sadfreezingbrit_archive | Entries tagged with [daniel]

( [ THE STORY ] )

[ ...And then it's four days later and Philip seems perfectly fine. Well. "Philip" does at any rate. He still looks a bit gaunt, but that's nothing another night's sleep, a healthy meal and some more water won't fix. ]

[ LOCKED FROM EVELYN ]

[ Right now he's enjoying a good book and a cup of tea in the library, but most of all he's really, really enjoying himself right now. ]

So which side won, anyway? [ He laughs. ] Because I'd, er... really hate to have died if nobody even kept score.

[ He raises his cup and toasts into the camera. ]

[ PRIVATE TO EVELYN ]

[ And now? Time to turn that smile upside down. He ends the transmission and takes a deep breath, making sure to leave no trace of cheer when he makes the next call: ]

Evie, um... remember the next- the dinner and the movie we talked about? And then we didn't get to it, because-- Anyway, I... I thought if you're... if you've got time this evening, I'd... I'd love to catch up.

[[OOC: Oh look, it's an early Christmas present: A Clarence! Long story short, Philip felt miserable and the virus took over. Feel free to talk to him or even approach him, he won't actually bite or stab or otherwise maim. This time. ~~Probably.~~]]

[ It's the event's second night, around four o'clock in the morning.

The narration trusts that at this point everyone has found somebody to room with and is tucked into bed.

Fast asleep as opposed to completely deprived of the same ever since the event started.

And definitely not building a donut replica of Westminster Abbey in one of the conference rooms.

Nope.

Not happening anywhere at all. ]

[ ...For everyone who does not enjoy a little action at night, Philip will emerge from his building project in the morning and can subsequently be found
a.) making coffee in the coffee area
b.) drinking coffee in one of the cubicles and
c.) throwing coffee at the backstairs spiders

If you hear him humming a strange tune, well, that's just the melody his hot beverage gives off, because who needs a sense of smell when you can have a constant soundtrack instead? ]

( [ACCIDENTAL VIDEO - Cut for length. ] )

[ Philip's voice is heard again soon after that, though his final decision on what to wear will remain a mystery, at least during this brief (yet deliberate) audio transmission. ]

Um, is there-- We haven't got... someone like a barber here by any chance, do we?

[ Click! And that's it! ]

- - - -

[ ...Until later that day when Philip takes his troubling thoughts out for a walk on the beach for accidental and deliberate action encounters alike. ]

[ The year is 2011. The place is Wonderland. The exact time is exactly some time after the events of this log.

Both audio and video of this transmission are on, but the view leaves something to be desired. A white ceiling, half of which is obstructed by a smudge of blood.

The voice quality is top notch however and some may be able to recognise

echo_of_utopia and

sadfreezingbrit talking to each other not too far away. ]

No, I... I don't-- I can't...

Perhaps your room number?

...Five... sixteen on the... twelfth floor.

[ Short pause. ] All right, just a moment. [ Longer pause. ] Please look straight ahead and follow the light with your eyes.

[ Even longer pause. ]

Thank you, now--

...W-wait, there's-- Can... Can you...

Ah, of course. Let me just turn it off.

[ The sound of footsteps draws closer and for a moment the video displays part of the clinic, its most notable feature being a bed occupied by one not exactly stellar looking Philip LaFresque.

The other participant is of course none other than the good Dr Lamb who promptly pushes a button on the device, thus ending today's episode of ER: Wonderland Edition. ]

[[OOC: Video/audio/text replies from both

sadfreezingbrit and

echo_of_utopia are possible. Action tags at the clinic are also very welcome. Please specify who you're calling, in case you have a preference.]]

[ There is something Philip has been wondering for a while now. Today he would like to share this thought with the mansion. ]

Alors, euh, je me suis demandé ce qu--

... [ No. Wait. That... doesn't sound right. He laughs nervously. Must've been a weird slip-up. ]

Je m-- [ And there it is again. ]

Je... me suis... de... mandé...

[ ... ]

Anglais. [ He stops, exhales in disbelief. Says the next part very slowly and carefully. ]

...Quelque chose en anglais.

[ Neither English nor something in English seems to be working. Maybe if he just tried to-- RAPID SHAKESPEARIAN QUOTE ATTACK! ] Etre, ou ne pas être, c'est là la question. Y a-t-il plus de noblesse d'âme à-- Putain!

[ ...Nope. ]

{ ...You know, whoever is responsible for this is a bloody genius. I'm genuinely embarrassed that I didn't come up with the giant OUT OF ORDER sign on your entire English language section. Tant pis pour toi, eh? }

[ Yeah, apart from the tough shit sentiment he didn't exactly get any of that, but it's probably for the better.

He sighs and rubs his temples. This isn't happening. ]

...C'est pas vrai. [ SIGH, take 2. ] Bon, alors...

Est-ce que vous me comprenez encore?

[ Do you still understand him, mansion? Please say oui. PLEASE JUST SAY OUI. ]

[[ OOC: I'm confident that my tagging is slow enough without adding awkward translation time to it, so most of everything else he says will either be summed up in the narration or said in English with a 'Disclaimer: Insert French-sounding gibberish here' sticker attached to it. With everything else I apologise in advance for any errors my French ~~will most definitely and without a shadow of doubt~~ may or may not contain. ]]

[ Philip's face is looking perfectly normal (if a little crabby in the strictly mood-related sense of the word). Shoulders, arms, no problem there. His chest, not currently covered by any sort of clothing, is looking just a tad more blueish and... transparent than it should.

Opacity only decreases from there, making Phil entirely light blue and see-through below his stomach. Below the waist it looks like he's been torn and tattered, his body segueing into a thick bundle of thin tentacles where his legs should be.

Or in other words: Philip, now with roughly 65% more this. ]

How is that even--

[ The blue tentacles whirl around as Philip turns and spins nervously in front of his algae-encrusted mirror, placing his hands behind his back to confirm that there is indeed nothing whatsoever between the front and the back of his body.

He spins a few more times before letting himself drift onto his mattress with resignation. ]

...I want my organs back.

( Cut for a backdated tl;dr off-screen prelude containing spoilers for Penumbra: Overture )

[ The hallway monitor on the fourth floor flickers on and shows Philip pacing the corridor nervously.

There is a practically endless number of reasons he doesn't want to be here. And yet there is a single more compelling one that seemingly outranks them all.

He eyes a golden sign on the wall with increased restlessness:

PSYCHIATRIC GROUP PRACTICE
EMMA PILLSBURY &
DR SOFIA LAMB

He reaches for the door next to it and almost immediately draws back. ]

You won't...

{ Hey, no worries. I don't mind a little psychoanalysis. 'Course whoever these broads are don't stand a chance against the kind of insight I'm givin', but psychobabble beats listening to your thoughts on nervous breakdown mode. So... knock yourself out. }

[ Philip swallows, puts his hand on the door and... stops dead in his tracks as he notices the camera recording him.

There is no shame in seeing a therapist. Suddenly being on 'Phil Sees a Therapist TV' however? That calls for an awkward and sheepish look.

But all in all? He has bigger problems than that and if he's got the mansion's attention he might as well make use of it. He taps the sign with his finger. ]

So, are... are they any good?

[ Philip and mystery doors have a history. One that did not end well for him last time.

So when he spots the door on the first day he doesn't need to think twice about turning around and leaving.

When he returns a few hours later he curses silently to himself.

He sticks around, trying to find out more.

He fails and returns to his room at night.

Only to be completely and utterly unable to sleep.

Eventually he resigns, gets dressed and takes his place in the front hall in the early hours of day two.

And there he's been sitting ever since (on a blanket on the floor), away from the bulk of the crowd, glaring and wary eyes fixed on the thing in front of him. ]

I hate you.

[ It's unclear whether his remark is directed towards the door or himself. ]

[ It's been one week since Philip last left his room, looking for help. It didn't go too well and he's been persistently reclusive ever since. No checking the network, definitely no contributing to it and most, most definitely no leaving his room. ]

[ When the feed switches on early in the morning it shows Philip lying in his bed, tossing and turning, eyes wide open. ]

[ When the feed switches on a few hours later it shows Philip lying in his bed, asleep. ]

[ When the feed switches on at noon it shows Philip lying in his bed, still asleep. ]

[ When the feed switches on early in the afternoon it shows Philip's bed, empty. When he returns to it a few minutes later he is still wearing a set of grey pyjamas. He halts when he walks past the bleeding mirror. "It wasn't funny the first time you did it."

He looks annoyed, but suddenly falters and stands still. Then he reaches out to touch the red liquid with two fingertips, staring at it curiously. After a moment he shakes his head.

"Yeah, right." He finds a tissue to wipe off the blood and goes back to bed. ]

[ ...where he lies when the feed switches on again later in the afternoon. He's on his back, staring at the ceiling. ]

[ In the evening he sits on his bed. A candle illuminates his slightly haggard features. One wonders if he may not have eaten much of anything during that last week. He certainly didn't shave, that's for sure.

The feed ends when he stands up and fetches a bottle of Jack Daniel's plus a tablet box from the closet. ]

[ Later that night the feed shows the candle's last flicker before it dies, its wax still dripping from the bedside table. Philip is lying in his bed, fast asleep. ]

[[OOC: If you want to interrupt his exciting daily routine with action, video or audio, please let me know at what point your character shows up.]]