sadfreezingbrit_archive

[ First Philip met up with Dean. Then unhappy memories were created.

And now the adrenaline wears off and Philip wonders if there was a point to his escape to begin with.

He remembers when Clarence of all people reminds him that he meant to warn "the love of his life... oh yeah, and Evie too".

And so he reaches for the communication device, hoping that Dean doesn't lurk around the next corner to hear... not before his message is sent. ]

Evie, listen, I was wrong about Dean, he won't help he's one of them just stay away, don't....

[ Then his train of thought breaks and he forgets to dial the second number, unaware that his private audio turned into a public video (the image of which is, granted, mostly obscured by dark red smudges on the screen).

Having done his duty he leans back against the cold stone. Just a minute to catch his breath. Just a minute... to rest and... and then he'll get up... again... probably. ]

[[ OOC: Backdated to the event's first day. Philip is still alive and up for a friendly chat, but unfortunately he already has a date with Santana which he just can't miss, so action is only an option for those who have no intention of helping or killing him.

All threads take place before his encounter with Santana, unless you want to find his body and use it as a decorative wall element. ]]

As the dust settled on a stack of yellowed magazines I remembered why I had learned to love the silence. Silence was all I had left now. Silence and books that were never bought, a telephone that never rang.

Every day I would pour myself a cup of coffee, sit behind the counter and read the paper. Later I would do inventory and I would stop near the grimy mirror in the corner and look for a familiar face that never showed.

I would dutifully wait for a customer or two and at the end of the day I would grab the old broom and sweep the floor. Every day I would wipe the counter and every time I would wash my hands before closing and wonder if I would ever stop smelling the blood.

Then, after every burning sunset, I would lock the store and for my own benefit I would pause for a moment and fake disappointment and surprise at yet another day without sales gone by.

In a city that was bustling with life at every corner my little shop was only a relict; dead and long forgotten. We had that much in common at least.

Outside the noise of the morning traffic slowly died down like a drizzle of summer rain. I grabbed my cup and the paper and sat down behind the counter. Today, I thought, would be just like any other day.

[ OOC: Information on noir!Philip is here. All threads take place before his encounter with Dean, unless somebody wants to play medic. ]

What--

[ Philip looks around, running his gloved hands along the wall. Where is the destruction? The decay? The ice? ]

No. No, this is not...

This can't be...

[ The door he came through is not the door he came through. And the frozen landscape behind that door? Is suddenly a warm corridor with a nice, carpeted floor.]

Where am I?

{ We're not in Kansas anymore, that's for sure. Not that you've ever been, far as I can tell. Heh, not that you're missin' out on much... }

What did you do?!

{ Calm down, monkey. For once in my life I'm just as clueless as you are and I've been around for a while, so that's sayin' somethin'. }

Turn it back!!

{ Now listen here: You can either go on yapping and blame it all on Clarence till you're blue in the face, or you can get a grip and have a look around. }

Turn it back...

{ Oh, and one more thing: How about you get rid of those gloves? We're obviously not below zero anymore and I'm sure you'd hate to have your monkey palms all sweaty when you shake hands with whoever brought you here. }

Oh God...