[They're in the theater. Camille is stretching one of the unused balloons between her fingers. Weird. She's never given thought to how old party technology might be, but the lack of plumbing and electricity leaves her mildly surprised to find real rubber wonders tucked away in here.]
Well, we made it through the night. Think we should celebrate?
[Is it any surprise people are making themselves scarce today?
Camille may not know what's going on but she has, rather uselessly, thrown the old white robes back on and keeps to the fog at the edge of town. She's hoping to blend in with the haze, you see. Also to combat the light-up confessions that have been blinking on and off all day.
One particularly cruel line has sprawled over her shoulder blades, visible through the fog. It runs in the family.
Camille doesn't look wholly uncertain about being on farm property. If anything she's more stepping carefully with her boots. She has little reservation approaching one of the cows, extending a hand to sniff, and rubbing its head with a distant affection.]
[ ashlyn is standing... not right in front of the bulletin board, but nearby, like she looked at it and then backed up to where she is now and hasn't moved since.
she is just anxiously tapping one foot very very fast. ]
It's almost... better we don't find them until the end, with how much chaos it causes. [ EXCEPT IT'S SO STRESSFUL TO NOT KNOW WHERE TO LOOK FOR HOURS STRAIGHT. aaaaaa ]
[They are absolutely minding their own ding dang business, being surly and unsociable as hell, when a void RUDELY and WITHOUT EXPLICIT CONSENT comes to SWALLOW THEM WHOLE.
Alan loosened some cash to enroll Amma at the Bell School—$22,000 a year, not counting books and supplies—just nine blocks away. She made quick friends, a little circle of pretty girls who learned to yearn for all things Missouri. The one I really liked was a girl named Lily Burke. She was as bright as Amma, with a sunnier outlook. She had a spray of freckles, oversized front teeth, and hair the color of chocolate, which Amma pointed out was the exact shade of the rug in my old bedroom. I liked her anyway.
She became a fixture at the apartment, helping me cook dinner, asking me questions about homework, telling stories about boys. Amma got progressively quieter with each of Lily's visits. By October, she'd shut her door pointedly when Lily came by.
One night I woke to find Amma standing over my bed.
"You like Lily better than me," she whispered. She was feverish, her nightgown clinging to her sweaty body, her teeth chattering. I guided her to the bathroom, sat her down on the toilet, wet a washcloth under the cool, metallic water of the sink, wiped her brow. Then we stared at each other. Slate blue eyes just like Adora's. Blank. Like a winter pond.
~*&*~
On October 12, Lily Burke disappeared on her way home from school. Four hours later, her body was found, propped tidily next to a Dumpster three blocks from our apartment. Only six of her teeth had been pulled, the oversized front two and four on the bottom.
I phoned Wind Gap and waited on hold twelve minutes until police confirmed my mother was in her home.
I found it first. I let the police discover it, but I found it first. As Amma trailed me like an angry dog, I tore through the apartment, upending seat cushions, rummaging through drawers. What have you done Amma? By the time I got to her room, she was calm. Smug. I sifted through her panties, dumped out her wish chest, turned over her mattress.
I went through her desk and uncovered only pencils, stickers, and a cup that stank of bleach.
I swept out the contents of the dollhouse room by room, smashing my little four-poster bed, Amma's day bed, the lemon yellow love seat. Once I'd flung out my mother's big brass canopy and destroyed her vanity table, either Amma or I screamed. Maybe both of us did. The floor of my mother's room. The beautiful ivory tiles. Made of human teeth. Fifty-six tiny teeth, cleaned and bleached and shining from the floor.
[ she's probably sitting near the swamp, still decompressing after getting swamp'd. her leg no longer has a hole in it, and the blood at her stomach isn't spreading anymore. but the scratches on her face remain, as do the chain-shaped burn marks.
also unfortunately she does flinch away from the touch.
Something religious? Think it's familiar. [Camille tilts her head at the inscription, looking towards the bisected, desiccated nightmare huddled in the tree.] I hope it's not a prophecy or something. Imagine this guy waking up.
[ ashlyn is actually looking for her too! on the initial arrival i woke up late it was too loud, so she kind of. wandered off at first. but here she is now.
so. hey. ashlyn just walks into her and hugs her. ]
Currently at the Haunted House lying down on Tomi's old bed. She is missing an eye forever now but at least it's mostly healed and bandaged? She rolls over and smiles for Ash, groggily greeting her.]
I feel like it's lashing out. Everyone's hitting their limit.
[Mother we crave chaos :c
Anyway it is no surprise that her emotion share is just. Grim. Bleak, low, grieving and self-loathing. Numbness. And yet Camille is here, flipping through the racks with a pensive look.
There's a thread of warmth in it all. Zigzagging under the muck and ruin is a fond streak, and it's tugged her to this very spot.]
I'm sorry I didn't realize you were the dog. I was never much for animals, and then Asa got hit with...well. Felt like that needed some immediate attention.
[ ashlyn can be found sometime after trial... sitting outside, behind the theater. it's her sulking spot. i'm sorry all of her starters are the equivalent of :) she's here come bother her!!! :) but alas. ]
Camille will find her. She's in a sulk herself, and shamefully has a bottle of whisky slung in one hand. When she spots Ashlyn she has half a mind to drop it. Where? Who knows. No convenient bush or barrels.
In the end she just pulls up beside her anyway. Sets the bottle on the opposite side, letting her head clunk against the wood.]
[ ashlyn is... wow, surprise, sitting outside behind the theater. and she'll look up and give a lil nod in camille's direction at the sound of footsteps. ]
[They do be slow and belaboured footsteps. Though the weird side-effects ebb and flow healing injuries do not, so she's still moving very carefully as she takes a seat next to Ashlyn. Back where they left off last week.]
WEEK 0: First Saturday
Well, we made it through the night. Think we should celebrate?
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I... guess?
[ ... wait, okay. she recovers somewhat. ]
I mean, we're still trapped, so. Maybe not.
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WEEK 0: Monday ((Spoilers??))
Camille may not know what's going on but she has, rather uselessly, thrown the old white robes back on and keeps to the fog at the edge of town. She's hoping to blend in with the haze, you see. Also to combat the light-up confessions that have been blinking on and off all day.
One particularly cruel line has sprawled over her shoulder blades, visible through the fog. It runs in the family.
This is the light Ashlyn may find her by.]
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but then it's camille and ash likes her and also has Zero Social Skills, so she doesn't think to perhaps leave her alone. ]
Hey. Testing the fog? [ obviously not!!!! ]
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Week 0: Friday
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Ashlyn...
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Week 0: Saturday
That got... hectic at the end.
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It got hellish at the end. No need to mince words.
[God, what she wouldn't do for a cigarette.]
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WEEK 1: Monday
Camille doesn't look wholly uncertain about being on farm property. If anything she's more stepping carefully with her boots. She has little reservation approaching one of the cows, extending a hand to sniff, and rubbing its head with a distant affection.]
Come on in. They're docile.
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They're bigger than you expect.
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Week 1: Friday
she is just anxiously tapping one foot very very fast. ]
Re: Week 1: Friday
[Camille jogs up, having seen a commotion. Knowing there was some fuckery last night. She looks to the bulletin and goes very still.]
...All three?
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Week 1: Saturday
It's almost... better we don't find them until the end, with how much chaos it causes. [ EXCEPT IT'S SO STRESSFUL TO NOT KNOW WHERE TO LOOK FOR HOURS STRAIGHT. aaaaaa ]
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I don't know what we'd do without the barrier.
[Dilemma: shorten their lives with the accumulated stress of weekly nine hour trials, or shorten their lives by monster attack?]
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WEEK 2: Monday (1/2)
Unacceptable.]
2/2 (TRANSCRIPT) ((SPOILERS, CW: child murder, teeth extraction))
She became a fixture at the apartment, helping me cook dinner, asking me questions about homework, telling stories about boys. Amma got progressively quieter with each of Lily's visits. By October, she'd shut her door pointedly when Lily came by.
One night I woke to find Amma standing over my bed.
"You like Lily better than me," she whispered. She was feverish, her nightgown clinging to her sweaty body, her teeth chattering. I guided her to the bathroom, sat her down on the toilet, wet a washcloth under the cool, metallic water of the sink, wiped her brow. Then we stared at each other. Slate blue eyes just like Adora's. Blank. Like a winter pond.
On October 12, Lily Burke disappeared on her way home from school. Four hours later, her body was found, propped tidily next to a Dumpster three blocks from our apartment. Only six of her teeth had been pulled, the oversized front two and four on the bottom.
I phoned Wind Gap and waited on hold twelve minutes until police confirmed my mother was in her home.
I found it first. I let the police discover it, but I found it first. As Amma trailed me like an angry dog, I tore through the apartment, upending seat cushions, rummaging through drawers. What have you done Amma? By the time I got to her room, she was calm. Smug. I sifted through her panties, dumped out her wish chest, turned over her mattress.
I went through her desk and uncovered only pencils, stickers, and a cup that stank of bleach.
I swept out the contents of the dollhouse room by room, smashing my little four-poster bed, Amma's day bed, the lemon yellow love seat. Once I'd flung out my mother's big brass canopy and destroyed her vanity table, either Amma or I screamed. Maybe both of us did. The floor of my mother's room. The beautiful ivory tiles. Made of human teeth. Fifty-six tiny teeth, cleaned and bleached and shining from the floor.
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cw: mention of self harm
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WEEK 2: Thursday
Camille posts up wherever Ashlyn is after healing, coming in for a sit and putting a hand on her head.]
Hey, kiddo.
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[ she's probably sitting near the swamp, still decompressing after getting swamp'd. her leg no longer has a hole in it, and the blood at her stomach isn't spreading anymore. but the scratches on her face remain, as do the chain-shaped burn marks.
also unfortunately she does flinch away from the touch.
but then thinks to clarify. ]
Hurts. Sorry.
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WEEK 2: Saturday
Hey.
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She looks up at Ashlyn, pulls a judgmental face, and flips her hair.]
Hi? What do you want.
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Week 3: Monday
"I am that I am." What's that mean?
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Something religious? Think it's familiar. [Camille tilts her head at the inscription, looking towards the bisected, desiccated nightmare huddled in the tree.] I hope it's not a prophecy or something. Imagine this guy waking up.
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WEEK 4: Tuesday
...Hey.
[Also please don't freak out]
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i woke up lateit was too loud, so she kind of. wandered off at first. but here she is now.so. hey. ashlyn just walks into her and hugs her. ]
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Week 4: Sunday
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Currently at the Haunted House lying down on Tomi's old bed. She is missing an eye forever now but at least it's mostly healed and bandaged? She rolls over and smiles for Ash, groggily greeting her.]
Hey...
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Week 5: Tuesday
I could really use a slow week. Where people weren't throwing curses around like crazy.
god i have been useless the past two days, REACHES FOR MY PRECIOUS ASH
[Mother we crave chaos :c
Anyway it is no surprise that her emotion share is just. Grim. Bleak, low, grieving and self-loathing. Numbness. And yet Camille is here, flipping through the racks with a pensive look.
There's a thread of warmth in it all. Zigzagging under the muck and ruin is a fond streak, and it's tugged her to this very spot.]
I'm sorry I didn't realize you were the dog. I was never much for animals, and then Asa got hit with...well. Felt like that needed some immediate attention.
...You were pretty cute, though.
dw dw
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Week Five: Friday
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She looks at the posters in silence. Swallows. Looks back at the veil, a tear rolling out of her eye.]
...It didn't work.
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Week 5: Saturday
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Camille will find her. She's in a sulk herself, and shamefully has a bottle of whisky slung in one hand. When she spots Ashlyn she has half a mind to drop it. Where? Who knows. No convenient bush or barrels.
In the end she just pulls up beside her anyway. Sets the bottle on the opposite side, letting her head clunk against the wood.]
Said we'd talk, didn't I?
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WEEK 6: Monday
I'm so sorry for yelling. I've never seen fleas explode before.
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[ like aside from it hurting ashlyn thinks just continuing to scream at everything that happened after would be reasonable too ]
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Week 6: Thursday
hi ]
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Ugh!
[splashing uselessly to the shore]
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Week 6: Friday
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How are you holding up?
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WEEK 7: Wednesday
Thanks for showing me around, Ash. This place is enormous.
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Yeah, honestly I'm probably not the best guide. I've barely got a handle on it all, so... Revisiting everything helps me out, too.
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Week 7: Saturday
[ and now all that's left is. going home. ]
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[WHAT HAPPENED THESE LAST TWELVE HOURS. WHAT WAS THAT.]
I'll be glad to put my back to this place, but...obviously there's caveats.
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