Chapter Text
-DETECTIVE ARRIVING ON THE SCENE 1-
notes:
ЖИВОТНОЕ - russian for 'animal' - ZHIVÒTNOJE
SUBCORTICAL - brain region - the subconscious
МУРАШКИ - russian for 'shivers/goosepumps' - MURASHKI
SUBCORTICAL - There is nothing. Only the suffocating emptiness of your mind, it chokes you lovingly. It's round like a bubble and swimming inside it are You.
YOU - You?
SUBCORTICAL - No, *You*.
ЖИВОТНОЕ - (There is something here with you, it seems to live in every atom of your bubble. It breathes fast, like it can't get enough, but every breath just steals more air away from it's glowing loungs.)
ЖИВОТНОЕ - (And the loungs are always glowing.)
YOU - What?
SUBCORTICAL - Don't ask questions, lest you burst the bubble and fall to the oh so *cold, hard, floor*.
ЖИВОТНОЕ - (It shivers at the thought of a *cold, hard, floor.*)
YOU - What's a **cold, hard, floor**?
SUBCORTICAL - A *cold, hard, floor* feels like a family member, maybe it's a person? You're ashamed of them, of knowing them, yet every time they welcome you with open arms, unaware of what a dick you are behind their back.
SUBCORTICAL - We don't like thinking about them. Stop.
YOU - Okay chill... Who else is here?
SUBCORTICAL - That one- you don't like it.
ЖИВОТНОЕ - (It feels sick with happiness at the mention of itself.)
YOU - Do I enjoy anything here?
SUBCORTICAL - The quiet. The darkness. But it's not peaceful with that thing breathing everywhere. So really, nothing.
YOU - Why am I still here then?
SUBCORTICAL - Because you wanted this, man! Does it not live up to expectations? Is it not the ocean of space you imagined? The hug of unexistence? Did you want it to cradle you and gently put you to sleep?
YOU - Sorry, just feels like sitting in a closet with a panting dog.
YOU - Maybe I should get out.
SUBCORTICAL - UGH. 'Out'? Stop it. I don't want to. Nobody here wants this. You don't want it. Stop.
ЖИВОТНОЕ - (All around you it shakes, whimpering. It'll do anything if it means smelling the summer air again, so full of life.)
SUBCORTICAL - SHUT UP.
МУРАШКИ - Over the pale, on the roads, in the meadows and fields, the hills and the trees...
SUBCORTICAL - Please, shut up. Please. Please.
VOLITION - ...In the past.
YOU - (Your eyes open on their own)
-DETECTIVE ARRIVING ON THE SCENE 2-
warnings:
consequences of incredibly destructive self harm - derealization/depersonalization - suicidal ideation
notes:
МУРАШКИ - russian for 'shivers/goosepumps' - MURASHKI
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - A man is sitting on one of the benches in the Whirling-in-Rags cafeteria. He already drank two coffes and smoked two cigarettes in the hour he's been here, an hour too long. He's waiting for his partner.
YOU - You stare straight ahead, your surroundings aren't coming into focus.
PRECEPTION (failure) - Too distracted by what the other one said.
YOU - 'What the hell did 'the other one' mean?'
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - He's waiting.
LOGIC (failure) - For who?
ENCYCLOPEDIA (failure) - For who?
INLAND EMPIRE - A distant firework.
HALF-LIGHT - PISSBOY.
YOU - 'PISSBOY? *Pissboy?* PISSBOY???'
VOLITION - Not now.
THE STARTING POINT - You're on the *cold, hard floor* of a room, grey morning light is only making *the floor* colder. You should get up, it's all so painful.
PAIN THRESHOLD - Your arms are burning, cuts are everywhere, crusty and burning. Your head is splitting, touch it, maybe it has a literal crack in it too.
YOU - touch it.
PERCEPTION (TOUCH) - Your forehead is covered in drying blood.
HAND-EYE COORDINATION - You can barely feel your hands too, the knuckles are torn and your fingers don't bend.
INLAND EMPIRE - An animal did this.
VISUAL CALCULUS - Not an animal, the cuts are more delibarate than animal scratches.
INLAND EMPIRE - Not what I meant.
YOU - You're completely out of it, you groan as you sit up, hands outstretched, and the room starts *dancing.*
ENDURANCE - You're okay, snap out of it, it's just your head.
YOU - Stand and actually observe the room.
REACTION SPEED (failure) - You just noticed you dont have any clothes on, this is why you're so cold. Except a black tie wrung too tight around your neck. It's backwards.
COMPOSURE - Stay cool, keep your dighnity.
LOGIC - In front of who??
PERCEPTION (failure) - You spot clothes strewn around the trashed room. The room is trashed by the way, the couch/pile of rubble smells like... burning?? Did you do all this yourself? The wall has bloodstains on it and a tape player is spitting out it's contents in the corner.
VOLITION - Where are the clothes, smoky?
PERCEPTION - A brown coat with a lighter collar next to you, pants on the destroyed couch.
VISUAL CALCULUS - The coffe table has been smashed and the pieces lie burned on the couch. Someone has attempted to make a campfire.
PERCEPTION - You stumle into the bathroom. The first thing you notice: The shattered mirror, also with blood on the shards, blood in the sink, shoes in the sink.
YOU - 'Are the shoes wet?'
INLAND EMPIRE - Wet with blood.
LOGIC - You smashed the mirror with your hands. What the fuck?
YOU - 'Yeah what the fuck?'
HALF-LIGHT - WAIT. It's all wrong.
LOGIC - You don't remember how this happened, how anything happened.
PAIN-THREASHOLD (failure) - God it hurts...
COMPOSURE (failure) - Oh *fuck*...
YOU - you sway and grip the edges of the sink, bending your fingers makes the wounds on your knuckles open up. The pain blinds out everything else for a moment, it's almost nice.
ENDURANCE (failure) - Or it would be if you weren't bleeding again.
VOLITION (failure) - You did this to yourself didn't you, you fuck? Smashed your hand on the mirror and your head on the wall? What the fuck? Why? WHY?
- 1 health
- 1 morale
EMPATHY - You're hurt, be kind to yourself at least this once.
VOLITION - Look up into what's left of the mirror, start with finding out what you look like.
YOU - Look in th-
INLAND EMPIRE - STOP. You'll hate what you'll see, even if it's just the shards of what you broke, they cut.
RHETORIC - And you're already bleeding, so what?
YOU - (check: VOLITION - hard) Look up and witness.
+ 1 already bleeding
check: succsess
PERCEPTION - Through the cracks, a flash of dark-grey eyes, scratched cheecks, dirty dark-blond hair.
EMPATHY - The eyes of a dead man.
INLAND EMPIRE - You should be dead right now.
CONCEPTUALISATION - These eyes shift colours depending on wich way they look, and isn't that the most accurate metaphor for a person you've ever heard?
EMPATHY - Right now, they are scared of their own sadness.
HALF-LIGHT - Rip away what's left of the mirror. RIGHT NOW.
HAND-EYE COORDINATION - It would just completely put your hands out of comission!
ELECTROCHEMISRY - But what about the pleasant haze? What about *choosing* to be in pain? You love how it feels! Gimme some more!
YOU - I didn't choose all of this!
INLAND EMPIRE - Oh but you did, you beat yourself into a state where the only real thing was *that warm, warm place*. You swam in it, glad you'd die smelling the special scent the days have in that place.
МУРАШКИ - You choke just thinking about it. Every blade of grass, every flower, every leaf, every rotten board.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - It was *amazing*, you're pracically salivating at the thought of that high.
LOGIC - You don't actually remeber it.
CONCEPTUALISATION - But your marked up body is the record.
ENDURANCE - Step away *right now*.
YOU - go put on your fucking clothes.
You tug them on one by one, they're already dirty and you're adding fresh blood. The pants have a hole burnt through them, but you really *can't* give a shit, you broke your shits too.
INLAND EMPIRE - Step out of your coffin and say hello to the land of the living!
OUTSIDER - You're a dead man, you don't belong there.
HALF-LIGHT - Spit in the face of the gods who put you here!
VOLITION - Don't spit in peoples faces.
COMPOSURE - Open the door like a normal person.
INLAND EMPIRE - YOU ARE A DEAD MAN! YOU KILLED YOURSELF!
CONCEPTUALISATION - A corpse does not abide to society, TEAR SHIT UP!
HALF-LIGHT - CORPSE-STYLE!!
You've been standing in front of the door for five minutes.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Jean Vicquemare finishes his third cup of coffe, marking another half hour passed. All the caffeine finally breaks him and he stands up sharply, cursing under his breath. He's basically boiling. You should be afraid.
YOU - 'WHAT?? I don't even know who the fuck you're talking about!'
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Be afraid. Vicquemare stomps up the stairs, he's still cursing. The woman smoking in the hallway follows him with her eyes. He passes the first door...
PERCEPTION (HEARING) - You hear footsteps to the left of your door.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - A cigarette pack sits in your breastpocket, get it out *right now*, light it, and thank me.
REACTION SPEED (failure) - You're too stunned by the unexplained fear to move a muscle.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Jean remembers asking the cafeteria manager for your room number, it's the third.
YOU - 'Why does he know me? Why does he need me??'
LOGIC (failure) - I have no idea, I'm as scared as you are.
JEAN - Suddenly the door shakes from the vigour with wich the lieutenant is banging on it.
"Open up shitkid!"
HALF-LIGHT (failure) - GOD DON'T OPEN HE'LL EAT YOU ALIVE.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Nobody answers his shout. The door is silent. He takes a deep breath.
JEAN - "I *know* you're in there, you motherfucker, fucking sleeping." He's keeping his voice low, there's so much *threat* in there.
VOLITION - Open right now or it'll get worse.
EMPATHY - He hates talking to a closed door.
COMPOSURE (failure) - PLEASE, you can't show yourself in the state you're in!
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - LIGHT A GODDAMN CIGARETTE.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Wait another *second* and he'll come down and ask the manager for a key to your room. And then you'll *really* be fucked.
JEAN - He stares at the door for another moment and listens. He thinks he hears someone breathing, so the shitkid really *is* inside.
REACTION SPEED (failure) - Wait is the door even lo-
JEAN - He decides to try one last thing before storming back down to the cafeteria and places a hand on the handle of your door.
HALF-LIGHT - RUN!!
The door swings open. You're right face to face with him.
EMPATHY - He also didn't expect this. It was a half-hearted attempt.
COMPOSURE (failure) - You jump and make a face when your wounds graze against fabric.
PERCEPTION - He has smallpox scars all over his face, right now his eyes are wide and oh-so light.
CONCEPTUALIZATION - They contrast *very* nicely with his black uniform and dark hair.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - You look like you were standing here for a while.
EMPATHY - The surprise gets immediately overshadowed by anger. He's too absorbed by it to notice the... *everything* about you.
COMPOSURE (failure) - *YOU* look terrified.
JEAN - "What the fuck?! You're an hour and a half late, what the *hell* are you even still doing here?" He's gesturing sharply with angular hands. "We're supposed to do our fucking jobs, not sleep-" The words die.
LOGIC - He defenitly noticed the couch now.
JEAN - His hands fall as he takes in the room.
COMPOSURE - Thank GOD he can't see the bathroom from here.
JEAN - Then his eyes land on you again, his eyerows frowning so aggresivly it makes your temples hurt. *Now* he sees the damage.
JEAN - He sputters and looks back first at the room, then at you. "WHAT THE FUCK??" He throws out his hands.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Light up a cigarette or you won't be able to get a single word out.
YOU - (check: HAND-EYE COORDINATION - medium) smoke.
- 1 Jean is staring at you
- 1 should've done this sooner
(check: failure)
COMPOSURE (failure) - You reach for the pack, even get it out of the pocket. But Jean is still staring *straight* into your eyes and you aren't looking at your hands.
HAND-EYE COORDINATION - You tip the pack and shake it once to get a cigarette out.
PRECEPTION (HEARING) - All of them fall to the floor.
- 1 morale
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - It's fine, just pick one up.
VOLITION (failure) - God you can't. Can't do anything but stare back at Jean with helpless eyes, maybe if you look pathetic enough he'll pick one up for you.
JEAN - He blinks at your failure and sighs.
EMPATHY - He's no stranger to self-destruction, but this seems catastrophic.
YOU - Wait a fucking second, who am I to him??
ENCYCLOPEDIA (failure) - I have no clue.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS (failure) - Something you should have remembered.
RHETORIC - No shit man, you also should've remembered your fuking name.
REACTION SPEED (failure) - Oh my god I didn't notice you forgot your name-
LOGIC (failure) - You said he was waiting for his partner... Partner... Partner...
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - If you were staring into the barrel of a gun, he'd push you out of the way and take the bullet.
INLAND EMPIRE - *Oh.*
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - *Oh baby...*
LOGIC - We're missing something, everybody stop!
OUTSIDER - This makes you not remembering him worse.
AUTHORITY - He said STOP.
YOU - (check: LOGIC - easy) Who are you to him?
- 1 cigarettes on the floor
- 1 his eyes on you
(check: failure)
LOGIC - From what you picked up, you're his partner.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - In the sheets, baby!
VOLITION - This is terrible news by the way.
OUTSIDER (failure) - It's fucking great news! He'll listen, he'll understand...
HALF-LIGHT - And he'll never speak to you again.
COMPOSURE - SAY SOMETHING.
YOU - "I am so. sorry."
PERCEPTION - You hear your voice for the first time, it's tiny and absolutely broken, like you screamed the entire night.
INLAND EMPIRE - Like you sang your *lungs* out.
JEAN - He almost doesn't even hear you.
JEAN - "Y- what the *hell* happened to you?"
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Your posture is so bad you're on eye-level with the lieutenant.
COMPOSURE - Communicate your regret with an appropriate facial expression.
VOLITION - Keep talking. Explain yourself.
AUTHORITY - Don't let him interrogate you!
COMPOSURE (failure) - You nervously start wringing your hands together. "When- Y- Uhh"
YOU - "Uh. Baby, look-"
JEAN - His eyebrows fly up, a least he's not frowning anymore.
EMPATHY (failure) - That means a threat. He's daring you to keep speaking.
YOU - (check: ELECTROCHEMISTRY - easy) pick up a cigarette.
(check: succsess)
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - YES YES YES!
YOU - You frantically bend down and snatch a whole handful off the floor, your other hand reaches for the lighter inside your pocket on it's own.
PHYSICAL INSRUMENT (failure) - As you straighten out the world blacks out.
JEAN - He catches you before you can start falling.
JEAN - "Okay easy-" He holds you by the forearms with both hands.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Your vision comes back to you only when you finally light a cigarette, burning yourself as you almost drop the lighter. The other cigarettes are stuffed into your pocket for later.
YOU - Your eyes flutter closed as you breathe smoke.
JEAN - Straight into his face.
JEAN - "Alright whatever it is we should take it to the balcony-" He coughs.
AUTHORITY (failure) - Let him hold you by the shoulder and lead you outside.
INLAND EMPIRE - You close your eyes as you drag your feet through the hallway.
VOLITION (failure) - You don't remember where you were going, you could fall asleep walking right now.
PERCEPTION - You flinch as sea air and grey light overwhelms you.
ENDURANCE (failure) - Your head shatters again.
- 1 health
CONCEPTUALISATION - It's like the sea is inside your head.
COMPOSURE (failure) - You grind your palm against your face and let out a sound similar to a whistling kettle.
-DETECTIVE ARRIVING ON THE SCENE 3-
warnings:
suicidal ideation - suicide attempt mention - derealization/depersonalization - delusion - worm talk - corpse talk - self-harm wound description -
notes:
МУРАШКИ - russian for 'shivers/goosepumps' - MURASHKI
YOU - open your eyes.
МУРАШКИ - Feeling a gentle brush of air on your cheecks, hear the slow rustling of curtains as sunlight pours through the open window.
VOLITION - It isn't real.
ENCYCLOPEDIA - You are in Martinaise, a district of Ravachol right by the sea. After the failed revolution nobody bothered to rebuild it.
INLAND EMPIRE - Now the bones of old structures are inhabitet by worms. You'll fit right in, a corpse in a graveyard.
CONCEPTUALISATION - A graveyard is so much more than a resting place, it's alive with *organisms*. More alive than many other places, it's teeming with ambition. Ambitious bacteria.
INLAND EMPIRE - The corpse gets to live.
Thought gained: DEAD MAN WALKING
You killed yourself, split your head open, bled out on the floor. Now you find yourself an outsider in the land of the living, you walk, you talk, but they can see the worms just beneath your skin. They hear your voice decay, your eyes fall. Your lungs can't give anything more. Every second you rot a little more, soon the worms will burst from your skin and your body will finally end.
+ 1 INLAND EMPIRE: The worms talk, do you hear them?
+ 1 OUTSIDER: You don't belong here
- 1 EMPATHY: Why should you care about the living?
- 1 VOLITION: It doesn't matter anymore.
(Internalize)
REACTION SPEED (failure) - Jean snaps his fingers in front of your face and it feels like all the air rushes inside your body at once. Have you been breathing?
COMPOSURE - Blink, look at him and don't let the cigarette fall out of your mouth.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Jean takes in the cop that just called him 'baby'. In the light he looks less like a literal fucking ghost and more like a bleeding man.
LOGIC - Waaait-
PERCEPTION (HEARING) - He mumbles "let's fucking..."
JEAN - He extends a hand for you to shake. "Jean-Heron Vicquemare."
LOGIC - Why is he introducing himself if he's your boyfriend?
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Your *partner*.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - ...In the sheets?
LOGIC - Buddy I think we fucked up, he is *not* your baby.
COMPOSURE (failure) - You're just standing there with a horrified expression like you're scared of his hand.
LOGIC - Wait another goddamn second, did the other one say you were 'a cop'??
EMPATHY - You're confusing him, now he's worried he broke you by offering his hand.
JEAN - He shifts weight and starts pulling away.
REACTION SPEED - Act now!
YOU - (check: COMPOSURE - medium) Shake it!
- 1 A COP?!
- 1 THIS ISN'T YOUR BABY!!
(check: failure)
YOU - The horror bubbles up and instead of shaking his hand you shout: "I'M A COP???"
REACTION SPEED (failure) - The cigarette flies out of your mouth.
PERCEPTION - It was a very quiet shout, your voice still doesn't want to collaborate.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - He retracts back a bit.
"What???" He thinks. This man meets the meager description he was given: 'Blonde, graadian, smokes even more than you.', he has reflective RCM rectangles on his coat, but something is *very* fucking wrong.
JEAN - "What? W- Who do you *think* you are?!"
EMPATHY - He's feeling this day spiral- no, completely fucking take off out of the zone of control.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Before you can respond you light another cigarette without thinking about it.
YOU - throw your hands out and let them fall back down, hitting your sides, in a gesture three levels of "I don't even fucking-" above a shrug.
RHETORIC (failure) - You didn't even think about who you are- How are you suposed to answer right now??
INLAND EMPIRE - You're a corpse, you started decaying just this night!
VOLITION - Stop saying that.
RHETORIC - 'A corpse' is an absolute nonsense thing to answer.
AUTHORITY - You should say it, throw Jean off his game, take the converstaion by the throat.
VOLITION - You're fucking ridiculous, don't say that.
INLAND EMPIRE - Say it before your vocal cords rot.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Jean regrets asking it, he should go back home, he should't examine the mess he just stumbled into.
YOU - "I'm a corpse." Your face is very calm, as you say the words you feel the ground soften under your feet, letting you in. You're calm.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - He stares at you for a moment. He thinks you're trying to be casual, he doesn't fucking buy it.
JEAN - "Fine." He crosses his arms.
JEAN - "You need medical attention-" He glances at the dried blood on your forehead. "What the *shit* even happened to you?"
RHETORIC - You need the attention of a mortitian.
VOLITION (failure) - God not you too-
YOU - roll the cigarette into the other side of your mouth and take a deep, long breath.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - He's dressed in a black uniform with reflective rectangles on the shoulders, just like yours, and two white lines at the end of every sleeve and cuff. A belt wraps around his waist and he has a white collared shirt on, with a black tie tucked inside the coat.
CONCEPTUALISATION - As I said before, his eyes contrast very nicely with the black. He looks like he's made out of squares, ractangles, and very small white flowers.
EMPATHY - Like if you press your fingers in, the uniform will tear like wet paper and he'll fall apart.
YOU - A *very* long breath.
OUTSIDER - It won't end good if you tell him you killed yourself.
DRAMA - We can pretend to be alive.
RHETORIC - Alright, tell him only what happened when you woke up, don't mention how you got here.
ENCYCLOPEDIA (failure) - You don't know how you did, that's why.
YOU - "Okay so-" You put on a conspiratorial tone and hold up a finger. "I woke up, realized I don't know *anything*, not even what I look like, where I am, or who I am." Your eyes don't change even as your face goes through multiple exaggerated expressions to illustrate how bizzare this situation is. "And then you burst through the door and I dropped all my cigarettes to the *cold, hard, floor*." You're dead serious again when you motion to the one and only, floor.
DRAMA (failure) - You're so alive right now!
EMPATHY (failure) - You're only trying to convince him you feel the same about your *thing* as him. Actually you feel like this sitiuation is the most logical outcome -- if you kill yourself you die.
JEAN - He raises his eyebrows again. His shoulders are still squared and arms crossed.
DRAMA - Fuck, he's waiting for you to 'stop joking'.
OUTSIDER - We aren't telling him the truth.
VOLITION - It isn't even the fucking truth!
INLAND EMPIRE - You'll accept it eventually.
YOU - roll the cigarette in your mouth again. "I know you aren't buying it, but I don't know who you are or what happened.." You remember the blood on your forehead and poke it. It's alarmingly numb. "That's probably the reason."
DRAMA - Alright the 'geniuine worry' approach seems to be getting to him more, keep it up, sire.
EMPATHY - He slips into a familiar, sarcastic tone.
JEAN - "Yeah? What, you fell out of bed, cracked your head and now you don't remember you were supposed to be solving a crime?"
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - It's obvious there's more here, he's a detective after all. But he desperatly wants to avoid dealing with an amnesiac partner on a case this big. And if he doesn't take it seriously it's not real enough to hurt him.
LOGIC (failure) - Wait, a crime? you have responsobilities here?
INLAND EMPIRE - A corpse doesn't have responsobilities.
YOU - "A crime?"
INLAND EMPIRE - You ask.
HALF-LIGHT - Like an idiot.
JEAN - "Yeees, a crime." He narrows his eyes and nods, slowly.
PERCEPTION - ...
PERCEPTION - He doesn't elaborate.
YOU - (check: LOGIC - medium) Put it together.
+ 1 the crime
+ 1 the patches on your shoulders
+ 1 partners
+ 1 a cop
(check: succsess)
LOGIC - You're a cop here to solve a crime, that's it. You work as a cop and you have to solve a crime. Jean is your partner, probably a new one, seeing as he introduced himself. You were late to your meeting down in the cafeteria and he came to find you.
INLAND EMPIRE - If you solve the crime, will god let you go?
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Never, they'll never let you rest.
RHETORIC - God can't stop erosion.
HALF-LIGHT - Don't apologize to Vickymare.
YOU - Other than apologizing profusely the only thing that comes to mind is extending your hand in a second attempt at a handshake. "Well-" The cigarette rolls again, it's almost burnt out. "Let's solve a crime, partner?"
REACTION SPEED - You almost said "baby".
PERCEPTION - He shakes your too-warm hand, his is cold and dry.
МУРАШКИ - Like the sheets on your first day back, you pull them out the closet where they've been cooling for half a year, the warmth of a body slowly seeping out, the sheets forgot you. But they'll remember you. Your hands barely hold the blankets together, your back strains and your nails ache uncomfortably.
YOU - flinch and snap out of it. You gasp a little, the thing stole breath from you, like you were actually holding the blankets.
YOU - 'Stop fucking *doing* this-'
EMPATHY - It doesn't want to listen.
REACTION SPEED - You've been holding his hand too tight, you quickly let it go.
JEAN - He ignores your little fuckups and finally uncrosses his arms.
YOU - "I'm ready to work! But you'll have to fill me in at least a little."
COMPOSURE (failure) - You sound desparate.
EMPATHY - Desparate for a distraction, for direction.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - For another smoke.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Jean takes another good look at his unfortunate partner. As the man fumbles to light another cigarette -- the third? -- he notices the opened wound on his cknuckles, cuts starting at the outer sides of his hands, going down into the sleeves of his coat, of course the glaring, almost black clump of blood covering half of his forehead. It's almost like he's evaluating a corpse at a crime scene. The man -- who's name Jean still doesn't know, nobody told him -- is still shaking a little, his fingers barely bend, and he's moving like every twich burns him.
JEAN - He sighs as you finally light the cigarette.
JEAN - "Shit's not gonna get done if you keep shaking like a wet dog. We're going down and getting bandages from Garte."
-DETECTIVE ARRIVING ON THE SCENE 4-
warnings:
major dissasociation - fear of time pressure - wound descriptions - worm mention - all the usual themes of death, decay, suicide, delusion and self-harm - isolation
notes:
I have no medical knowledge
You both walk out into the hallway and make your way to the stairs at the end, you're trailing behind him.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - You're not gonna stop smoking, even inside. Fuck the living and their *fresh-ass* lungs!
JEAN - As you walk down the stairs he glances over his shoulder and asks: "So what's your name?"
ENCYCLOPEDIA (failure) - We told him we don't remember anything!
RHETORIC - We didn't specifically tell him we forgot our name.
EMPATHY - The lieutenant is still hoping this isn't as bad as it is.
CONCEPTUALISATION - Complete. Creative. Freedom!
YOU - (check: CONCEPTUALISATION - hard) Your name...
+ 1 looked yourself in the eyes
(chec-
HALF-LIGHT - PISSBOY.
CONCEPTUALISATION - I was about to-
HALF-LIGHT - No you weren't.
CONCEPTUALISATION (failure) - The fuck you mean by 'PISSBOY'??
YOU - too confused to say anything you don't answer at all.
JEAN - "Right, you don't know."
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - He regrets asking.
EMPATHY (failure) - So much regret with this guy, chill out.
You reach the bottom and find yourself in a big room with pretty tile on the floor, brick columns, long tables and benches in the middle, and a bar to the right.
JEAN - He immidietly makes his way to the man behind it. He has a purple shirt and black vest on.
CONCEPTUALISATION - You stay back to stare at the kitchen wall, half torn away it let's the brick show. Along the tear -- plants and decorative bottles stand in a loose row. It's all creamy plaster, rough and vibrant brick, and delicius deep green, shining like candy.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - You wish you could lick all the parts of this wall at once.
YOU - drag your eyes back down to Jean and the PURPLE MAN.
PERCEPTION - The cafeteria is quiet, even from here you can hear them talking.
JEAN - He leans over the counter with one elbow, the other hand on his hip. "Do you have any medical supplies we could borrow?"
LOGIC - This is the Garte he mentioned.
GARTE THE PURPLE MAN - "Uh... I think there are some bandages left over? We don't have any disenfectant though, I could lend you a bottle of vodka?" He switches from indiference to worry. "Is it an emergency?"
JEAN - He seems too calm for it to be an emergency, but you *do* look like you're gonna fall over in the next thirty seconds.
ENDURANCE (failure) - You feel like it too. All the standing has cought up to you at once. You feel like your lungs won't expand no matter how much you will them to and the exhale won't leave your throat.
YOU - Oh fuck what-
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (failure) - Sit down RIGHT NOW or you'll collapse from the inside out.
JEAN - He glances back at you. "Yes."
GARTE THE PURPLE MAN - "Oh- okay shit wait here." He hurries off to the kitchen
YOU - manage to flop down on a bench before your legs give out.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - You bend in half and gasp for air.
PERCEPTION - The cigarette falls to the tile.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Slowly your organs start back up, buzzing. Even your teeth buzz.
YOU - evenually your breathing evens out, but you still stay with your face in your knees.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - *Finally*, a break.
YOU - let out the heaviest, nastiest, suffering sigh and relax.
INLAND EMPIRE - No purple men or sarcastic police officers could reach you here.
EMPATHY - So safe and warm, you wrap your hands around your middle.
YOU - let the world go for a little while.
INLAND EMPIRE - Everything around you fizzles out and turns to smoke.
CONCEPTUALISATION - It moves past you, flowing like a watercurrent.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - This would feel so much more awesome if a person was hugging you.
OUTSIDER - Oh it would not, you'd be too tense trying to predict their movements.
INLAND EMPIRE - Your arms feel foreign enough like this that you can imagine it's a person without the anixiety.
PERCEPTION - What is that, piercing through the smoke and resting on your shoulder?
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - He holds a half-drained bottle of vodka, a small roll of bandages and a loose handful of plasters with one hand, the other is on your shoulder as he contemplates just shaking you into lucidity.
EMPATHY - The touch is uncharacteristically light, you almost can't feel it through the cotton that's clogging your brain right now.
OUTSIDER - It's still too much.
HALF-LIGHT - *Please get it off.*
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (failure) - Your body isn't reacting, like at all. You've slouched further down than I thought was possible.
PAIN-THRESHOLD - Your back is desperatly crying but it's muted by your inability to focus.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - He shakes the detective's shoulder but the guy just slides further down the bench. He relents and bites under his breath: "Bleed out then." Dropping down next to you he deflates and let's his head fall back with closed eyes.
EMPATHY - The bite doesn't have any bite, he just sounds tired.
PAIN-THRESHOLD (failure) - *God,* straighten out atleast, your back is about to fucking snap.
VOLITION - Come up buddy.
REACTION SPEED - You feel the smoke press you with the weight of a cow.
OUTSIDER - Even this place doesn't have space for you.
VOLITION - *Come up.*
YOU - sit up with a sharp inhale.
You square your shoulders with hands on your knees and snap to look at your partner.
JEAN - He gives you an absolutely dead look. "Good morning, shitkid."
EMPATHY (failure) - Passive aggresive too? Damn.
INLAND EMPIRE - You didn't so much wake up as you were snatched up by the current of the world.
JEAN - He gathers himself and stands up with a groan.
-DETECTIVE ARRIVING ON THE SCENE 5-
You enter your room again.
CONCEPTUALISATION - You expect to see your body on the floor, but there's nothing there.
INLAND EMPIRE - Jean stands out against the fog that hangs here.
OUTSIDER - It's incredibly jarring. It's like he dug up your grave, opened it, and then had the audacity to jump inside.
HALF-LIGHT - Something will happen if he sees the mirror. You can't let him.
JEAN - He doesn't linger in the room and walks straight to the bathroom door.
YOU - hang back in fear.
INLAND EMPIRE - Like it'll soften the blow of what's coming.
JEAN - He opens it and freezes mid step.
REACTION SPEED (failure) - You're ready to- I don't even know, sprint away? Knock him out with a shoe?
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - A wierd wave of... something washes over him when he swings the door open.
EMPATHY - He doesn't want to entertain the idea that you did this all on purpose, it feels too big. Believing you got in a fight and crawled through a rose bush is much, much easier.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Imagine if you tried to destroy yourself and didn't even remember it, he thinks.
EMPATHY - He can't decide if it would be easier not to remember.
JEAN - "Sit on the edge," He waves to the bathtub and dumps the medical supplies on the closed toilet.
COMPOSURE - He wraps himself up in a slightly irritated tone, distracting himself with opening the cabinet on the wall with a bit too much agression, looking for anything else you could use.
МУРАШКИ - You stand by the sink next to the stairs, your hand held out and bleeding from your ring finger. Your grandma raises her voice scolding you for punching the window when your little cousin was standing right next to you, he could've lost an eye! You don't really know what to do about your finger.
YOU - Your eyes immidietly find the small scar.
YOU - Stop that fucking shit.
JEAN - He turns to you. "Alright, I'll wait in the bedroom."
REACTION SPEED (failure) - When you finally catch up he's already gone.
EMPATHY - Bieng left alone doesn't feel better. It feels like the last piece of the world has left the room.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Stop thinking, just get your body back together.
ENDURANCE - You'll never be complete, but this'll tape over the cracks.
YOU - reach out for the plasters.
ENCYCLOPEDIA - Wait, wrong, you should use the vodka first.
YOU - take the cotton Jean probably go from the cabinet, hold it to the mouth of the bottle and quickly tip it over once.
SAIVOUR FAIRE - And you *don't* spill it all over the floor!
YOU - The smell immidiatly hits you in the nose, and you dab it on the first cut you see with a weak hand.
VOLITION (failure) - God there are so many, you'll have to undress to get them all. This is going to take forever.
- 1 morale
YOU - go over every cut on the fingers of your left hand.
VISUAL CALCULUS - One... two... and a third.
PAIN THRESHOLD - You're almost too numb to feel the sting.
YOU - move to the outer side of the hand.
VISUAL CALCULUS - One... Two.
VOLITION (failure) - You'll pass out before you get to your shoulder.
ENDURANCE (failure) - Not only from boredom, but also from oxygen deficiency. It's getting hard to breathe again buddy.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (failure) - God it's like your lungs also have mental illness and just *give up* every ten minutes.
YOU - grip your knee and try to hold on.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (failure) - No chance, you aren't breathing.
HALF-LIGHT - DO SOMETHING.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (failure) - Too weak.
(Thought Progress: DEAD MAN WALKING - 29%)
+ 1 INLAND EMPIRE: The worms talk, do you hear them?
+ 1 OUTSIDER: You don't belong here
- 1 EMPATHY: Why should you care about the living?
- 1 VOLITION: It doesn't matter anymore.
REACTION SPEED - You're decaying, it's a ticking clock. Your organs are failing one by one like flickering lightbulbs
INLAND EMPIRE - The worms won't bury to the surface right now, but they aren't asking for your input on the matter. They won't wake you up when it's time.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Little by fucking little, you breathe again.
HALF-LIGHT - God...
REACTION SPEED - You'll decompose. Soon.
VOILITION - Please get yourself out of whatever the fuck this is.
CONCEPTUALISATION - Get him, he's too much of a distracting presence to let you sink.
VOLITION (failure) - *Fuck*, he's so far away.
INLAND EMPIRE - He's in the other room, you're inside your head. Couldn't get any farther.
VOLITION - Just say his name.
YOU - "Jean-"
PERCEPTION - ...
PERCEPTION - *Your voice is too quiet.*
- 1 morale
INLAND EMPIRE - Everything turns to smoke again.
EMPATHY - You don't want to be here this time.
HALF-LIGHT - IT'S DANGEROUS.
YOU - (check: PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - impossible) Come on.
- 1 already failed once
VOLITION - *God, please.*
(check: succsess)
PHYSICAL INSRUMENT - You say his name as loud as you can, it feels more like a sob. You pray he hears you because you *can't* do this again.
JEAN - "What?" He shouts from the other room, but it sounds like you're underwater.
EMPATHY - You feel so much relief.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - He waits for an answer, but nothing comes. anixiety bites.
VOLITION - Hold on for just a little longer.
JEAN - "Did you call?" He stops in the doorway.
EMPATHY - He feels awkward worrying, it frays his edges.
YOU - release a breath and slump down, not looking at him.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Silence, he notices the dropped cotton. So the man couldn't do it himself, of course. He reprimands himself for thinking it was fine to leave him alone, of fucking course it wasn't. He probably has a concussion and Jean is a coward.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - I didn't know relief could get you high, but you feel light and smile into your knees.
PERCEPTION (HEARING) - You follow him with your ears: he walks over, stops to your left, takes something from the small pile on the toilet, tips the vodka bottle.
JEAN - "Hey, show me your forehead."
YOU - sit up best you can and face him.
COMPOSURE (failure) - Your eyes are brarely open and the smile is still there, you definitely *look* high.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - The face gives him a pause but he blinks it off.
JEAN - Holding a fresh piece of vodka-cotton, he tries to evaluate the damage on your forehead, but it's just a giant piece of dried blood.
LOGIC - Wait, why are we not in a hospital right now?
JEAN - He changes his mind and wets a clean-adjasent towel with water.
ENCYCLOPEDIA - A hospital visit would cost you a week worth of food.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - The lieutenant, who, right now, is trying to decide how to approach your forehead, figured you didn't look bad enough to warrant driving back to the precinct and putting even more pressure on the single doctor they have there.
JEAN - He finally moves and puts the towel on the edge of the crusty blot.
COMPOSURE - You don't flinch.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (failure) - You do however make it hard for him to do anything. You aren't strong enough to hold your head in place.
JEAN - After another unseccsessful attempt to clean the blood he finally says: "Okay- just let me fucking do this."
REACTION SPEED (failure) - Suddenly there's a hand on your jaw.
HALF-LIGHT - NONONONONO-
PERCEPTION - It's slightly shaky.
OUTSIDER - It makes your skin crawl, from jaw, down your neck, spreading through your shoulders.
YOU - grip your knee tighter.
REACTION SPEED (failure) - Uh- Fucking sorry i guess?
YOU - suddenly your forehead stings.
LOGIC - He switched to the vodka-cotton again.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - In his concentration Jean forgets some of the anixiety this was giving him.
PERCEPTION - His hand becomes more confident, he's holding your face properly now.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - hehehahehaehah
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - It's like warm calmness is spreading through you, washing away pain, replacing the crawling.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - GOD this is the best you've felt since you woke up!
COMPOSURE (failure) - Your eyes close completely. You let out a sigh and relax into his hand.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - The wound turned out bieng small enough to cover with a square plaster, after he's finished he glances down at your face.
EMPATHY - It gives him some *very* confusing feelings.
JEAN - "Let's see your arms. Take off the coat." He let's go of your jaw and looms expectandly with hands on his hips.
You slouch again and shimmy out of your coat with a grimace, when it's finally off you throw it in the bathtub.
JEAN - He takes your right hand -- the one with the bleeding knuckles -- and starts the process over again. Tip the bottle on a fresh cottonball, dab the cut, decide if it warrants a bandage and move on.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - It's good when he holds your hand, too.
ENCYCLOPEDIA - This is called touch-starvation, you haven't had a positive physical interaction in so long even just a little can get you 'high'.
OUTSIDER - I swear if we get addicted to this grey-eyed bitch too, I'm gonna quit my job.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Can you even get addicted to touch?
ENCYCLOPEDIA - Theoretically you can get addicted to anything, it doesn't mean that we will though.
Thought gained: THORNY FLESH
When a coworker claps you on the shoulder, you flinch. When a child grabs you in a hug your hands freeze mid-air. It's always too jarring, too sudden, too rough, too soft, you can't wrap your head around it quick enough to respond.
You see an uncrossable distance between your rotting hands and the bodies that sorround you, and reaching out wasn't worth the effort in a long, long time.
+ 1 HALF-LIGHT: bite the hand that pets you
+ 1 OUTSIDER: They would't want your hands anyways.
(Internalize)
JEAN - He pushes up your sleeve, the cuffs are already opened. The cuts stop around the bicep.
PAIN-THRESHOLD - You can feel a couple more on your shoulder, where Jean can't reach.
OUTSIDER - Listen to me. Under no circumstances are we taking off our shirt.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - The cuts could get infected-
OUTSIDER - Please, you can kill me after this for all i care, but for our sake, listen to me.
YOU - Alright..?
JEAN - He lets your plaster- and bandage-covered arm fall and begins working on the other one.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - He would be boiling with anixiety right now if it weren't for the wound patching keeping him focused.
EMPATHY - The kind of anixiety that feels like it's about to rip itself through your chest in spikes, the kind that makes you lash out to end the conversation any way you can.
A pile of bloody vodka-cotton is building up in the trashcan.
BLOODY VODKA-COTTON - We've been stars, we've been seeds, we've been blooms and we'll be stars again some day.
YOU - shoot the wet cotton a single limp fingergun.
JEAN - He turns to the trashcan, and looks back at you with a frown. "What?"
YOU - shake your head, he doesn't get it.
BLOODY VODKA-COTTON - We burn the little animals in your cracks and make his fingers sting.
+ 1 morale
+ 2 health
JEAN - He straightens out and kicks your shoe with his own. "Up-up!"
CONCEPTUALISATION - Like he's talking to a horse.
YOU - look up at him with a 'hm?'.
JEAN - "If you don't have any more shit I should take care of, we're gonna finally start working." He turns on the tap and rinses off the alcohol.
JEAN - "Also. Wash your hands."
PERCEPTION - You look at your palms for the first time.
YOU - Jesus christ that's filthy.
RHETORIC - They look like a handshake could give someone four illnesses and a computer virus.
EMPATHY (failure) - And Jean shook your hand??
YOU - "Yu-uh, let's work..."
-DETECTIVE ARRIVING ON THE SCENE 6-
warnings:
notes:
YOU - "So-"
SAIVOIR FAIRE (failure) - You almost trip on the stairs.
PERCEPTION - You're following your partner through the Whirling again, in the time you spent in the bloody bathroom a couple more people gathered in the cafeteria: A man in a beanie in the corner and an old lady in a wheelchair by the wall where the turned-off pinball machine lurks.
YOU - "What is.. the crime?"
JEAN - He doesn't pay any attention to the lady as you walk to the doors.
YOU - wave to her on your way out.
THE LADY - She gives you a heartwrenchingly friendly wave back.
PERCEPTION - The air is salty, cold and sharp.
YOU - where am I actually?
ENCYCLOPEDIA (failure) - Doesn't feel like a place you know by heart.
PERCEPTION - you're on a big empty circle of tile, the ground is cracked and raised in big pieces in some places. Just ahead you see dark water, and the other shore clouded in mist. The buildings you saw from the balcony now stand to the side to make space for you. To the right a wall of trucks and lorreys stands frozen and quiet on what used to be an intercection.
PERCEPTION - Shouts are coming from further up the road, they're quiet like the rest of it, blown away by the wind.
JEAN - Even his voice sounds smaller out here. "Someone reported a man hanging behind the Whirling." He looks around for a second and turns to the left, to the remains of a fence.
INLAND EMPIRE - Are *you* the man hanging there?
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - The mention of a corpse doesn't surprise or startle you.
LOGIC (failure) - Why doesn't it?! It's a surprise to me!
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - You've been doing this for too long to afford feeling shaken by death.
JEAN - "The union workers are on strike right now, maybe it ha-" He stops the moment he steps over the broken boards.
PERCEPTION - A redhaired teenager is throwing rocks at the mostly naked corpse hanging from a dead tree by a bright yellow cargo belt. A second redhaired teenager is cheering from behind the fence on the other side of the yard.
JEAN - "What the fuck??" He mumbles.
COMPOSURE (failure) - A surprised laugh escapes you.
JEAN - He glances at you and turns back to the teens. "HEY! GET OFF THE CRIME SCENE!"
EMPATHY - The children turn to look at you in unison and a chill runs down your spine.
JEAN - He approaches them. "This isn't a place for kids-"
THE DEMONS - They both look at eachother, back at Jean, and burst out laughing.
HALF-LIGHT - Grab Jean and run, you don't know what they're capable of!
AUTHORITY - Th- That's rediculous! You're a cop! You have a gun for fuck's sake!!
HAND-EYE COORDINATION - Yes, shoot the kids.
JEAN - "This is police buisness-"
THE DEVILS - The rock-thrower, a lanky boy with short hair answers with a sarcastic question, but your brain kinda just doesn't comprehend what he asked.
AUTHORITY - Shoot the kids!
HAND-EYE COORDINATION - Shoot the kids!!
HALF-LIGHT - SHOOT THE KIDS.
YOU - zone out, the screaming is getting real loud.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS (failre) - Shoot the kids!
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Shoot the kids.
CONCEPTUALISATION - Wait, where even is your gun?
REACTION SPEED (failure) - Uh, on you?
INTERFACING - You search your pockets, your belt, armpits, check the soles of your shoes for some reason, but you don't find any guns.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - WHERE'S THE GUN?!?
INTERFACING - I don't fucking... Uh-
ENCYCLOPEDIA - An officer of the RCM is provided a gun by their precinct-
RHETORIC - YES, YES, OBVIOUSLY, BUT WHERE IS IT?
VISUAL CALCULUS - I do not remember leaving or seeing a gun anywhere.
LOGIC (failure) - Waitwaitwait- stop the freaking out, ask Jean if you're *supposed* to have a gun.
HAND-EYE COORDINATION - Your hands know a gun.
VOLITION - Whatever stops you from spiraling.
YOU - catch up with Jean. "Heyheyhey so I need you for like a minute-"
AUTHORITY - Discuss this somewhere where two feral children can't hear you.
YOU - "to talk about something *very* secret, yes, let's go!"
YOU - spin around and *sprint* out of the yard.
JEAN - "What??" After a moment he starts walking after you. "What the fuck was that?"
YOU - stop in the middle of the square and turn to him.
COMPOSURE (failure) - You jump up and down with a very wide grin.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - I think a couple wires got crossed in your brain, people don't usually smile when they're this worried that they've fucked up.
EMPATHY - They do if they're trying to make it seem like not that big of a deal, to themselves or others.
JEAN - He stops in front of you and puts his hands on his hips again. "WHAT?"
YOU - "Ohokay, tell me, am I supposed to have a gun?" Still jumping.
JEAN - He looks at you like he's ready to give up on... if not everything, at least on this investigaion you haven't even properly started yet.
JEAN - "Yes...? Why?" He sighs.
YOU - stop jumping in horror.
VOLITION (failure) - Oh my goohohohOD, you *IDIOT!*
YOU - "...aha." Your smile looks painful.
JEAN - He raises his eyebrows. "Aha?"
YOU - "Okay."
DRAMA - We can save this! He doesn't have to know about the lack of a gun, that's none of his buisness!
YOU - (check: DRAMA - formidable) - LIE!!!
(check: failure)
YOU - "I have a gun. Just wanted you to know that."
PERCEPTION - Does your accent always flare like that when you're lying?
DRAMA - I didn't even notice we had an accent! This is sabotage!
JEAN - "That's great information, considering I already assumed you had one." His tone is deadpan.
DRAMA - He's onto us! Divert the conversation!
YOU - Why am I even trying to lie about this!? He could help!
HALF-LIGHT - And let him know what a fucking loser you are, losing your gun? Fuck no.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - He's your partner, what will you do when your life depends on him when you can't even trust him with this?
YOU - (check: COMPOSURE - medium) - Tell the truth.
(check: failure)
YOU - "Actually I don't, have my gun."
YOU - Wait I did fine, that's the truth-
RHETORIC - You said it like it was a lie, in the same voice and all. You've created a very confusing conversation.
DRAMA - I'm just trying to help, sire.
JEAN - He stares again, trying to figure out what the *hell* you're trying to do.
JEAM - "If you were serious, I'd slap you in the face."
HALF-LIGHT - Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit
ELECROCHEMISTRY - I wouldn't mind it.
RHETORIC - You like literally everything that can get a bit of chemistry into this shell of a body.
YOU - "I- don't do that, it's for your own good."
RHETORIC - And that sounded like you're implying he's gonna break his hand on your face.
YOU - "I'm not fucking joking- I don't have a gun!"
COMPOSURE (failure) - You're still smiling from nerves by the way, I can't help you.
YOU - "Goddamit-" You press your hands hard to your face.
JEAN - "Okay calm down-" He hesitantly puts a hand on your shoulder.
OUTSIDER - It crawls.
(Thought progress: THORNY FLESH - 17%)
+ 1 HALF-LIGHT: bite the hand that pets you
+ 1 OUTSIDER: They would't want your hands anyways.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Another cigarette?
INTERFACING - Only one left in your pocket.
YOU - Reach in and light it.
HAND-EYE COORDINATION - The concentration needed to handle a lighter AND hold a cigarette is calming.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - It's the nicotine.
JEAN - He's silent for a moment, thinking it over.
YOU - exhale the smoke to the side this time, not in his face.
INLAND EMPIRE - The wind doesn't apriciate you trying to be considerate, it blows it in his face.
-DETECTIVE ARRIVING ON THE SCENE 7-
HOUND is a skill that you should pretend has been here all along because i just came up with it
INLAND EMPIRE - The night is clear and the Whirling's hallway feels like it's clogging up your ears, the lights are tired.
JEAN'S DOOR - Your destination is the room right next to yours, or at least what was your room yesterday, today you couldn't pay the price and planned spending the night wandering around Martinaise.
ENDURANCE - You were doing pretty great, going strong, found something incredible! You simply couldn't resist running all the way back to Jean in the dead of night to share it with him.
VOLITION - No, thats's not it. I just decided it was unresonably dangerous leaving us on the loose. And I do not count as a capable adult.
VISUAL-CALCULUS - Come on, you gotta admit, my discovery is worth sharing.
JEAN'S DOOR - You stare at the white of Jean's door, it's made out of an uncertain material.
JEAN - The light from the window makes his head hurt, even if it's night. It's too blue and the curtains are too thin. He stares at it with all the anger constantly clinging to him, maybe trying to burn it.
JEAN - Suddenly he imagines what he looks like from the side, curled up a blanket a bit too small for him and with a ridicoulus fucking look on his face. A distaste spreads over his skin, and he wants to rub it away.
ESPIRIT-DE-CORPS - You came at a right time for once.
YOU - knock.
COMPOSURE (failure) - The knock is too quick and light, it's almost inaudible, like you hand didn't quite touch the door.
JEAN - He stops, completely.
YOU - Lean in closer to the door.
You scrunch your face and knock again, it's still jerky but at least a little louder.
ESPIRIT-DE-CORPS - He knows exactly where his gun is. He can feel it through the scrambled wood of the bedside drawer.
SUGGESTION - Allright, whoa, let him know it's you in as unthreatning a way as possible. Or he's putting a few holes through your corpse.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - I wouldn't mind that
AUTHORITY - You weren't even listening, whore.
YOU - WHOA okay we're not here for this argument
YOU - "Jean? Jeeeeeean.." Your voice sounds as hollow as a drum. The hallway is making everything look flat, it's making the edges of your vision turn to noise.
JEAN - He curses in relief and throws off his blanket with a bit too much passion.
JEAN'S DOOR - He opens the door, but only a crack, and squints at the bright lights with a groan.
HOUND - You immidietly stick you nose and entire face into the crack, and Jean flinches back a little.
(THRONY FLESH: Thought Progress 40%)
+ 1 HALF-LIGHT: bite the hand that pets you
+ 1 OUTSIDER: They would't want your hands anyways.
YOU - "I found something."
JEAN - "Okay, jesus fuck-" His voice is raspy and startlingly quiet.
JEAN - "I'm gonna crack your skull with this door again if you don't get your face out." He rubs his eyes with one hand, eyebrows already set furrowed as if they never even moved.
YOU - ignore him and percist. "I found tunnels. Under Martinaise. The sniper could've used them to hide and get away. There's guns in there, old guns, I just took a little peek, didn't want to go too far without you."
ESPIRIT-DE-CORPS - It felt unfair making huge discoveries without your partner.
JEAN - He leans his forehead on the doorframe with a thump and doesn't open his eyes, letting out a miserable sigh.
JEAN - "If it was literally any other time of day I would be happy, I promise."
DRAMA - Behind the reproach he feels a little regret he can niether feel or show a positive emotion right now.
(latest update: i did not continue latur)