sadfreezingbrit_archive | Philip LaFresque and Jack Daniel's depressing day in the kitchen [29/??? artefacts collected]

Entry tags:

Philip LaFresque and Jack Daniel's depressing day in the kitchen [29/??? artefacts collected]

[ And then this happened and Philip was back in his body. Just like that. Just... like that.

Not that the time off was a breeze, oh no. The things he said to some people, the things Clarence did, but... there are the things he didn't do. The things he could've done so easily and yet--

And yet Philip is back in his body and nobody is hurt. Nobody is dead.

But the conclusions he's supposed to draw from this...

He takes a sip of whiskey. His first empty bottle now and quite likely not his last. That's how everyone will find him during the day: Sitting in the kitchen. Sipping on glass after glass, trying to make sense of what the hell happened in those past five days.

...Only later in the afternoon has he finally made his mind up about some things, leading to the following three audio transmissions: ]

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO DEAN]

Hey, I just... wanted to say that I'm- I'm back. I...

[ And then he hangs up, because everything else he wants to say is just so far out of his mental reach now, it's not even funny. ]

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO SANTANA]

Er, about... about the last time we talked, I think... there's something I think- I think I ought to tell you. Can we- Could we meet up someplace if you've got a moment? Please? Thanks.

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO BEISTE]

...Um, Shan-- Coach? I just... I just wanted to apologise for everything I-- for the last time we talked. That was after-- I wasn't... exactly myself then. I'm really sorry.

[[OOC: Slightly pre-dated to early afternoon on the 10th]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[This would be arguably easier if Philip wasn't so resistant about talking in the first place. There are a lot of things about Evelyn's encounter with Clarence that upset her. The fact that he got her drunk, the fact that he had been so close to taking advantage of her, the feeling of vulnerability in practically being violated by a stranger.

He could have killed her. There were so many chances.

But he didn't get control of the body all by himself. Viruses aren't that clever at navigating loopholes in the system.]

What happened?

[Evelyn thinks it would be better to sit down and talk about this, but she doesn't have the heart to prolong the inevitable an extra ten seconds just to take a seat at the kitchen table.]

You disappeared after the last event, and when you came back it wasn't even you.

[ He was ready for questions. Any questions. Any question but that one.

...Philip doesn't feel guilty. Not this time. Not the way he did when he foolishly listened where he shouldn't have, when he invited the virus in when it was as simple as not opening the door.

But this time? He remembers little, but it feels like the hinges were creaking, as if Clarence was nothing but the disease he loathes to be called and Philip's body was simply too weak to fight him off.

He remembers little, but what little he remembers still sends a chill down his spine.

Philip takes the extra ten seconds which Evelyn refused. He walks back to the table and sits down, one of his hands wrapped around the other. ]

I died, I guess I didn't take it so well.

[I didn't take it so well appears to be the understatement of the century. She follows Philip with her eyes first - body second - and sits next to him, rather than on the other side of the table.

So...he died. He became some sort of miserable wreck. Unfortunately, Miserable Wreck is Phase I, Clarence is Phase III, and Evelyn has no pen with which to draw a line between them. He was vulnerable and said yes? He offered? He gave in?]

You were scared?

[It's something of a rhetorical question, but Evelyn is having a hard time deciphering exactly what it was that left Philip with no other choice besides Clarence.

Or perhaps he didn't have a choice at all.]

Could you see what he- what he did?

[ Philip looks at her and slowly shakes his head, although whether that's an unconscious response to the sitting arrangement or a somewhat deliberate reply to her somewhat rhetorical question may not be entirely clear.

Truth to be told it could very well be both. Scared certainly doesn't cut it, certainly doesn't even compare.

...Philip has a hard time deciphering it himself, but he is not about to volunteer what little he still remembers. Sometimes sharing doesn't have anything to do with won't, sometimes it's as simple as a cuttingly painful can't. ]

...I could. Everything.

[ Now that question is one he actually can answer. ]

I told you he'd--

[ Philip stops himself. That look of panic in his eye, that level of terrified urgency in his voice... it should perhaps be reserved for a confrontation with a more severe outcome, but then again... the thought alone is enough. More than enough.

Breathing heavily he looks away, his body slightly swaying back and forth. ]

Edited 2011-11-12 06:04 (UTC)

[Everything.

The implicit faith she had, the drinking, the kissing, the expression on her face when Clarence introduced himself, Honey, I'm home. Evelyn's impression of the virus was certainly terrifying, there's no arguing that, but-]

But he didn't.

[She's as surprised as he is - less so, maybe, since Philip knows the extent of Clarence's creative, recreational activities - albeit not nearly as wary.]

What do you want me to say, Philip? I was wrong, you were right?

[No, sorry, that's just not going to work. The lack of communication here is the real problem.]

That's rich coming from someone who couldn't be bothered to make a single call, to leave one message, when I left you nearly a dozen.

[ Almost choking on the air he could breathe again he ran outside. Ran and ran until he stopped on the beach; disoriented, confused. When he'd calmed down he reached for his transmission device because Dean said he would get them because Dean said they would be next because he had to--

He saw the blood on his hands, on everything, remembered how it got there, remembered his last transmission and its reason and its aftermath and everything everything everything

After that he didn't get a chance to call, whether he'd wanted to or not.

He wanted to. He thinks he wanted to. He'd like to think that he wanted to.

But he didn't. And to remember why is upsetting. To have her imply that this is about being right or wrong is upsetting. ]

This has nothing to do with-- Maybe I didn't bother because you can't grasp that this is actually dangerous and I'm out of ideas how to get this into your head!

[ ...Oh.

Oh, wait. That was... that was not such a good...

Oh god. ]

[If Evelyn knew the story - the whole story, and nothing but the story - she would probably be a bit less harsh in her judgment. Dean is just a name to her, the blood on the dining hall floor was so much more real, and Philip...

...Philip is being a complete arse.

His words strike her like a slap to the face, and Evelyn blinks once, twice, stunned speechless. Out of everything else, that...that upsets her the most. His silence, a form of protection. That's all well and good despite the bone she has to pick, but his delivery is awful.]

Oh, I see. So in keeping me ignorant, you hoped to keep me safe. [Whatever vaguely indulgent smile she was sporting disappears.] Ignorance is not bliss, and half-truths are just as bad as lies.

[Her hands are shaking.

Evie wrings them in her lap, hoping it will make them stop.]

You just- [She laughs, but it sounds more like a sob.

Evelyn can hardly finish what she was going to say, because the nausea has come back and everything is hurting.]

...you are scared.

[ The regret he felt about his harsh tone is instantly shattered, because she still doesn't understand.

What she is saying rings true, but when applied to the two of them its expiration date has passed, because he told her about Clarence, he told her everything and she is the one still ignorant of the implications.

He isn't hiding anything now, he couldn't be more open about it. A relationship with him is a ticket towards a horrible death. A relationship with him means she will die and he is running out of ways to say so, because she refuses to see it.

Only when he tries again his tone fails to convey the earlier urgency, brash as it may have been. In fact his tone fails to convey much of anything other than the lump stuck in his throat.

At least she couldn't have been more spot-on about one thing. ]

You don't know what he made me do to the others.

[ He is scared. Dead scared. ]

No, I don't.

[Evelyn understands as well enough as any average individual from the 1920s can: not very well at all, in fact. Any methods of torture that might spring to mind (and they don't) are relegated to the only ones she has remote familiarity with as opposed to intimate knowledge. Instruments of the Spanish Inquisition, Medieval dungeon practises, ancient Egyptian corporal punishment.]

Because you won't tell me.

[Because he's so wrapped up in his guilt that there's scarcely room for anything else.]

The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any. And that's not true.

[The most frustrating part of this may be that Philip is of the opinion that he's helpless. But from what Evelyn can glean of the man's prior experiences with Clarence is that he was only ever in a vulnerable state when it happened.

From what she hears, horrible deaths are a dime-a-dozen in the mansion. Not that Evie is willing to wait in line at the chopping block, but there's almost less to fear.]

You always have a choice. Sometimes it's just easier to think that you don't.

[ Many statements are open to interpretation; interpretation which is coloured by the listener's perception, his experiences and assumptions, his hopes and fears.

The listener is Philip. His perception does not lead to encouragement gained from Evie's words. His perception leads to where he just talked about what Clarence "made him do" to which Evie responded that there is always a choice.

...On the one hand that should be cause for celebration, a step up from her refusing to acknowledge that he is best avoided.

On the other hand she just flat-out informed him that he is a murderer and torturer and now he sort of finds it a little hard to breathe. ]

I d-- I wasn't- I didn't want...

[ Granted, he was going to wait until reaching an appropriate age to have her bring him to tears, but one or two in advance can't hurt.

Staring at Evie in disbelief he slowly inches away from her. ]

Why...are you...?

[Referring to something more along the lines of "you don't have to live in fear when you're the one with the body and the will", Evelyn doesn't really realise that Philip has completely misunderstood her until he starts moving away.

Backpedaling frantically - because that was not the sort of response she was expecting - Evie's face falls. Really, really far.

The only explanation is that he misinterpreted her words to suit the worst case scenario.]

No! No, I didn't- That's not what I meant, I- I-

[Oh God. Oh God, she broke everything, and now all she wants to do is cry. How Philip could believe she would ever say something so hurtful is beyond her, but the more pressing issue at hand is the way her sight is getting blurry and her eyes are prickling.]

Philip, I would never- You...it was never your fault. Y-You don't deserve all the awful things that have happened to you, you deserve a real life and happiness a-and a reprieve from your grief, I know it's hard for you and- and that I can't possibly understand, because I don't know what that's like. I don't know what it's like to live in constant fear, I- I just know that it's something that you shouldn't have to suffer alone.

[Then Evelyn falls silent, a single hand pressed to one cheek as she looks away, terrified and taking shallow breaths to catch up on all the air she just lost.]

[ Philip's expression falters as he listens, but once the gist of her clarification is clear he lets out an incredulous laugh of disbelief, both at his original assumption and his current urge to so desperately believe every word she's saying.

The laugh turns into a choked sob and he presses a clenched hand to his lips, because otherwise that one will be far from the last.

Breathing heavily he doesn't quite dare to unclench his teeth, even if he knew how to respond now. ]

I thought he'd- he'd kill you...

[ That's the first thing that comes to his mind. That's what it's like.

That is... why suffering alone seems like a legitimate option. ]

{ Probably would have if you'd told me you were gonna turn this into a sap fest no matter what I do to her. }

Edited 2011-11-12 10:08 (UTC)

He didn't, though. I'm right- I'm right here.

[Whatever freakish act of benevolence gave Evie another chance at life, she isn't about to squander it by fighting with someone she genuinely cares for. With a careful step forward (because now he's skittish), she reaches out for one of Philip's hands...but the gesture falls short. At this moment, the only thing she's scared of is the possible lack of reciprocation.

But he's so stubborn that he can't realise that doing this alone is what's worst for him. When you can't run, you crawl. When you can't do that...you just have to find someone to help carry you.

The question is whether Philip wants to live with forgiveness and a vague feeling of regret, or self-loathing and bitter remorse.]

If you don't believe you have something worth fighting for, you might as well surrender. Anyone can give up; it's the easiest thing in the world to do. Don't be anyone.

[But keeping it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart? That's real strength.]

Edited 2011-11-12 17:34 (UTC)

[ There's a slight twitch, but then his hand neither withdraws nor moves at her touch, lost in contemplation that does not yet allow for such a decision.

Philip didn't give up in Greenland. He kept pressing on and on and sometimes he wonders if that's the worst thing he could've done. He wonders if that door was better left closed and sometimes he finds it hard to decide.

But Greenland was one kind of movie. Greenland had a steep story arc and a dramatic score. The heroic lead was to find answers, face adversity and come out on top. Find the damsel in distress, kill the bad guys, cure infection, save the world. Venturing boldly onwards is easy when you actually have a goal to venture towards.

But Wonderland is a different kind of movie entirely. No car chases, no falling rocks, only violins and the soft voices of a choir while the lead is shackled to a hospital bed. The only plot is degeneration, the greatest victory they cast can hope for is acceptance and dealing with it. There is only coping, no escape.

...But there is coping and--

You always have a choice.

And victories are scarce enough that even- that especially the small ones shouldn't be dismissed and treated almost equal to defeat.

Philip's breathing slowly evens.

Like most medications Evie's words take a while to kick in, but once they finally do there is something that rings truer to them than he would have thought.

He looks at her sceptically, though not without a small nod of acknowledgement. ]

But is- is that really... what you want?

[ By that he means the hand he's finally tightening around hers.

Motivational speech for a more general purpose aside, he... he isn't sure if he could bring himself to make the same choice if their roles were reversed. ]

[The word coping is an elegant, passive way of saying that there's no other choice. And there isn't - not really, not here, where the deaths don't even count and passing the time is like watching an hourglass funnel an infinite number of grains of sand into a neat little pile.

Nothing changes except for the people, even if they don't change for good.

Then there is the question of wanting. There are so few opportunities to be genuinely happy in the real world that finding anything close to it in Wonderland is nothing short of a miracle.]

...the only time you run out of chances is when you stop taking them.

[Exhaling shakily, she squeezes his hand back in relief. Hang the danger and throw caution to the wind. It isn't just Evelyn's stubbornness in the way, either.

Determined to find good - actual good - in this place, facing something that has the potential to backfire horribly and refusing to back down might be just enough of a push to lend strength to someone else.]

I know the consequences, and I've accepted them. Can you do the same?

[ Reckless is putting it mildly, but Philip is not about to elaborate on why he still thinks her choice could be a huge mistake, not when it's one of the best mistakes that could possibly happen to him here.

Philip is not noble. When it looks like his only choice is letting go or being abandoned then he would rather be the first to decide and take his dignity home as the consolation prize.

But when the only other offer on the table is self-sacrifice without reward then... well, then the choice suddenly seems a whole lot easier, doesn't it?

Philip nods. ]

I...

[ Mature relationships are not perfect love stories. They are two people appreciating each other for their best and accepting each other despite their worst.

In his old life Philip came to understand that soon. In this world he has yet to grasp why anyone would be willing to work with a worse that is very evidently so much bigger and graver than theirs.

...But until he finds the answers to that he thinks he can choose to just run with it. ]

I will.

[ His other hand reaches for hers. There's been too great a lack of determination and maybe it's about time he makes up for it. ]

Good.

[Will is greater than can, and whether Philip used the stronger word intentionally or not, the fact that he used it at all is a small comfort. Should something go wrong she stands to lose quite a lot, but it doesn't seem as daunting as it ought to.

There's so much time in Wonderland, and people still come and go. Perhaps she just doesn't want to miss the opportunity to tell those people how much they mean to her.

Evie steps in closer and cranes up on her tip-toes, using Philip's hands as leverage to kiss his cheek. Easing herself back down, she smiles.]

That was only a little hard, wasn't it?

[ Granted, Philip's gone longer without smiling than that, but it's still a nice surprise he didn't expect for today. ]

You're--

[...worth the effort, what the hell?! ]

[ Meanwhile, on the kitchen's metallic fridge... ]

[ WHY YOU LITTLE-- ]

[ ...never mind. Never mind that now. Deeps breaths. Deeeeep breaths. ]

Um, maybe we-- Do you want to go somewhere else?

[ Somewhere without reflective surfaces, maybe? B| ]

[She follows his gaze to the refrigerator, processes the information, refuses to let the blood rush to her cheeks, and rolls her eyes.

She has had just about enough of the pervert.]

Yes. Please. Any place away from the voyeur, thank you.

[Evelyn frowns at the refrigerator.]

...Do they really have nothing better to do?

Philip LaFresque and Jack Daniel's depressing day in the kitchen [29/??? artefacts collected]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

Re: 2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/5

2/5

3/5

4/5

5/5

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)