feel her eyes on him before he sees her, but he returns her gaze after a moment. She looks scared. She looks panicked. On instinct, Alex raises a hand to the right side of his head, as if expecting something different than just...hair, skin.

It's fine. He's fine.

Warily: ]

What? I got something on my face?

[ Is...... Did she just mouth his name? ...No, it's right there. It's right there on the profile. ]

No... you... don't.

[But you should. It's on the tip of her tongue but she can't say it. She swallows hard.]

You--You're Alex Browning. You... you can't be here.

[You're dead.]

[ It's like the bottom of his stomach drops out. Like he's going down a big drop on a roller coaster. Like...

Like he's back in that cold, dark place.

He regards her with steely eyes and a thin line for a mouth. In a voice so quiet, to avoid attracting attention, he asks, ]

How do you know who I am?

[ It's grave, raspy, defeated.

It isn't a large leap, to wonder. He can only imagine the media coverage it received. The wack-job crazy kid, gone like the rest of them.

Is this girl like them? One of those people, the ones who called his parents begging for an interview about his dead friends? ]

[Her eyes lower. She doesn’t know what he went through with the public. No one thought of that with her. It wasn’t the first time in her life she had been so anxious that she had ‘acted up’ in public but that had been when she was younger, when there was no true danger. An anxious girl who disliked roller coasters saying one which had numerous obvious safety hazards and complaints as the Devil’s Flight was going to crash? It was written up as a coincidence, that she was going to have a breakdown no matter the outcome of the ride. That the ride was going to crash eventually. Two things that would happen either way and just happened in the same day. It was barely mentioned in the reports. A blurb about a hysterical teenage girl.

And people wondered why she hated the town after the crash. Yet it was because of him that she at least had a chance.]

May 27, 2005. McKinley, Pennsylvania. There was a fair and because it was so close to graduation they had a Grad Night at the fair. Paid for admission, rides, food and games for seniors within reason. It was a hit except—the rollercoaster had a deadly accident. Seven students died.

[She looks up. Her voice low and measured.]

Ten more people were supposed to die in that crash. Someone panicked and was taken away. More left annoyed.

[She looks Alex straight in the eye.]

I saw it happen, just like you saw Flight 180 explode. I was the one who panicked. I know who you are because weeks after that accident I realized what happened then was happening again. I cheated Death and He was mad as hell.

[ Naturally, Alex is guarded. He wants to hope. He doesn't want to write everyone off, like they'd written him off. But time and time again, it wears you down. Few people have believed him—and even fewer have believed him and lived.

So as she begins to explain, a tale from a time beyond his, a time when he should have been in college, finishing up his degree in whatever-the-fuck (it didn't matter anymore, after Paris)—he watches her with cold eyes. Guarded.

Until— ]

I-it happened again? [ Of course it did. Why would he be the only one? Why would he, goddamn normal kid Alex Browning, be the only...psychic or clairvoyant or visionary or whatever the fuck you wanted to call it.

No. No the more important question— ]

It happened to you?

[ It snaps into place like a particularly horrific puzzle.

Of course she would know, then.

Alex, after all, is an example of failure. ]

[It’s like swallowing water that’s too cold. The words burn in her throat. She remembers every person who got off that stupid ride. Every single one of them either wrote her off, hated her, or believed her too late. Kevin and Julie did but only after so much had happened. She can only imagine what Alex had gone through—had he begged them to listen? Or had he turned his back? She doesn’t know.

But she knows his guarded eyes. The way he doesn’t believe until she proved her reasons. You always want to hope but it’s so, so damn hard.]

It did. I thought it was the worst night of my life—that I could just go… but then two girls died when their tanning beds caught fire. That’s when I decided to try to find out as much as I could about Flight 180…and about you.

[She winces.]

That sounds like I’m a stalker, shit.

[ It's funny, though, when she winces, he...winces in turn.

Alex raises his head to look around for anyone else that may be around. And then, he gestures to Wendy to follow him. ]

...Come on. Too many people around here. Let's... Somewhere with a little more privacy. Yeah?

Right, yeah.

[Ugh, get it together, girl. You’re losing control. She nods. Right. Right…]

Sorry, that’s… not like me. Let’s go somewhere else.

[ Alex shakes his head lightly as they start walking. He leads them in the direction of the cliffs. Though he hasn't really explored it yet, he's wandering towards the garden. ]

It's okay. I don't think... I know I didn't expect to meet anyone like me. Imagine you didn't either.

[ In contrast to that guarded boy, beaten down and bitter, Alex's words come out soft-spoken and gentle now. Even a little apologetic. ]

You don't sound like a stalker. If I coulda found...anything, any other...fucking visionary, I would've clicked my damn heels together like I was fucking Dorothy, alright, I...

[ He lets out a breath. He sounds tired. ]

...I get it.

Did...anything I did...help?

That's right. I saw things online but I didn't really go looking.

[She had conflicting reports on whether Kimberly was alive or not and honestly she didn't really think trying to call someone and ask how she cheated death was a good idea. She sighs as she walks.]

...It did and it didn't. Knowing that Death can skip over people was helpful but--in the end there were just three out of us. Out of ten. No one really believed me until it was too late.

[ Alex lets out a heavy, shuddering breath. ]

I'm sorry. [ It's spoken with understanding. The others looked at him as if he made the plane explode. At first, only Clear defended him...and even she doubted, when they started digging together. Would Tod have believed him? If he hadn't been... Alex doesn't know. He'll never know.

It hangs over him, heavy. ]

...Did you beat it?

I was alive when I got the offer but...

[She takes a deep breath. If Kevin and Julie were alive then she would be. That makes sense but... things weren't adding up.]

I saw the number of the subway train I was on. 081. There were other things too--the stupid busker, the ads--

[She took a deep breath. It didn't matter. She wasn't on the train now.] I thought I felt wind. In a subway car! I... just wanted out of there.

[ 081. o81. 180. Alex's blood runs cold. ]

You felt like it was after you. You saw an opportunity, and you took it. Were you the last one?

...No. I knew I should have been fine...and it was so selfish but I just. It felt wrong.

[She left Kevin. She left Julie... her heart twists into knots. She hates it.]

It was like Death was right there... I panicked.

You weren't next... [ But, his face crumples with understanding. ] These were the first ones you'd seen in awhile, weren't they? You thought...you were safe.

I was the last to die in my vision. [Some nights she feels like she's still falling off to the railing below.] Five months. It waited five months. It was Thanksgiving...!

[ He lets out a scoff, not directed at Wendy, but— ] The fucker. Mine was six.

[Yeah. She knows. She nods.] He's a real bastard.

[ ... ]

...You...shit, you're really just like me.

[ He can't believe it. ]

I never thought I'd meet someone else who...

Honestly? Me, too... I thought... everyone else who could have had similar stuff was dead.

[Alex was obviously dead. Kimberly? Who knew. There were some weird reports from other places but she wasn't sure.]

[ ...Were there others? He wants to ask, but he also doesn't. Because by default, if she knows, they didn't make it out. ]

Well... You know I was. ...Death's not gonna be too happy about that. To find me gone.

[ What does that mean for Clear? ]

[...the internet is a blessing and a curse.]

...Yeah. I guess--Death wants us to stay dead.

[Hm... nope.]

...If...if it looks like it's coming for me...

[ Alex lets out a resigned breath. ]

Don't get too close. Okay? I don't trust it to...worry about collateral. 'Specially if it's already after you too.

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Arrival

profiles

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cw ableism? casual ableism? the public perception of psychics type of ableism

cw: talk of anxiety attacks, possible ableism and sexism

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