[There's a face on the screen, and it might take a moment to be recognizable. It's Arlen, but his expression is much darker than it would normally be. There are deep purple shadows under his eyes and his hair is an unruly mess, his face heavily unshaven. Bloodshot eyes are staring straight at the camera ( Read more... )

GOD. DAMMIT ( Read more... )

[no matter who you are, when you wake up this morning, it'll be to a furious pounding on your front door, or the doorbell being jabbed repeatedly. Maybe you answer the door by yourself, or maybe your roommate or lover or parent or whoever you live with came in to tell you that someone is asking for you, but whatever the case when you eventually ( Read more... )

[the communicator is thrown haphazardly onto the bed, and the feed is at an angle and shows Arlen drawing, his features pulled into a look of intense concentration. On the large sketchpad in front of him is a mostly finished charcoal drawing of a little girl, smiling happily with the clear representation of sunlight in her hair even in simple black ( Read more... )

[the feed clicks on to complete darkness, and then Arlen turns on a flashlight and shines it around. The communicator is lying on the floor near Arlen, who is lying flat on his back and he doesn't look amused. It's clear from his surroundings that he's at the bottom of... an elevator shaft]

Why is the elevator supposed to come up before the door ( Read more... )

[the feed shows Arlen surrounded by bright lights. He's in front of the merry-go-round with a bag of cotton candy in one hand and a frog sitting on top of his head. Pyramid Head, of all people, is standing beside him, holding his spear and just looking generally as irritated as a man with no face can look ( Read more... )

[Arlen is standing at the edge of the woods with the communicator facing him, so you can see his face. However, there is a noticeable difference in him; he has wrinkles. Not a lot of them, but some, and some gray peppered in his hair, too. He's at least fifty and it shows ( Read more... )

[Arlen doesn't bother locking the feed. He's not a very private guy, not at all. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, sketching vague shapes onto an enormous canvas that he's got propped up on an ugly-as-all-hell makeshift easel he fashioned from broken gurneys he found at the hospital in October. The communicator is situated in his lap so the ( Read more... )

[the feed shows Arlen sitting on his bed. He's finally actually started living out of his apartment rather than his personal corner of the hospital. He looks cheerful ( Read more... )

[the feed shows Arlen sitting on the floor against a wall, a huge sword sitting across his lap and an even bigger grin on his face. How the hell he got the heavy sword all the way up to wherever he is now is a mystery, as the sky is visible through the window behind him ( Read more... )