brett and eris

things always get worse

who: eris and brett
where: brett's place
when: morning

Trying to Get Out

Feeling:
scared

Who: Brett and Eris
Where: His place(s)
When: Afternoon

When Eris woke, she was still not feeling the best. She didn't know if it was because she hadn't taken any of her medication the day before, or because of her fever last night, or...who else knew what. The headache of all the messages back and forth, the hunger pangs, the fact that she'd wound up having to use a sink she couldn't wash things down in for facilities...there was just awfulness all around. Add on top of that her horrible feelings about her own predicament, her idea that she'd been misinterpreting everything, and Brett's perpetual silence from his computer and you had one hellish day.

So, when there was the ability to leave? She took it. Straight away, even. Even with the locks on things gone, and everything else, she was the hell out of there. She really hated it when she came up in that little house they'd initially stuck her in. That didn't help her disposition at all, particularly since she'd deliberately left the place behind ages ago. Or what felt like ages ago. But all of the things she'd left there were still, in fact, there.

misinterpretations

who: brett and eris
where: pmland
when: wee-hours

What really needed to happen was she needed to stop waking up with the vague feeling of surprise that she was waking up at all. That would be a great place to start out. Not somewhat shocked that she was conscious, breathing, not dead. It would at the very least be a mark of not being quite so fucked up. Of course if she stopped waking up confused about waking up at all, it would probably mean that she'd survived the experiment. And somehow, she didn't figure that was going to happen, by any stretch of the imagination.

Someone would find a reason to kill her. They'd feed someone just enough bullshit--or hell, truth--and someone would want to take her out. Or she'd do something stupid like last night, and do it to herself accidentally. One's survivability rating really tended to nosedive when you were actually likely to kill yourself just by pure accident. The third option was she did what she'd done when she'd driven out of town, which was merely put herself into a position where she was likely to die, and she couldn't bring herself to give a shit. Those bouts of sliding down into self destructive tendencies that she still didn't quite know the origin of. Yeah, she wasn't going to make it. It was clear she thought that. And even if she did, she didn't know what the fuck she was going to do back in the outside world. It wasn't like she could go back to her old life. There certainly wasn't a place for her there.

the goddess of discord and strife

Feeling:
indescribable

Who: Brett and Eris
When: all damn day
Where: PMs

Brett was still looking around wherever they'd put him when the first notification came through.  At least, that's what he figured as he made his way to the south terminal down what was clearly a forest fucking path.  The place even had little birdies singing - he was waiting for one of them to crap on his head.  Honestly.

Trying Not To Talk

Feeling:
angry

Who: Brett and Eris
Where: The vicarage - hallway/ kitchen
When: Early morning

Eris had gotten up early. Kind of stupidly early, because she had gone to bed really early. She was feeling better. Not one hundred percent, or anything, but she was moving faster, her head didn't pound constantly, and the little ache in it was actually something that was kind of normal for her. She got headaches a lot. Her fever seemed to have gone down some too. She'd even gotten dressed today. Real clothes and everything, though she stuck with warmer things, comfortable things. She was sitting on the third stair up from the bottom, looking down at the Brett-doll she'd retrieved again from the doll house. She kept thinking she was going to check it. See what was under the eye patch. See what kind of cut the missing limb had. All that kind of thing, but she hadn't yet. And, as she was sitting there, staring down at the doll in her hands, she was kicked out of her heavy thoughts by the watch on her wrist. With the little musical alarm that was going off. She couldn't place the song, but it sounded like a music box to her. The light on it started to flash as well. She didn't do anything, just stared down at it, watching the little smileyface icon on the lcd screen blink.

Brett had been up for a while as well. Given the last few days, sleeping in didn't really feel like an option any more, and he didn't want another day where everything was getting started before he'd had a chance to privately get himself ready for the day. So, he'd woken early this morning and kept himself very much to himself until he felt ready to face whatever it was they had to face today. He was, however, pleased to see that the chair they'd given him yesterday hadn't been taken away again. It was a damn sight better than anything he'd had in the past, and far and away above the piece of crap they'd given him for a couple of days. He rolled out into the hallway almost silently, enjoying the lack of squeak and the loss of rusty resistance. And, as such, he saw her before she saw him and he looked at her, noting the small signs that told him she was looking rather better today.

good morning, sunshine

who: brett and eris
where: spooky doom house
when: morning

When Eris regained consciousness, it wasn't necessarily a pleasant sort of experience. She woke into a world where her head pounded, her body ached, her throat was sore, her stomach ached, she felt vaguely like she was going to be sick, and...generally speaking she felt awful. She was also vaguely surprised, because she really hadn't expected to wake up at all. So upon waking, and realizing she wasn't in fact, dead, and was back in the most uncomfortable damn bed in the known universe...Eris was a little hard pressed to be grateful for continued survival.

She groaned and curled farther into a ball, the movement making shivers break out through her form, since a little of the cool air of the room drifted in through the thin blanket. God, she felt terrible. She probably needed to take something. Or...find a window to leap out of. Cynically, she figured she was only on the second floor. She likely wouldn't actually die. Crap. After having to convince herself a whole lot, she got out of bed, dragging the blanket with her, wrapping it round her shoulders as her teeth chattered. Stumbling out of her room, she tried to remember where the bathroom was, but...that was kinda beyond her reach at the moment. So she shuffled along til she was reaching out for the rail to keep herself upright, breath coming heavier than she would have liked. She only vaguely realized after her vision cleared that she was looking down into Brett's room again. Why the hell didn't he have a ceiling, anyways? What the hell kind of room was that? Who built this house, and what kind of crack had they been on in the first damn place?

Brett was sleeping, lying on his side, his legs positioned carefully beneath the covers, supported by pillows, a position that actually only left him one pillow to support his head, which he'd folded in half and scrunched up to get high enough and which he was holding in place in his sleep by wrapping an arm around it. At least, that had been the plan - he'd got himself comfortable last night, got himself enough pillows by stealing some from the empty room next door, since this fucking house didn't have enough in just his room. But, sometime in the night, those stolen pillows had been stolen back and since then Brett's sleep had become increasingly disturbed as his unconscious mind noticed the subtle change in positioning. Not that he could actually feel the loss of the pillows from his legs, but the change altered the angle of his body and a host of other small matters that registered as Not Right. It had been different when they'd been travelling, he'd expected that, but in a bed - even an uncomfortable one - when he'd specifically set himself up before going to sleep? He remembered that shit, he had to - he didn't want to ever have to worry about pressure sores and other shit like that. he shifted slightly in his sleep, muttering to himself and showing signs of waking up.

goodbye, sweetheart

who: eris and brett
when: early afternoon
where: spooky house of doom

Eris had gotten her shit together in her room, which really hadn't taken her that long. It wasn't as if she had a ton of stuff with her in the first place. Just things for their journey. Which...well, she didn't need anymore, now did she? Brett was pissed, and was probably disowning her, finally. Funny, how it was over something he got the truth over. She should have just lied to him like everyone else. Would have been easier. But no, she had her stupid truth thing with him. Fucking stupid.

semantics

who: brett and eris
where: the random church of DOOM
when: morning, throughout the day

Eris woke early. At least, she thought it was early. The light coming in from outside was muted at best, due to the stained glass, and there weren't any normal windows. Mostly what roused her was the sound of the wind, and the smell of something that made her stomach growl. So, slowly, she came awake, and she propped herself up on one arm, looking in the darkness of the building. She could see vague outlines, but not much more. The smell of food, however, was still strong, and she reached for her lighter, flicking it and she lit the candle that had been placed next to the pew she'd been using. Vaguely, she tried to remember when she got back the night before. Or if she remembered coming back at all.

That wonder died, however, when she saw up on the altar, there was a long table that hadn't been there before, the podium pushed off to the side. There were dishes there, covered, but obviously being kept heated. Standing, she silently moved a little closer towards the altar, but stopped when something else caught her attention. The door...well. I was different. Different in the way that it was sort of not looking like it was there anymore. A sick feeling rose up in her stomach, and she walked over closer, and saw a simple typed note tacked to the wall where the door used to be. "Relax, enjoy the food we've provided you. We will return to collect you later." was all it said. Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly, fighting that sick feeling back down again, and she looked back over her shoulder at Brett. He was still asleep. Setting the candle down, she walked over, and sat down on the floor beside him, not actually moving to wake him. Instead she just sat there in the semi dark, eyes on him. This? Was not going to go well.

Burning the Cards of Fate

Feeling:
angry

who: brett and eris
where: the middle of nowhere
when: early evening

First Night

Feeling:
okay

Who: Brett and Eris
Where: Out of town
When: Night

They'd left the town behind. They'd driven until they'd run out of gas the first time. Then they'd filled the tank back up with what they'd packed, though that hadn't given them a second full tank. She'd driven them until the car sputtered and died, and then she just let it coast until it came to a full stop on it's own. Then she stuck it in park, and eyed the odometer. It'd be a long walk back, if they were planning that. Which she knew they weren't. She'd gotten a wagon like she'd wanted in town, and that helped for hauling. Made it a lot easier on her to walk, pulling that along behind her with everything they needed. The terrain wasn't necessarily good, but it was good enough that Brett could cover ground. Most of the day had been spent quietly, really, til it came time for them to set up for the night. How much ground they'd actually managed to cover she didn't know. Didn't actually matter, one way or another, so she didn't ask, either.

She'd set up the tent, and started a low fire, all the while trying to ignore all the aches in her frame, and the fact that her feet felt like hell. She hadn't had time to break her boots in properly, so while nicely supportive and all that good shit--she knew she had blisters. Bad ones, and she knew more than one had burst during the course of the day. She just hadn't opted to say anything. She wasn't going to start bitching now. Drinking some water from the canteen that she'd been nursing most of the day, she finally sat down, and a moment later, she slumped over onto her side, back to the fire. Staring out at nothing, she wondered just how hard it would be to get to the tent. She could skip eating, right? She didn't feel hungry. She probably was, but her stomach wasn't necessarily happy with her. Maybe she'd sleep right where she was. Brett could have the tent, he'd like the privacy.

Brett wheeled out of the darkness, having taken himself away to deal with various matters in some privacy, coping better than he'd feared, all things considered. In fact, today had been better than he'd feared - he'd actually been able to keep going, which was the best he could ask for, in his opinion. Well, other than a proper road, or real civilisation. But, the day had been clear, if cold, and he couldn't stop the remembrance of why it was he'd once loved being outside so much.