SCAWWY 😱 camille

[concoctive]

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Comments

wknd 0; saturday

[concoctive]

[ welcome to the cabin, unsettling and terrible in all of the ways a cabin in the woods so often can be. alfyn has changed and currently has his battle axe obscured under the back of his long, green vest, supported in its designated loop in the back of his belt as he carefully walks around. ]

Gods teeth. [ this is hissed out when the floor groans especially loudly, his foot abruptly lifting away from the board that he stepped on to cause it. ] Is there a single place in this cult-y village that isn't in crap state?

[ he's not sure if anyone else is here, at least besides them. he catches camille's presence out of the corner of his attention. but. ]

Watch your step?

[scrapdraught]

I'm watching.

[At least one of them is packing. Camille may have her clothes but she doesn't have anything materially useful on her, and that's starting to grate a little.

She keeps her steps ginger as she paces inwards, glancing around.]

If anything was too nice we might get attached to it. I kinda prefer it to be a little shitty, in that sense.

[No use getting stockholmed to anything.]

wk 0; friday

[concoctive]

[ girl you need to actually warm yourself up at the pyre but theater dissociation sounds about up his alley, also, when not staring into the blue flames.

alfyn pauses when he sees her just. wet and voidstaring, so he snaps his axe into the loop on the back of his belt and makes his way over to his chest, popping it open and pulling out the blanket that he grabbed when they first found themselves drawn to the theater.

and then he comes over, walking heavily and within her technical line of sight so he doesn't super spook her. the blanket gets dropped over her shoulders, even if she maybe already has one. ]

[scrapdraught]

[Alfyn my guy ;;]

Thanks.

[She takes a slow and steady breath.]

I heard this wasn't how you found the place.

wk 1; monday

[concoctive]

[ alfyn looks. so at home here, at the ranch. he's got a piece of fresh straw in his mouth, and he's crouched down in the barn to pet one of the cats in there while dani thumps her tail into the ground next to him. but the moment that she notices someone's joined them, she turns to do her greeting routine and alfyn pauses in what he's doing to greet camille with a lopsided grin.

there's still tiredness there, but by god is he keeping spirits up. ]

Hey, Cam! Gotta say, this place's a lot better than what's back at the village. Not really the kind of countryside I grew up with, but, y'know, still good. Animals are all friendly and the floor's not gonna fall out under us like it does in the theater.

[scrapdraught]

[oh my god.]

Looks like you're fitting in just fine.

[She'll wander in, watching her step lest she straw into a cow plop. She's still got her usual look, and that includes the leather ankle boots. They're not in pristine condition but she'd rather not track shit home with her.]

I was countryside-adjacent. The family business was hog-butchering. But we made enough money to live large, far from the pig pens and the bloodshed.

WEEK 1: Thursday

[scrapdraught]

[Hunting him down, please say we're back in our clown home]

Alfyn?

[concoctive]

[ for the time being! he's wandered back over once he's been cleared for full movement, though he probably won't be staying the night. ]

Hey, Cam. [ pats seat next to him, with a wan smile to go with his wan complexion. ] Wanna come sit around for a while?

WEEK 1: Saturday

[scrapdraught]

Hey, um. [Awkward. Camille approaches with the gait of a scorned teenager, not a woman in her mid-thirties. Arms around her middle and grimacing.] I wanted to say I'm sorry. I know insinuations of all kinds fly around, but...

[She holds. Looking at her feet.]

And I'm sorry about Erin, too. And Karma.

[concoctive]

[ i love you camille. alfyn looks up from where he's plucking the white, tiny flowers from the yarrow in his hands off the green stems and processes this apology.

and then he gives her a small but genuine smile. ]

Shucks, nothin' you gotta apologize for, Cam. I mean - I fit the bill, and I've got the axe for it. You're definitely not the only one that considered it. Promise I didn't take any offense for it.

For Erin, and Karma... at least we got an answer. I don't like it, and wish that tomorrow didn't have to happen, but. It's somethin', you know? The world's worst prize for bein' right.

wk 2; tuesday

[concoctive]

[ alfyn is heading into the side rooms out of curiosity, because - well, investigate the areas that you're saddled with, and all that. when he sees camille, later in the day, he raises his hand up in greeting -

and then, they get slam dunked by memshare time. he looks less than thrilled about this as it starts to happen, the scabbed cut across his own left eye pinching as his expression tightens. NOT AGAIN... ]

[scrapdraught]

[They're going on a memshare trip in the siderooms, help me

What she really ought to do is lock herself up for the week. Any time she meets another captive she's dunked head first into their dark past, like someone's trying to drown her in a toilet bowl.

This one is a mix. There is the warmth of friendship, quite a steady stream of calm. The doubt mounts though, and it's slowly becoming clear that the man he nobly rescued may not be worth the effort to save him. Lofty morals are easier to uphold when there's more laws in place, stricter watches, better tracking. This is a feudal space though, and people are quick to turn to a knife when the chips are down. Alfyn means well. More's the pity for him when pessimism proves triumphant.

Feeling the axe sink into Miguel's neck, though. She drops out of the vision with her hands aloft, perched on an invisible handle. She's sweating, shaking.

She hates the ones where she's made to kill the most.]

...Alfyn. [Her eyes close and she swallows, straightening. Wiping the sweat from her palms on her jeans.] I'm sorry.

wk 2; saturday

[concoctive]

[ he really wishes that he could pass something, anything, through the veil that she's stuck in. he gives a glance to aqua's, out of reach, but he's here for camille right now.

even if she doesn't want to talk to him right now, or has the worst things to say, alfyn still sits down across from her gay baby jail and looks at her with a deep, soulful frown. ]

... I'm sorry, Cam. I'm sorry this is happenin' to you. [ softly. ] Will you tell me what happened, Thursday night?

[scrapdraught]

[Hm.]

What would you like to know?

WEEK 3: Monday

[scrapdraught]

[They can be in the library too. We're done being sad as fuck (for now.)

At one point during their quiet library session Camille gently picks up Alfyn's arm

and bites into his hand.]

[concoctive]

[ it's safe here, less sad. hopefully.

alfyn's flipping through some books on medicines, trying to find the ones that he can actually read and what might be useful for the village.

he pauses when his hand is taken, and then. blinks. when he's bitten. ]

Ow. Cam..?

WEEK 4: Tuesday

[scrapdraught]

[laying down across a bench at their precious theatre, Camille's just staring at the ceiling and feeling along her new scar.]

...And I'm the only one who came back?

[concoctive]

[ alfyn's moved things around, some, but it's still their precious decrepit theater. he's puttering at the moment, rummaging in his chest, before he comes over with... a pillow! it's one from the camp cabins, and he carefully scoops his hand underneath camille's head to cradle it, lifting her enough to put the pillow beneath it and then nestling her head there again. ]

... yeah. Think we have Rondo to thank for that, along with everythin' else.

WEEK 4: Friday

[scrapdraught]

[At the bulletin, where all evidence has been masked. Camille looks shaken, hand at her mouth.]

...Oh god.

[concoctive]

[ he's not got much with him, to drop off, but alfyn still lingers there to wait and see who it is that will get posters.

and then he just locks up completely next to camille when they're displayed. ]

... no.

wk 4; sunday

[concoctive]

[ alfyn is sitting right goddamn there at the side of the swamp, waiting for camille to be spat back out by it. he's got a blanket with him and is just - tense, his hand down off the side of it and ready to grab her the moment she needs a lifeline to get the hell out of the mire.

somebody should give her one, at least once in her life. ]

[scrapdraught]

[Alfyn you are such a bro

Anyway it definitely is not pleasant. By the time she does resurface it is with a jumpscare burst of arms and desperate gasping. It felt like the damn thing meant to swallow her up for good.

Camille scrambles to the shore, spluttering, unseeing. Her hair's in the way and there's swamp sludge slopped all over her.]

WEEK 5: Monday

[scrapdraught]

[Meets this city boy in the...surgery room...yay.]

Jesus.

[Looking through the instruments like haha no thank you.]

Can you make use of any of this?

[concoctive]

[ y...yay...

he hisses softly through his teeth, grimacing and also exuding :grimace: emotions. ]

I think Dohter'd bring a glacier down on this place... [ he pokes at a few things, away from the sharp ends. ] A few things, probably, but I'm not seein' anythin' to numb the pain of goin' under a knife.

WEEK 5: Saturday

[scrapdraught]

[Where is Alfyn at...She will find him, hoarsely speaking up.]

Did you go to the swamp yet?

[concoctive]

[ tea garden, for the nature, i think. he does not look that great, now! he's pale, sweating, and has slight tremors that cause him to shudder every now and then. ]

Gods. Unfortunately.

WEEK 6: Market

[scrapdraught]

[Sends them shopping.]

I suppose it's back to doing the cooking ourselves.

[concoctive]

I looted iron cookware from the kitchens in those apartments last night, so at least we can do it fireside without much issue.

[ he's got one of those trick or treat candy buckets to put stuff in, along with a wicker academy basket for more delicate stuff. ]

Kinda miss the easy game from before we pissed off the dogwood tree the other week, though.

wk 6; thursday

[concoctive]

[ thanks he hates it! we're back at it again at the krispy swamp, and alfyn immediately goes to help pull her up out of it once it releases her from its clutches - she gets swaddled into a blanket immediately, just like after she was in the execution ritual. ]

I gotcha, Cam - we're all right here for you -

[scrapdraught]

[Okay well

The second he touches her her eyes go wide and she starts screaming, yanking away and nearly splashing back underwater.]

wk 6; friday

[concoctive]

[ well, it'll take a while, but alfyn can be found in the depths of the vineyard because it's so vast and quiet that he'll be able to just.

cry in peace for a while.

so that's how he's found, just. openly weeping, breath hitching and shoulders shaking and all. ]

[scrapdraught]

[Baby boy...

Camille is not feeling the Sazantos mood rn thank god so she will find him, wandering in a daze. She knows she can't touch him, lest she see him go up in flame again. Which makes it especially hard to watch, and only watch, as he sobs himself up a storm.

She comes hobbling, still healing and on pins and needles all over. But she takes a seat at his side, miserable as can be.]

...I'm sorry.

WEEK 7: THURSDAY

[scrapdraught]

[They are at the...Gashapon machine. Camille had frowned at the contents, sparking a dim sense of unease about the whole thing. Don't think I like finding my face in places I don't expect. Still, she tries her luck.]

...Aventurine.

[She holds it out for examination.]

I guess if anyone would appreciate merchandise of themselves...

wk 7; endgame

[concoctive]

[ after he's healed himself from getting smacked at mach fuck into the ground, alfyn will find camille and just. sidle up next to her to give her some physical contact, bumping into her shoulder and joining her in whatever she's up to after a very exhausting day. ]

Phew. How you holdin' up?

[scrapdraught]

[One thing you can count on her to be doing is pondering the night air with a lit cigarette. She takes the shoulder bump gamely. Bumps back.]

Peachy keen. I think you had a rougher time than I did, Alfyn.