029. Prose/Audio and ANNOUNCEMENT
[ooc: This is the LAST bit of tl;dr prose for this plot, I promise after this I won't be spamming anymore. XD;
Backdated to roughly five or so hours before the fog receded.
And hey, the lyrics don't have anything to do with the scene, but how about some appropriate listening material while you read?]
I AM NOT THE MUFFIN MAN.
This was pretty much the most coherent thought running through Heather’s head at the moment, and the realization of that fact both terrified and depressed her. Both because ONE, what the hell, here she was in mortal peril and her brain was spitting out nursery rhymes at her, and TWO, it was… well, it was true.
She could run, run, run as fast as she could, but the cold fact of the matter was that they could catch her.
The hounds.
Those damn hounds.
Their pursuit had been off and on since Silent Hill had come crawling into the world around her like some kind of sentient, Otherworldly pestilence, the chase occasionally broken up by a brief respite or some encounter with something even meaner (yeah, yeah, she knew what the shape of those friggin’ heads meant on the manties-wearing creeps that skittered around on the floor were, she’d TAKEN high school psychology, thanks, she didn’t need to be reminded), but somehow, it was always them who found her again and sent her sprinting, their howling echoing in her ears like sirens.
And those hounds, they just didn’t stop, they were STILL FREAKING COMING!
Maybe this was how the fox felt.
My kingdom for some goddamn beef jerky.
She didn’t know how long she’d been running, how many foes she’d been forced to stop and bludgeon or bite until she could get away, or even how long it had been since her roots had come cheerfully invading that happy new world she’d been in, like a nosy aunt who nobody likes and who stops by unannounced all the time, but her whole body was now screaming in protest every time her feet hit the ground, which had gone from damp pavement to even damper earth.
Yeah, she’d finally escaped the town-after god only knew how many dead ends, close calls, and tight places she’d had to squeeze out of and backtrack before the buildings had begun to be replaced by trees.
… Trees that were as tall, blank, and unrecognizable as the buildings were.
Was she going in circles, even now as she was banking between the trunks, leaping logs and skidding in hidden pockets of mud? No idea. She just had no idea.
And the fog…
…. It wasn’t fog anymore.
An eerie, warm brightness was glowing from between the tree-trunks like a luminous sunset, but Heather knew it was anything but, because her eyes were watering from the smoke. And that reek. That horrible smell you got when one of those huge moths flew into a lamplight and ignited before you could catch it and put it outside.
Except it was even worse, because she knew it wasn’t a moth.
She tried to ignore it for as long as possible, to keep running, because she knew the moment she faltered, the dogs would be on her, but-
“KAHAAAAAUUGHGHKKCH!”
The noise tore its way out of her throat as she fell to her knees mid-run, almost landing on her face in her mad rush to scrape up handfuls of mud to plaster over her burning skin, which was crackling before her very eyes, with squirmy little clots of red skittering up and down her arms like molten insects.
“No! No, no, no, NO D-DA-hhaAMMIT, NO! Stop! Stop, get off!”
She had to put it out before It woke up. Had to stop the pain before it made its way down deep and started that tiny, monstrous little heart beating again-
Too late.
It was a good thing the pain was so intense, because Heather was certain that the sounds she was making weren’t even fit for the seven-year-old she’d been when this had first happened, much less the grown damn adult she was now. And she’d just have felt even worse if she’d been able to hear them.
Gagging, she scrabbled frantically at the mud, trying to find something, anything-to swallow, to make it get OUT, but it was no use.
The locket was empty, the red crystal had been used a year ago, and now it was tearing its way out of her just like it did to Claudia, like one of those fucking Chestbursters in the damn Alien movies-shatter her ribcage and gnaw through her hide to escape- well FINE, she’d just HELP it then, and maybe claw its disgusting little HEAD off in the process-
There was a snarl behind her and suddenly she was knocked sprawling before she could start tearing at her own skin like some kind of rabid animal-probably a blessing, actually, jesus, had she actually thought that was a good idea?
Lifting her head from the mud with a weak groan, she saw them through the hot, shimmering air (and the tears streaming from her eyes)-the Hounds. Of course they’d caught up with her. She’d known they would. Gritting her teeth, she made an indistinct threatening noise at them and one-handedly clawed up some mud to hurl. It didn’t even come close to hitting any of them. Pathetic.
The biggest dog stepped forward, its two quivering nose-halves sucking in air with a sound like steam engine revving up.
She could see her own fate written in those blank, empty eyes and it disgusted her to realize how terrified she was.
I don’t wanna die.
“GO AWAY!” she screamed hoarsely, trembling as her muscles once again decided to crimp up in agony all at once. “GO AWAY!”
The Hounds’ gaping maws hung open in a grotesque mockery of a doggy smile, and the now-present flickering firelight made it look as though they were laughing silently as they began to close in.
Heather shut her eyes.
Suddenly, a new sound broke the smoke-filled air-more baying. But this was-different.
And then, out of practically nowhere, another Double-Head-smaller than the ones surrounding her, came flying onto the scene, snapping and snarling at the rest with a ferocity Heather had never before seen from one of them that wasn’t directed at HER.
But… it was… it was fighting the others…
What the…?
The gut-churning agony of the thing inside her returned and Heather tipped onto her side, curling up into a ball out of pure instinct, because she couldn’t even fathom somehow getting her limbs to do anything OTHER than tuck themselves up close to the rest of her body like a dying insect.
Through the painful haze sputtering in and out of her vision, she saw the split-headed hounds lunging at one another-or no, it was that ONE, just that one, throwing itself at all the rest- until her eyesight started to darken-
… No. Wait.
That was the forest.
As the Hounds fled, the orange light started to seep away, back into the murky white-blue of the fog. And as the fog returned, the pain began to fade away. Not all of it… but THAT pain, yes. It was going away. How…?
When the baying filtered out of hearing range completely, Heather couldn’t bring herself to move. She just … laid there for a moment, sides heaving like a snared rabbit’s, until she was able to force herself to sloooowly sit up off the ground.
About ten feet away sat the hound that had come to her rescue.
It looked exactly like the others-mottled, putrid skin, rotten, maggot-infested bandages, and a face that looked like someone had sawed it in half with a breadknife.
But it was just sitting there, whining quietly with its mutilated head ticked to one side. Watching her.
Heather stared back warily for a moment, jumbled thoughts running through her head like out-of-control trains.
Then it hit her.
“… You,” she said hoarsely.
~*~
Around five hours before the fog receded, your character may or may not have received a short but slightly disturbing audio clip from Heather's PokeGear that consisted mainly of frantic barking, what sounds like a girl screaming something about fire, and something that sounds like "GET OFF OF ME!" ... or is it "GET OUT OF ME!"? It's hard to tell...
After that, there is nothing.
ANNOUNCEMENT: THE IC.
-Well, gosh. For all sakes and purposes, Heather seems to have disappeared. Attempts to contact her PokeGear seem to be met only with thin static, blipping, or error messages, and, save for the assorted encounters of varying bizarreness in Violet City, the last time she was seen was about twelve hours before the fog started to disperse.
-A warrant has been issued for her arrest and sent out on the network (along with probably dozens of other warrants for other people, given the amount of chaos that was wreaked), on the counts of carrying a weapon, physical assault, destruction of property, and resisting arrest. A somewhat crappy (but recognizable) photograph, along with her full name (Heather Mason), are included. AKA she hasn't been arrested yet so the police apparently don't know where the heck she is, either.
-Likewise, Cujo is nowhere to be found. 8(
THE OOC:
-Unsurprisingly, this means that for the time being, Heather will not be responding to any messages or transmissions that occur after this log (although by all means feel free to backtag to that if you still want to participate!)
Likewise, your character is also perfectly free to try and get a message through to her, they just... won't be receiving any replies yet.
-That's 'bout it. KEEP BEIN' AWESOME, GUYS. Sorry for spamming so much during this plot!