[BPRD] Slaughterhouse, pt 6 [P 2.6, J 2.6]

edited December 2012 in In-Game
Penny and Joe,

The two of you are in Penny's head. There's a fuzzy feeling in each of you that you know this to be true, but then there are all these emotions and worries and fears and memories swirling it around. Like a dream where you're damn sure it is a dream but damned if you can do anything about it.

Penny, what does Joe see right now?


  • Well this is odd.

    I meant to look in Joe's mind and then everything changed again like we're on an old Hollywood movie set and someone is changing the backdrop. I would like to find that someone and give them a piece of my mind. Except I have a nagging suspicion that this time at least, I'm to blame.

    I mean, that's my hunch anyways. And I think it's a pretty good one since we're standing in the yard of a pale yellow house with green shutters and a white picket fence. There is a big, wrap-around porch on the front with a swing. The yard is large and impossibly green.

    It's a nice house, a cozy looking house, but it only exists in my head.

    I made this house a long time ago. I was so tired of not knowing. I was so tired of being told it was my fault that I couldn't remember, and I just had to try harder. So I built this house here in my head, hoping that maybe if I made the perfect normal home, the memories of my mother would return to live here. I spent so much time making everything just right. Perfecting every tiny detail. And then I waited. I waited for so long, trying to picture her materializing on the porch swing, or watching tv in the livingroom, or sitting at the dining room table with me, but the house stayed empty. And after a while, I started hating this house. I hated the empty halls. I hated the silence. I hated that it, just like everything else, had failed to bring back a single memory, a single image of my mother. I almost destroyed it, but in the end, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. So it stayed.

    Now I'm standing in the front yard with He Who May or May Not Be Joe, and I'm slightly flabbergasted. I don't want visitors here, and not just because I haven't dusted in a couple years. This place, this place is mine.
  • Joe,

    That's what you see, you're in a front yard of a cozy little house, but the edges of everything seems fuzzy, like you're in some dream.

    What do you do?
  • I hold Penny for a moment longer to provide her—and myself—some courage and comfort. Resting my head on hers, my eyes become heavy. I'm startled awake. I know it didn't happen but it was as though I had fallen asleep and woken up by my own snoring. Sandovol's complex is replaced with a house that looks like it came out of a picture from the 50s. It's not like a real house. A fresh pale yellow paint job and green shutters and white picket fence.  A bright green lawn and big swing on the wraparound porch. It looks like something out of a movie...or a dream. Not my dream. We didn’t have these kinds of houses on the Rez but we saw them on tv.
    I look at Penny quizzically but she is lost somewhere. I need to find out what is going on here. Before leaving Penny’s side, I slip a rabbit’s foot into her jacket pocket, just in case. In case of what, I didn’t want to consider. I walk to the gate; next to it is an old-fashioned mailbox. I pull down the door, tugging as it sticks just a little. I peer inside but it is empty. I shut the box and open the gate. Like the mailbox door, it did not rest perfectly on its hinges, and it wobbled and creaked slightly as it swung open. I walked silently up the walkway. I attempt to peer through the lattice skirting and into the shadows. I ascend the steps staying to the left hand side to reduce the chances of alerting anyone that may be inside. Up on the deck I cup my hands and try to look inside through the windows. I turn back to at the tree in the front yard and then look over at Penny. Why is it so quiet here?
  • That Old Black Magic

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • I'll ask what happened here?
  • I'm a lawn statue. I just stand there, watching Joe walk around, opening things, looking into windows. I want to say "don't" but lawn statues have lungs full of concrete and lips that can't move.

    Joe, you're in Penny's head. This house exists inside her mind, and it's similar to your perception of such houses. You know somehow that Penny has never had a house like this either, and what you're seeing is based on tv and movies and descriptions in books. It's just a little too perfect, but at the same time, slightly off. Everything is silent, but not just quiet. It's like everything here is hushed, waiting, expectant. Not for you. This house has been waiting for someone else. You can sense that Someone Else, but there are no details, no images, no memories. There's just a name: Helen Snow. Sometimes that name shifts into "Mom."

    While the house looks nice, it has an eerie feeling of abandonment. No one has been here for a long time. There is anger and despair and a desperate sort of sadness crafted into the very foundation of this place. The air around you is heavy with emotion, like it's about to rain.
  • I realize that the fleeting thought I had that this was a dream was close to the truth. Not quite a dream, not quite a memory, but a home in Penny's mind. Not a home, I correct myself, a house. It is too still, too quiet, too full of longing to be a home.

    I don't want to go inside. I don't want to violate her privacy. I walk back down the steps into the too green lawn. Though, perhaps, I can do something here to make it a bit more inviting. Maybe bring this place a step away from sadness. I take out and cup in my hands a small wooden warble whistle. I will conjure a small golden songbird to bring some life and music to this place so it can be a home for the memories of her mother.
  • Use Magic

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • edited December 2012
    As the sound of the whistle drifts away, I bring my hands away from my face but I keep them cupped. I realize I am holding my breath as I wait for the song to do its magic. Within moments I feel a soft warm body, and I open my hands. The finch flutters its wings and hops through the air towards the eaves. I look back at Penny and say, "It's time to go. Our friends need us. "

    I hastily walk over to Penny the lawn statue. The thick, lush grass springs back up revealing no trace of where I'd stepped. I start chanting the words that will take us out of this eerie, if peaceful, place, back to the real world. Hopefully back in time to endure the safety of our comrades against Sandivol.
  • Use Magic

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • edited December 2012
  • I have a strange feeling that perhaps Joe understands more about this place than he is letting on. He didn't even try to go inside the house. Instead he gave me a present. My eyes are on the pretty golden finch. It looks like a tiny piece of sunshine. Maybe it will break up the gray clouds that always seem to hang overhead.

    I am very glad that he's not asking me to explain.

    Really, it's very nice of him. I mean, if you got sucked away into a strange place that didn't seem quite like real life, would you demand an explanation? Most people would. Most people like to understand things. If I tried to understand everything, well, they really would have to take me back to the asylum.

    When Joe says that it's time to leave. I realize I'm not a lawn statue anymore. I nod my head without the sound of concrete cracking. I start walking towards him without having to pull my feet up out of the earth. He's right. Blake and Dr. Eaton need us.
  • The two of you step back into your selves, in the dank room. The door is gone, you see sunlight outside streaming down the hall, like a big door was opened wide. Go here.
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