[ McGillis feels tangible relief when he unlocks the 'room' and finds it to be more a small apartment than a single shared space. The idea of sharing his space with someone else is not unbearable, but given the ominous nature of their situation, he much prefers sleeping in privacy.
He gives a little smile to Siffrin, determined to make this a decent roommate relationship so things aren't any more troublesome than need be. ]
If you have a preference on which room to take, I'll let you have first pick.
[ the exhaustion on Siffrin’s shoulders was not something that seemed to be fixed by the food offered. the dark circle under their one good eye is proof of an exhaustion that goes beyond this bizarre situation.
they look between the two rooms. are they supposed to pick?
(ugh, you hate making decisions.
(smile, Siffrin. you don’t want to scare him off too.)]
They both look the same, so… I think it doesn’t matter much?
[ Thankfully, McGillis has trained himself in social graces all his life and picks up on the fact that his courtesy is being a bother.
He shrugs. ]
I think so, too. I'll take the left and leave the right to you then.
[ It truly doesn't matter beyond niceties. ]
I haven't really lived in a roommate arrangement before, but I'd like to think I'm unproblematic to share a space with. Let's make the unpleasant circumstances as bearable as we can, shall we?
[ Normally McGillis would introduce himself with the full rank and fanfare, but it's a bit awkward after being given just a first name and also... it's actually just a bit awkward, huh? We'll power through. ]
McGillis. The pleasure is all mine... questionable circumstances aside. It is unfortunately appearing more and more unlikely that we are dreaming.
[ Not that is was ever that likely to begin with. ]
[ Siffrin leaves the area early because Lobelia’s presence is simply that triggering.
when McGillis comes in, he’ll find them on the couch, head in their hands.
what could they have done differently? was there anything they could have done differently? this and a flurry of other questions eat away at Siffrin at the moment. ]
[ McGillis comes back a little later, because he unfortunately was interested in hearing the further conversation, but it was... mostly irritating and not exactly useful.
[ Siffrin leaves the library before the others do, silent as a whisper. It’s too difficult to stay there, with everyone’s reactions to the recently deceased haunting him like the rest of the spirits apparently haunting this building.
They don’t go anywhere new, only back to the room that had been assigned to him and McGillis. He figures that McGillis will take his time coming back, which means that they’ll have time to lock themselves in the bathroom and sit on the tile floor.
(Nice, cool tile floor, perfect for curling up and burying your face in your hands for.)
He has no idea how much time has passed since, but to him it feels like barely a minute has gone by before they’re hearing the door to the place open. Scrambling to their feet, Siffrin opens the door and walks out as casually as possible. ]
[ McGillis does indeed take longer to return - this is both because despite the fact that there is a magic in place that will not allow them to see, his investigative spirit gets the better of him... and because he thinks Siffrin likely needs time to calm down.
A suspicion that seems to confirm itself when Siffrin comes out of... the bathroom? Looking supremely fake and awkward in his casual cheer. ]
[ The smile that’s stitched on Siffrin’s face twitches when McGillis asks the question. There’s no beating around the bush about it, and all he can do is blame himself for being so stupid as to let themselves be scared. Scared of what? A little announcement? Of something that didn’t even happen to them?
Siffrin wishes that they could hide themselves in their hat. It’s impossible, but they try to pull it down anyway. ]
I’m okay. [ They try to maintain the smile anyway. ] I must have had a bad dream while I slept.
[ It's difficult to handle this, McGillis realizes with a start. Emotional comfort is not his forte - the number of people he's close to can be counted on one hand, and they are very simple to cheer up.
Siffrin is somewhere between a friend and a stranger - they've been living together for two weeks, and proximity has made them feel familiar, but ultimately there is much and more they don't know about each other. ]
Two people died under unknown circumstances. There's no shame in being freaked out.
[ It's the dead of the night when Siffrin will hear a loud thunk of something being thrown against the wall in the other bedroom. Which is probably fine.
[ Well good thing neither of them are sleeping. Which is definitely fine. From under the bedsheets, Siffrin quietly jolts in fear of what could be happening.
But after a moment of consideration, they slowly peel the sheets off of themselves, and press their ear against the wall connecting them. ]
This is because McGillis is pressed with his back against the wall, trying to get his breathing under control. His bedsheets have been flung off him by something malevolent and now--
Ah, Siffrin is home, isn't he? After another second of heaving, McGillis calls out: ]
[ Siffrin slowly releases a breath that they didn't even know they were holding. Sliding down the wall, they sit on the floor. They should be going to check on McGillis but...
They call out through the wall, trying to at least give McGillis the luxury of some privacy. ]
Guess neither of us are getting much sleep tonight.
[ In some way or another, the two of them end up in a dream.
It is once again, atop a stage, empty save for two. The spotlight shines on a single, lone figure, kneeling down and hunched over on the floor. The white cloak and hat on their head should be enough indication of the person, even if their head is tucked into the collar of their coat. It’s Siffrin. On the other end… it’s a figure (or, perhaps, figures?) shrouded in darkness. Unmoving. Staring Waiting for its actor to stand back up.
The taste of burnt sugar filters through the air, cloyingly sweet like overdone caramel.
Today, there is no crowd. It’s a show for McGillis’ eyes alone. And even then, the invisible audience breaks into applause as Siffrin looks up at the figure.
A voice speaks, mechanical in nature. The dark figure’s mouth does not move. ]
(Come on, Siffrin. You have an audience to entertain.)
[ Reality isn't real anymore - again. Has it ever been? Has McGillis ever felt solid ground under his feet, or had he just been led to believe as much? In his worse hours in [setting], he no longer knows.
McGillis in the audience, Siffrin on the stage, and the figure-- figures? It's so hard to tell, because as soon as McGillis arrives at the scene, the theater walls become mirrors, an endless reflecting maze of the three of them, the crowd that they make.
It's suffocating.
McGillis walks towards the stage until he's at the very foot of it, ironically looking at Siffrin from eye level for the first time. ]
No, you don't. It's just me.
[ Who is that? Who is that? There are so many reflections, so many angles of the construct called 'McGillis Fareed', surrounding them. ]
[ Siffrin’s head turns towards McGillis, the look in their eye terrified and lost.
The reflection in the mirror is of McGillis, and McGillis only. Surrounded, the nameless actor on stage realizes that they’re under the man’s scrutny, and the expectations that come with it are as oppressive as an avalance.
(He shouldn’t be here he shouldn’t be seeing you here like this disgusting and pathetic why is he here why is he here why is he here why why why why no no no no no—)
The scent of burnt sugar is strong enough to overpower the senses and—
It is once again, atop a stage, empty save for two. The spotlight shines on a single, lone figure, kneeling down and hunched over on the floor. The white cloak and hat on their head should be enough indication of the person, even if their head is tucked into the collar of their coat. It’s Siffrin. On the other end… it’s a figure (or, perhaps, figures?) shrouded in darkness. Unmoving. Staring Waiting for its actor to stand back up.
The taste of burnt sugar filters through the air, cloyingly sweet like overdone caramel.
Today, there is no crowd. It’s a show for McGillis’ eyes alone. And even then, the invisible audience breaks into applause as Siffrin’s head whips to see if McGillis is still there, watching. ]
[ What? That's-- Even as McGillis is trying to will himself to get used to the ever-malleable nature of space, this feels different. Like a rip int he fabric of it all, appearing and vanishing in an instant.
He's back where he started, towards the back of the audience, and-- ]
Siffrin-!!
[ He's approaching again, faster in his steps this time. ]
[ After McGillis' untimely passing, Siffrin is free to go through his room. There's not much in there, but on the desk awaits his notebook.
Most of the contents are things that have been shared at meetings, meticulously documented. But there's a few things on the last few pages that haven't actually come up yet: ]
Communication with Ramuda:
- We are seen and heard if outside. - There are no other ghosts beyond the dead from our time here. - The wish giver talked to him as a kind voice without other distinguishing features. - There is a painting of a shimmering being in the museum. - Final message unclear:
SHIMMER CLEANSED DARKNESS HORRORS
BUT
SALVATION EMPTY COLORLESS
[ Then a different entry, from the next page, this one totally without indication of source: ]
Having a wish fulfilled invites the disease into your world.
[ Finally, the room holds McGillis' share of bandages that was given to the people who went to Victorian England, and a mysterious syringe with some substance in it. It's labeled F SN 35.
Finally, there's the flashlight he received from Maomao. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
W0 - Monday Evening
He gives a little smile to Siffrin, determined to make this a decent roommate relationship so things aren't any more troublesome than need be. ]
If you have a preference on which room to take, I'll let you have first pick.
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they look between the two rooms. are they supposed to pick?
(ugh, you hate making decisions.
(smile, Siffrin. you don’t want to scare him off too.)]
They both look the same, so… I think it doesn’t matter much?
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He shrugs. ]
I think so, too. I'll take the left and leave the right to you then.
[ It truly doesn't matter beyond niceties. ]
I haven't really lived in a roommate arrangement before, but I'd like to think I'm unproblematic to share a space with. Let's make the unpleasant circumstances as bearable as we can, shall we?
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nod.)
looking at the room, Siffrin makes their stake on it by setting his hat down on the bed. ]
Um… my name’s Siffrin. It’s uh, nice to meet you?
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McGillis. The pleasure is all mine... questionable circumstances aside. It is unfortunately appearing more and more unlikely that we are dreaming.
[ Not that is was ever that likely to begin with. ]
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crawls back to this one belatedly too...
w0…. post execution…
when McGillis comes in, he’ll find them on the couch, head in their hands.
what could they have done differently? was there anything they could have done differently? this and a flurry of other questions eat away at Siffrin at the moment. ]
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So Siffrin on the couch? That's a big big mood. ]
... would you care for a hot chocolate?
[ Won't fix anything, but. ]
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[ let them have the pun, McGillis. they’ll go crazy if he can’t. ]
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[ Said in the voice of a middle aged father talking to his teenage child... But that is at least a nice bit of familiarity. ]
I'll be right back then. We certainly need something to calm us.
1/2
Siffrin raises his head, chuckling. ]
It’s a pun! But I think the crowd here is a lot more difficult than…
2/2
Who knows if you’ll ever see them again.) ]
…Than back where I was last. Maybe it’s a cultural difference?
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w1 post body announcement
They don’t go anywhere new, only back to the room that had been assigned to him and McGillis. He figures that McGillis will take his time coming back, which means that they’ll have time to lock themselves in the bathroom and sit on the tile floor.
(Nice, cool tile floor, perfect for curling up and burying your face in your hands for.)
He has no idea how much time has passed since, but to him it feels like barely a minute has gone by before they’re hearing the door to the place open. Scrambling to their feet, Siffrin opens the door and walks out as casually as possible. ]
Uh…hi!
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A suspicion that seems to confirm itself when Siffrin comes out of... the bathroom? Looking supremely fake and awkward in his casual cheer. ]
Do you feel a little calmer?
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Siffrin wishes that they could hide themselves in their hat. It’s impossible, but they try to pull it down anyway. ]
I’m okay. [ They try to maintain the smile anyway. ] I must have had a bad dream while I slept.
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Siffrin is somewhere between a friend and a stranger - they've been living together for two weeks, and proximity has made them feel familiar, but ultimately there is much and more they don't know about each other. ]
Two people died under unknown circumstances. There's no shame in being freaked out.
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Week 2, Monday Night
... investigate? ]
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But after a moment of consideration, they slowly peel the sheets off of themselves, and press their ear against the wall connecting them. ]
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This is because McGillis is pressed with his back against the wall, trying to get his breathing under control. His bedsheets have been flung off him by something malevolent and now--
Ah, Siffrin is home, isn't he? After another second of heaving, McGillis calls out: ]
It's alright.
[ Convincing. ]
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[ Siffrin slowly releases a breath that they didn't even know they were holding. Sliding down the wall, they sit on the floor. They should be going to check on McGillis but...
They call out through the wall, trying to at least give McGillis the luxury of some privacy. ]
Guess neither of us are getting much sleep tonight.
cw implications of csa for anyone reading this later
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wk3 tuesday, just putting a suicide/suicide ideation cw for the entire thread just in case
It is once again, atop a stage, empty save for two. The spotlight shines on a single, lone figure, kneeling down and hunched over on the floor. The white cloak and hat on their head should be enough indication of the person, even if their head is tucked into the collar of their coat. It’s Siffrin. On the other end… it’s a figure (or, perhaps, figures?) shrouded in darkness. Unmoving. Staring Waiting for its actor to stand back up.
The taste of burnt sugar filters through the air, cloyingly sweet like overdone caramel.
Today, there is no crowd. It’s a show for McGillis’ eyes alone. And even then, the invisible audience breaks into applause as Siffrin looks up at the figure.
A voice speaks, mechanical in nature. The dark figure’s mouth does not move. ]
(Come on, Siffrin. You have an audience to entertain.)
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McGillis in the audience, Siffrin on the stage, and the figure-- figures? It's so hard to tell, because as soon as McGillis arrives at the scene, the theater walls become mirrors, an endless reflecting maze of the three of them, the crowd that they make.
It's suffocating.
McGillis walks towards the stage until he's at the very foot of it, ironically looking at Siffrin from eye level for the first time. ]
No, you don't. It's just me.
[ Who is that? Who is that? There are so many reflections, so many angles of the construct called 'McGillis Fareed', surrounding them. ]
1/2
The reflection in the mirror is of McGillis, and McGillis only. Surrounded, the nameless actor on stage realizes that they’re under the man’s scrutny, and the expectations that come with it are as oppressive as an avalance.
(He shouldn’t be here he shouldn’t be seeing you here like this disgusting and pathetic why is he here why is he here why is he here why why why why no no no no no—)
The scent of burnt sugar is strong enough to overpower the senses and—
Siffrin feels
a tug in their stomach. ]
2/2
the
cassette
rewinds.
It is once again, atop a stage, empty save for two. The spotlight shines on a single, lone figure, kneeling down and hunched over on the floor. The white cloak and hat on their head should be enough indication of the person, even if their head is tucked into the collar of their coat. It’s Siffrin. On the other end… it’s a figure (or, perhaps, figures?) shrouded in darkness. Unmoving. Staring Waiting for its actor to stand back up.
The taste of burnt sugar filters through the air, cloyingly sweet like overdone caramel.
Today, there is no crowd. It’s a show for McGillis’ eyes alone. And even then, the invisible audience breaks into applause as Siffrin’s head whips to see if McGillis is still there, watching. ]
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He's back where he started, towards the back of the audience, and-- ]
Siffrin-!!
[ He's approaching again, faster in his steps this time. ]
derealization cw
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Inheritance
Most of the contents are things that have been shared at meetings, meticulously documented. But there's a few things on the last few pages that haven't actually come up yet: ]
Communication with Ramuda:
- We are seen and heard if outside.
- There are no other ghosts beyond the dead from our time here.
- The wish giver talked to him as a kind voice without other distinguishing features.
- There is a painting of a shimmering being in the museum.
- Final message unclear:
SHIMMER CLEANSED DARKNESS HORRORS
BUT
SALVATION EMPTY COLORLESS
[ Then a different entry, from the next page, this one totally without indication of source: ]
Having a wish fulfilled invites the disease into your world.
[ Finally, the room holds McGillis' share of bandages that was given to the people who went to Victorian England, and a mysterious syringe with some substance in it. It's labeled F SN 35.
Finally, there's the flashlight he received from Maomao. ]