snowblindrpg | [log] fuck [closed]

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Entry tags:

[log] fuck [closed]

Characters: Alfie Solomons, Emily Kaldwin, Gregory House, John Watson, Royce Melborn, Tifa Lockhart
Location: building 120 and building 101
Date: evening of 190 to morning of 192
Summary: when you see "House" and "Royce" in the same log you know it's gonna be a party
Warnings: ear removal

Catch-all for EVERYTHING - death, murder, torture, yelling, etc. Top-level and tag as you see fit.

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[Tifa doesn't hear anything, so she's still focused on the mess in front of them. House pushes past her and she lets him, although she keeps herself planted between Royce and the door, because she doesn't trust him right now. He gets one more scathing look before she turns, her focus on Emily. She's half-tempted to tell Alfie to get away from her.]

Emily, it's okay. We're safe, I promise.

No. [A plea.

She regards Alfie through the crack in the door. It's too convenient. It's too close to when it happened last, and she remembers it too well. How she felt. What it was like. There's some peculiar about Alfie, looking at Royce, looking back at the others. The brows, furrowed. Something is happening she isn't aware of, she knows, though she thinks it's something else.] No!

[All at once, she swings the door open and slaps it directly into Alfie.] Miss Tifa, Mister House! Hurry!

The town is going to make them do bad things!

[ Royce just stares up at the ceiling, thoroughly distracted by the music. He lets House go, lets Tifa go, lets Alfie go. Lets Emily. He's scared, and he doesn't like it. Carefully, Royce just sinks back, leans against the wall, frowning.

Go. He doesn't want to talk to any of them, anyway. ]

[As soon as the door is open, House is out, racing past Emily in bare feet across the landing. In any other circumstance, he'd snag the girl and drag her with him, but that music... that music and the static...

House makes it into the bedroom where he'd been before and slams the door shut, pushes the chair he'd been using up under the handle, then drags every other piece of furniture that isn't too heavy or bolted down over to the door to use as a blockade.

He's not dying tonight. He's not dying tonight. He's not dying tonight.]

[Alfie doesn't try to stop him. It's hitting him now, too. He's scared, but not of anybody in particular. He's sad, but he isn't sure why. Because of Emily, maybe? Because of her upset; because of her seeing too many things that she shouldn't have to see. But it's also more than that, and that circles back around to scaring him.]

Tifa, Emily--

[He doesn't know how to finish that sentence.]

Do you hear that?

Hear what?

[It comes out sharp and impatient, and she's already stepping forward to smooth her fingers through Emily's hair and reach for her hand. She's about two seconds away from dragging Emily from the room so she doesn't have to be near Alfie and Royce for the night.]

[As House barrels out of the bathroom, Emily stumbles to the side and into the doorframe, trying to stay out of the way. She doesn't follow him, though feels like running, too.

Instead, she stays by the door, pausing briefly. She looks at Tifa rather than anyone else. They are starting to do bad, she thinks. It's starting.] I don't hear anything.

Miss Tifa, please come out of there! They are going to hurt you! Like last time--like with us! When the town made us do bad things!

The music. [ Royce says, distantly. The song is over, but he's replaying it in his head, trying to make sense of the words. ] There was a song.

I'm not going to do anything else. [ He tells them, looking over at the rest of his party slowly. ] But go, if you want.

It was an old children's song. It doesn't matter.

[Still crouched, Alfie looks from Tifa to Emily.]

We're not gonna hurt her. We're not gonna hurt you.

[Tifa steps out of the bathroom finally, one hand resting protectively on Emily's shoulder. In her wildest dreams, she would never think Alfie or Royce would hurt Emily, but at this point she just doesn't want them scaring her more. Tifa doesn't respond to either of them, her eyes still on Emily.]

Should we go sit down and talk, Emily? We can stay in one of the bedrooms for a little bit.

[When Tifa gets into reach, Emily shoots her arms out to cling to whatever she can get--the arm, the hand. Her wide, dark eyes leap to Royce and Alfie uncertainly, maybe a little apologetic, a little worried.

Again, she glances at Tifa, then nods affirmatively.]

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