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deercountry2022-10-13 05:17 pm
hearthebell) wrote in deercountry2022-10-13 05:17 pm
The Clock Froze Around Midnight, I Can Feel It In The Room [October Catchall, OTA]
Who: L Lawliet (Lazarus Sauveterre) and CR old and new
What: Catchall for October; includes event prompts and slice of life wildcards.
When: Throughout the month, dates are ambiguous unless otherwise noted
Where: Various places in Trench (flexible unless specifically noted)
[October is a season of change and loss, and in Trench, it’s not really any different. L nevertheless feels a sense of restlessness that manifests in snappishness and irritability; exceeding what usually visits him in the ambivalent season of his birth.
He goes about his business anyway, keeping to his own odd schedules and doings in a mostly solitary routine. He avoids contact with others this month, not least because the typically stoic detective is struggling to discern when his mood will shift and his tears might start flowing and refuse to stop.
It’s better, perhaps, to guard what he’s always known to be raw in a month where he can feel it so keenly and plaintively.]
What: Catchall for October; includes event prompts and slice of life wildcards.
When: Throughout the month, dates are ambiguous unless otherwise noted
Where: Various places in Trench (flexible unless specifically noted)
[October is a season of change and loss, and in Trench, it’s not really any different. L nevertheless feels a sense of restlessness that manifests in snappishness and irritability; exceeding what usually visits him in the ambivalent season of his birth.
He goes about his business anyway, keeping to his own odd schedules and doings in a mostly solitary routine. He avoids contact with others this month, not least because the typically stoic detective is struggling to discern when his mood will shift and his tears might start flowing and refuse to stop.
It’s better, perhaps, to guard what he’s always known to be raw in a month where he can feel it so keenly and plaintively.]
Midnight
He seems to have accepted this. In a liminal, jittery place between swallowing the drugs he takes to dreamwalk on demand and far too much caffeine for them to work as intended, he does wonder if he’s slipped into unconsciousness when he sees a black-clad, weeping woman making her slow and drifting way toward him along the beach.
He's fascinated by her movements, and starts to stand with the intention of closing the distance between them and going to her, but she vanishes in a curl of smoke at the approach of a large, mechanical shape lumbering along the dark shoreline to meet him.
L regards Cloverfield with something like reproach, but it's more reluctant and wistful than cruel or cold.]
I thought you only looked for lost things.
[Cloverfield doesn’t answer, just settles beside him, a hulking shelter against the chill L wouldn’t be dressed for, save for a few considerate Sleepers who noticed his reliable unpreparedness for the weather. His coat and scarf are sufficient.]
I didn’t want to be found, so you know. There’s nothing “blessed” about this day, and there’s not much I want to remember at all, so you should save your gift.
[Cloverfield offers it anyway, with the earnestness and simplicity of a child offering a flower to a beloved parent. L sets his jaw and looks away, but the sleeve of his coat passes across his stinging eyes, stifling a wet, snuffling inhalation.]
Thank you. This means a lot to me... I’ll cherish it.
[He reaches out for the stone, closing his fingers around it, trying to feel grateful, however much he wishes that Cloverfield could help him forget, instead.
He can only think of one thing he wants to remember forever. On the 26th anniversary of the day he was born, he’ll think of it often as it crystalizes in the stone perfectly, the moment someone cared enough to flay the flesh from his bones and undo him wholly with hatred that was powerful and, most importantly, real and true. Finally, he manages to sleep, holding his death close.]