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Post by Forrest Kaysen on Dec 2, 2010 19:01:13 GMT -8
Obediently, Willie shuffled closer to Charlotte, curling around her feet and whining softly as Polly left. He looked up at the girl, sniffing a bit and glancing towards where he knew that strange-smelling thing was in her pocket. This girl didn't seem happy at all - she seemed scared. He didn't like seeing people scared. He wasn't that kind of dog.
Willie whined again, looking up to lock eyes with the girl quizzically.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 2, 2010 19:10:14 GMT -8
Charlotte nodded, relieved that for the moment she didn’t have to make a decision. As Polly left to go make tea, Willie shuffled closer to her, curling around her feet. She scratched him behind the ears as he whined softly again, looking up at her quizzically. She offered the dog a tiny smile.
“Thank you Willie. You’re a very good dog,” she told him. Then she made her way slowly over to the nearest chair. She hissed in pain as she eased herself carefully into it. Fuck, she hurt.
Alone in the lobby for the moment, save for Willie, she couldn’t stop the trembling of her hands. The sheer panic she’d been feeling had faded... but not the fear. The terror. How could cigarette ash have gotten on her camera? I don’t think I want to know...
Charlotte wrapped her arms around herself and tried to ignore the icy chill running down her spine.
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Polly
Junior Member
What's that? Oh dear, I'm afraid we're all out of pepper.
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Post by Polly on Dec 2, 2010 19:25:22 GMT -8
Polly was almost surprised by how uneventful the tea-making went. Bringing it back on a tray into the lobby, she found Charlotte huddled up and trembling and looking for all the world like a scared little girl in one of the chairs. What nightmare did you fall into? She put the tea tray down onto a nearby surface and offered a cup to Charlotte. She then took a cup of her own and sat down next to her.
She knew there were things that had to be said, but they weren't her's to say. So until Charlotte felt up to talking, she concentrated on being a comforting presence and drinking her tea in silence. The night turned--at least for her, anyway--from something to be feared into something comfortable wrapping itself around her quietly.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 2, 2010 19:39:18 GMT -8
Charlotte glanced up in surprise as Polly returned with the tea. The presence of another person helped her... feel safe. As safe as she could be considering the course of the day. The thought of being alone right now sort of terrified her. She offered the older woman a shy smile, accepting the cup of tea and wrapping her hands around it.
“Thank you,” she murmured, letting the warmth seep into her. She wanted, needed, to say something... but she was at something of a loss as to what. She wanted answers. Needed answers. Maybe Polly could tell me something about the town... Did she really want to broach the subject now? Would asking about the lumbermill give too much away? Do something, Charlie. Don’t just let the terror get the better of you.
“Do... you know much about the abandoned lumbermill? I mean... it wasn’t always abandoned, was it?” Images of a cigarette rolling through a doorway, and a dead rabbit on a desk rose unbidden to her mind; with another shiver and considerable effort Charlotte forced them away.
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Polly
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What's that? Oh dear, I'm afraid we're all out of pepper.
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Post by Polly on Dec 2, 2010 20:13:14 GMT -8
"Well," Polly answered softly and slowly, oddly reminded of when her children were little and would come to her after a nightmare. All she needed was a rocking chair and a quilt. "Back as far as I can remember, this was a big lumber town. We used to have about ten times the people we do now. People would come from all around just to work in that mill. My husband, God rest his soul, worked there back when we first met.
"It only shut down a decade or two ago. There was a lot of tension between the owners and the unions, I think. You know how it is with industries lately. A lot of people lost their jobs and the town lost a lot of people. There was a lot of talk about doing something with the building--there always is, when something that important to the town dries up like that--but nothing ever came of it. They just left it to rot there, just like the rest of the town." She realized some old bitterness was creeping into her voice and changed the subject.
"Like I said, my husband used to work there. Back in those days, I used to clean houses, you know. Houses and businesses. I always wanted to start my own business, you know. I used to peek in ledgers at night after everyone'd gone to try and figure out how it all worked together." She smiled without meaning to.
"We met while I was cleaning offices at the lumbermill, you know. I was sitting on the floor, scraping gum out from under some big executive's desk. He came in to leave some papers on the desk and tripped over me. The papers went flying all over the room, I remember that. I looked out from under the desk and there they were, floating down like some kind of snow storm. Then I saw this handsome man clutching his foot and swearing. It was love at first sight. I had a shoe-shaped bruise on my leg for weeks after."
Polly looked over at Charlotte to see if she'd calmed down any.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 3, 2010 2:43:09 GMT -8
Charlotte found listening to Polly talk oddly calming. Distracting, at the very least. I don’t think anything could calm me right now... But she no longer felt as though she were about to jump out of her skin. And she learned more about the lumbermill... but nothing that could possibly explain what happened there. Which had been what she’d hoped.
Polly's story about meeting her husband made Charlotte smile. It was just so... sweet.
She took a final sip of tea, and went to set down the cup... only to realize that she’d gone and left bloody smears all over it. Oh hell.
“I’m sorry...” she told her with a tired, apologetic smile, “I should have thought to take care of my hands first.”
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Post by David Young Henning on Dec 3, 2010 7:11:58 GMT -8
The usually self-possessed Henning had the occasional craving for chocolate, and it was coming upon him now. He'd just been getting ready for bed when he remembered the vending machine downstairs, so he'd set off from his room, sleeves rolled up and tie loosened. Halfway there, he heard voices from the lobby. It sounded like Polly, telling one of her stories, that grandmotherly tone both soothing and captivating. He smiled, not wanting to interrupt, until he rounded the corner and saw who she was talking to.
"Charlotte?! Oh my god, what happened to you?"
He started towards the two women and almost tripped over Willie, who was sitting at Charlotte's feet, but still he didn't take his eyes off her. Her red hair lay tangled across her shoulders and part of her face, but it couldn't obscure the patches of blood drying on her brow, or the fresh bruises covering her skin. He swung round and looked at Polly, his mind focused completely on the task at hand instead of the possibilities, the inevitable questions: Who did this? How could they be apprehended? Did this have anything to do with the birdman, or Anna's murderer? That could all wait. For once, it could wait. He put her hand on Charlotte's arm, and his fingers came away sticky with crimson.
"Polly, she needs to get to a hospital. Do you mind if I drive her there? How long has she been sitting here for?"
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 3, 2010 8:03:09 GMT -8
Charlotte started at the sound of David’s voice, jerking her eyes from the bloody teacup on the table to him. He looked oddly relaxed, with his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up (Don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this)... except for the expression on his face. She’d never seen a smile slide off someone’s face in quite that fashion...
“David...”
Even as battered and bruised and tired as she was... she still felt something inside her ease slightly at the sight of him. She... felt safe, for the first time since she'd tumbled out of the lumbermill back into the rain.
She was at something of a loss as to what to say though... and that wasn’t even adding the bump on the head into the equation. She hadn’t wanted him to catch her like this. Not that she’d have been able to hide all the injuries, even without the blood and dirt as evidence. She didn’t want him to worry. Charlotte thought he was probably trying to figure out who had done this to her, and what could be done to apprehend them. What could she tell him? 'I fell down a metal staircase running for my life from a mysterious figure that smokes and weird shadow zombies.'? No. I can’t tell him the truth. Not all of it. She could tell him the part he would believe, at least.
She hissed as he touched her arm, too tired to hide the pain from him. Distractedly and without thinking she echoed her actions from the dining hall earlier and covered his hand with her own.
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Polly
Junior Member
What's that? Oh dear, I'm afraid we're all out of pepper.
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Post by Polly on Dec 3, 2010 17:30:46 GMT -8
Polly was very, very glad to see Charlotte smile. Of course Polly was frightened, but she was concentrating for the moment on pulling Charlotte out of the little ball of fear she had wrapped herself into. Which is why it came as such a relief.
She was so focused on calming Charlotte down, that she was actually surprised when Charlotte called attention to the blood running down her fingers. "Oh my. Don't worry about that, dear, don't worry about that at all. Are you feeling any better--"
Polly turned toward the male figure that had started striding toward them, startled. Oh, it was Mr. Henning. She was a bit relieved, because they needed a little help. "I agree, Mr. Henning. But I'm not the one you should be asking." She nodded at Charlotte. She noticed that the young woman seemed very glad to see him, and smiled behind her hand.
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Post by David Young Henning on Dec 4, 2010 0:41:29 GMT -8
Charlotte's voice was so faint, so unlike the way she had first spoken his name earlier that morning, that Henning could hardly believe it was coming from the same woman. At any rate she was in no condition to be explaining herself. He squeezed her hand and said to Polly, very quietly so as not to upset Charlotte, "Thank you for watching over her, but we've got to get her to a doctor. Is there anything I should know before we leave? Did she say anything about what happened to her, who could have done this?"
While he spoke, he was already in the process of lifting Charlotte from her chair, gently putting her arm around his shoulders. Her hair brushed against his face, bringing with it the unmistakable smell of smoke... and something else. An odor he couldn't identify, but which seemed somehow familiar... He shook it off and concentrated on the current task of moving Charlotte without causing her too much pain. He realized he was talking under his breath, a soft, continuous litany like a prayer or hymn:
"It's okay, it's okay. You can do it. I'm here. We're going to get you some help, Charlotte. Everything is going to be fine. You're going to be okay..."
Even as he said the words, he wondered who they were really meant to comfort.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 4, 2010 3:41:13 GMT -8
((Wasn’t entirely sure how Henning was moving her... Thought he was carrying her at first... If I’m wrong, I can tweak it. Though it can SORT of work either way... Sort of.))
Charlotte pressed her head into the crook of David’s neck, almost like she was trying to steady herself. His lifting her gently from the chair where she’d been curled had caused the room to start spinning in a very lopsided manner. Oh fuckstockings. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the spinning sensation was still there. Lessened, but still there. She could hear him quietly addressing more questions to Polly... She wanted to thank the older woman for all that she’d done... but she was rather busy concentrating on being dizzy. Or on trying NOT to be dizzy.
I wish I could tell you what really happened. All of it. She wanted to trust him with it... but she knew how crazy it would sound. Hell, she’d BEEN there and it still seemed a little crazy. But after seeing her camera, after having POLLY see her camera, she knew she wasn’t. She shivered. I’m not. No matter how much it might seem like it.
Taking a deep, steadying breath (He smells good...) Charlotte opened her eyes. The room wasn’t spinning as badly as it had been. She no longer felt like she was going to fall off the edge of the world, at least. David was keeping up a steady murmur of reassurances. The funny thing was... she believed him. How is it he makes me feel so safe?
“It was an accident,” she told him softly. “Just an accident.” Wasn’t being careful enough. Too busy being terrified out of my mind. “I think I’m bleeding all over your shirt,” she added absently.
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Polly
Junior Member
What's that? Oh dear, I'm afraid we're all out of pepper.
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Post by Polly on Dec 4, 2010 18:32:06 GMT -8
Polly couldn't quite hear what Henning had asked her. She cursed her ears and held out her hands to steady Charlotte as her knight in armor lifted her from the chair. She heard Charlotte reply to him, although Polly still couldn't understand what either of them were saying. When she was sure Henning had a good grip (Charlotte looked...slippery, Polly thought, and then shied away from that image), she moved to the front door, threw it open, and held it for him.
It was still raining, and surprisingly windy. She started suddenly, then loudly called, "Do you have your keys, Mr. Henning?" She hoped he did, because they couldn't exactly go back for them now. They could use Charlotte's keys, she supposed, but searching for them wouldn't exactly be pleasant.
But that reminded her of the camera. Were those Charlotte's bloody fingerprints? If not, whose were they? And those ashes...Polly wished she had gotten dressed before she had left her room. Her nightgown and tattered robe just didn't seem substantial enough somehow.
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Post by David Young Henning on Dec 4, 2010 21:14:37 GMT -8
[Didn't really think about it, but let's just say he's flat out carrying her for the sake of a description; she's probably light enough that Henning could pick her up. ...Also I couldn't think of a way to work a Willie reference into this post, but he's welcome to tag along if he so wishes!]"Keys... I think I have them. I'll worry about that when I come back." He squinted out the open door into the slate-colored shapelessness awaiting them outside. Polly's white hair and flapping nightgown made her look like a frail ghost, one gust away from being sucked into the wind and wetness. The hotel owner didn't seem to have heard his first question, but they had to get going. Charlotte's head lolled against his shoulder, her pale lips moving; the wind howled around them and he could barely hear what she was saying. An accident? Then what are you so afraid of? He could feel her trembling against him, and the darkness surrounding the hotel was like a tangible thing. He bent his head and whispered, "It's fine. It's just a shirt." He turned sideways, one foot on the threshold, preparing to make the treacherous journey across the parking lot to his car. "Polly," he said, voice raised over the lash of the rain, "Can you give Emily Wyatt from the Sheriff's department a call? Tell her to meet us at the hospital. If she's not there, leave a message for her and I'll phone again after I make sure Charlotte's being taken care of." With that, Charlotte's warm body weighing heavily in his arms, Henning stepped through the doorway and out into the drowned shadows beyond.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 4, 2010 23:37:17 GMT -8
Charlotte had the vague idea to tell David that she could walk, honest, but she wasn’t entirely sure he’d let her, if he even believed her in the first place. And it (was) felt warm and safe in his arms, which helped ease the fear that had so haunted her this day, and still hovered in the dark, waiting. So she curled close against him, and let him carry her. She bit her lip against the agony that was coursing through her. She refused to make him worry any more than he already was.
She felt... disconnected slightly, like David was the only thing keeping her tethered to the here and now. It was a weird feeling, and she’d never in a million years tell him. Probably just the head wound anyway.
He called out to Polly, something about... Emily, and calling her? Please don’t get the sheriff’s department involved. Please. Then he carried her out the doorway and into the rain. She tilted her head up towards his, ignoring the water streaming down her face. She’d gone and dragged him out into the rain again, she realized suddenly, watching the rain soak his hair and face... and he didn’t even have his umbrella. Or his suit coat.
“I just fell down some stairs... I wasn’t paying attention and I fell,” Charlotte told him, trying desperately to get him to understand that her injuries were from the fall, and nothing else. That no one had done anything to her. Other than terrify me into running for my life.
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Post by David Young Henning on Dec 5, 2010 16:44:42 GMT -8
After what seemed like hours in the rain, but could have only been a few minutes, Henning managed to reach his car. It was a black shadow set against black tarmac, black trees, black sky; the wind shrieked as it tore through the slashed curtain of water, everything a silver crosshatching. Carefully, he leaned down so that Charlotte's boots were touching the ground, then fumbled with his newly freed hand for his car keys. He was still supporting her with his other arm, but it still felt like gravity might claim her at any moment. He set about unlocking the passenger door, murmuring all the while, not even quite sure that she was listening to him.
"Stay on your feet, Charlotte. You'll be able to sit down in just a second. ...There we go. Hold on for just a while longer, okay?"
He was in the process of blindly trying to get her seatbelt fastened before he noticed that she too was mumbling something under her breath. He leaned closer, partly to hear her better, partly to shield her from the storm. She was trying to tell him she'd fallen down some stairs. He almost laughed, not to be cruel, but out of a creeping sense of hysteria that seemed to be coming from a source other than himself. As if it was pouring from the skies above with the rain.
"Charlotte," he said softly, the wind howling at his back. "You don't have to explain it to me now. Just rest. Try to keep yourself awake, but... Just rest. Please."
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