twinsanity: (Not with the likes of you)
[Alfred has been a bit...absent for the last week.

It's not unheard of for him to disappear for long periods at a time, vanishing behind the closed doors of that house he owns in Goldenrod; he's been known to have his reclusive spells, and for all intents and purposes this probably hasn't seemed much different. Granted, it's a longer period of time than he usually goes without being present in the Rocket labs – he's usually in there once every few days at least and he's been taking far more of an interest in chemistry than is really healthy lately – but altogether speaking it isn't abnormal, either.

The abnormal part kicks in when his video feed goes active today.

It's not terribly well set-up, though it doesn't seem like an accidental broadcast, either; the angle is just careless, aimed a bit too low to really give anyone a good idea of what they're looking at, but there's the usual red jacket and the shoulder guard and the medals, and once in a while one of his hands flicking across the screen where it comes in full view of the camera.

His breath is shaking a bit when he draws it in; it sounds almost like there's a laugh behind his words when he finally speaks, but it doesn't seem...right. The way he's speaking in general doesn't seem right, really - a bit too uncontrolled, a bit too high and pitchy and strange.]


So I'm going to assume that this particular week-long bout of sleep was just me...

[He laughs again, under his breath; it's closer to tittering than anything.]

That wasn't very nice of this place, now, was it? Why, it got my hopes up for nothing...I didn't even get to fight anything good, just –

[And he cuts himself off then; hesitates. Adjusts the angle of the camera so he's a bit more clearly seen. He's raking his hand back through his hair as he does so; it looks like he's been repeating that gesture a lot, given that he's far more disheveled than he ever allows himself to be on-camera.

His gaze is what's a bit worrying; it's oddly unfocused, a sense of distance there that isn't usually, not on days where anything's right in his head at all.

His words are still retaining that rushed, manic tone when he continues.]


Tell me, tell me – what's the last thing you remember before coming here? I'm sure you have some sort of story, just because no one here doesn't.

I didn't think I did, not really; apparently I was mistaken about that.
twinsanity: (Default)
[A - Daytime.]

[After the first night in the castle, Alfred has been way over on the subdued side; he's been avoiding most people and he's jumpy as hell when approached. The armory was disappointing - he's strictly a ranged-weapon sort of person, though at the same time he found that it's quite stupid for him to not take anything; he's got daggers on him for the time being, and if all else absolutely fails throwing one's blades is always an option, albeit a stupid one.

During the day, he's been spending a lot of time in that star chamber; he finds it calming, relaxing in ways he can't really explain, and his willingness to leave it is reasonably low. Oh, he's seen two sigil doors, and he's aware of the pink mark on the back of his hand; that doesn't mean he knows what to do with the damn things.]



[B - Nighttime.]

[At night, however...

There's a thing that's been in the corner of his vision since the first night - never really advancing, but always present. When he can see it properly, it resembles a man with arms that end in claws and wrapped up in a shroud, an enlarged, exposed heart just visible through tears in the fabric, pulsating slow and steady; whenever he turns to look, it's never really there, but as soon as it fades he can hear the screaming - the nails-on-chalkboard sound ripping out of the creature's own throat, accompanied by a higher-pitched sound that's most definitely a woman, and none of it is anything he really wants to dwell on.

One of these nights, he snaps; it's in the crystal study, and he's backed up against one of the cases, breathing heavily and shaking, and while the thing doesn't seem about to attack him, it is getting rather close.]


I-I didn't do anything but what you deserved...I gave you what you deserved!

[The thing snarls at him; he's quick to jerk back, rattling the case behind him hard.]

I don't know what you want from me - I did...I did what I was supposed to...

[And he's feeling for the dagger at his side, but he doesn't seem quite able to grip it properly, much less do anything useful with it.]

Didn't I?!

[...It's a bit hard to know what in the good fuck he's going on about; either way, however, it's clearly not good...]



[OOC - take your pick on whatever you want to do with this one, and if you want to go with something else entirely I'm good for that as well; just specify A, B or whatever it is you want in the comment subject!

ALSO if you need a pink sigil, this idiot's got one.]
twinsanity: (You don't know me like you really should)
[There's an anonymous text hitting the network sometime after the clock rolls over to the fourteenth of the month; it's one of those hours that's either extremely early or extremely late, depending on one's point of view. The ID is an unknown one, of the sort that's obviously hacked-together but poorly-done; at the same time, its owner isn't exactly caring about quality right now.]

If anyone is still alive, send me something. A message, a story, some stupid file you have lying around, I don't care. Some sort of contact. Who I am doesn't matter. I don't care if we've never spoken before.

Just send me something. Anything.

Please.

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Alfred Ashford

September 2020

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