[log] Event: Lavender's Green, Part Two [open]

[snowblindmods]

Characters: everyone
Location: mysterious, white hallways
Date: Day 193-194
Summary: Find friends. Get lost. Don't look.
Warnings: Potential for gore and psychological horror. Please note any specific warnings in your subject lines!

While confusingly similar, the area is split into a few different sections:

The Core
The hallways here are narrow and twist at a rapid rate. With how dazzlingly white everything is, it's easy to not realize you're coming on a turn and slam right into the walls. There are no rooms here--no one starts here, though they may find it while they wander. At the center is a large, round area, like the center of a spiral. There's a lot of air pressure here.

The Inner Hallways
The largest area, filled with dead ends, gentle slopes and twists, and, occasionally, difficult-to-see drops where a higher hallway intersects with a lower one without a wall to separate them. The whole place tastes vaguely like blood. Most rooms are here--most people start here.

The Outer Hallways
The outer ring of the ball of yarn. It's not as thick with halls and twists as the other two areas, leading to a lot more boring walking in one direction. It's totally possible to circle around the same path multiple times without realizing it, as everything is so similar here. Occasionally, footsteps can be heard just outside the farthest walls. Sometimes, something breathes. There are a few rooms here--some people will start here.


Remember to note what kind of eyes your character has in their top level!

Comments

[howdull]

So does he.

[And your point is?]

[thewarningafter]

Is this some kind of weird diversion tactic? Someone asks you an uncomfortable question, so you try to set them up with John? Because it's not exactly working.

[howdull]

I don't recall you asking me an uncomfortable question. It must have been very boring, or I'd remember it.

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen narrows his eyes at Sherlock. What a complete and utter twit.]

Right. Obviously you're not upset at all that John isn't talking to you since you offed yourself. Silly me.

[Why is he even trying? John was nice to him, sure, but Sherlock really isn't Stephen's problem.]

[howdull]

[His brows knit together in momentary confusion, something he covers quickly.]

I'm sure he has called me, the conversation must just have been so tedious that I tuned out.

[thewarningafter]

Look, if you're going to change your story every time it comes up --

[Then what? Stephen lets out a sigh. Hell with it. He feels kind of bad for John, but there's not much to be done about that without network access and without Sherlock spontaneously becoming someone who isn't a massive dick.]

Fine. Whatever. Not my problem.

[howdull]

I haven't changed my story, what are you talking about?

[His brow furrows, genuinely confused. Stephen doesn't have the mannerisms of someone lying to him.]

[thewarningafter]

Well, either he's ignoring your calls or he's too boring to remember talking to. Neither story's very good, by the way, but I get the picture. You don't want to talk about it. Okay.

[howdull]

[He doesn't respond, thoughts turned inward to try and track down the anomaly here. His recollections, or Stephen's apparent non-lies that don't match up. He lifts his hands preparatory to placing them in his customary thinking position and the slight sting of his left hand causes him to pause.

He turns that hand palm up, revealing words scratched into the skin using scab and blood for a record.]

No memory. Death price. Read tablet, talk to John.

[thewarningafter]

[Alright, this behavior is becoming downright erratic. Something feels off here, beyond what can be explained by reticence born of emotional constipation. Stephen glances at Sherlock's palm when he turns it upward, catches sight of a series of scratches that only just resolve themselves into letters from his perspective.]

The hell did you do to yourself?

[Just going to shift over to get a better look at that.]

[howdull]

[He doesn't even try and hide his hand, just staring at it with dawning horror. His mind, he can't trust his own mind. God, no. His chest begins to flutter with ever more rapid breathing, panic beginning to set in.]

No. No, no, no, NO! Think, come on, think, damn you.

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen gets a good look, then. He flips back through the conversation in his mind -- anterograde amnesia explains the shifts from topic to topic, the changing stories, John's apparent failure to talk to Sherlock after his death. Clear enough that Sherlock's gone through this discovery before, likely with John on the other end of the phone line.

Shit.]

Breathe.

[He says it with all the authority he can muster.]

You've been through this before, you've left yourself notes. You're functioning, well enough I didn't catch it. Deep breaths, slow it down.

[howdull]

Shut up. It's impossible to think with your bleating about inanities, I know how to breathe, I've been doing it since the day I was born!

[It comes out in a venomous hiss between panted breaths that prove he does not know how to breathe at this moment in time. His eyes squeeze shut and he reaches for his mind palace desperately, badly shaking hands in a steeple under his nose.]

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen did not enter the medical profession owing to a natural, sparkling bedside manner. He sucks in an offended breath, but Sherlock's success in shutting him up is only momentary.]

By all means, hyperventilate; I'll probably be able to catch you when you black out.

[Stephen isn't actually happy with himself for the rather practical thought that if Sherlock did black himself out he'd probably forget why he was panicking by the time he woke up.]

[howdull]

I'm not going to black out!

[It's a shout that echoes off the walls that box them in. He closes his eyes fiercely, ignoring Stephen, and tries to focus inwards. Think. He just has to think and he'll find the keys to remembering, his mind-- nobody could rule his mind but him.

He was...

This was...

His breathing evens out after about twenty seconds or so, and at around thirty seconds he opens his eyes and smirks.]

I wasn't aware this was a maze of mirrors.

[thewarningafter]

[Despite the protest, Stephen poises himself to make the catch -- won't do anyone any good if Sherlock knocks his head on the floor and gives himself a concussion. It's a relief when the other man's breathing slows and he can relax his own stance, though the faint hope that he's somehow calmed himself rapidly gives way to confirmation that he's instead forgotten why he was upset in the first place.

Forgotten their entire conversation, it seems. Stephen swallows a little thickly before putting on his own smirk, deciding right then and there that it's not worth setting Sherlock off again, and knowing that's all he'll accomplish if he calls attention to it. He can do this. He can banter.]

Think I found a faulty one. You really should try a beard.

[howdull]

No, I don't think so. Beards are the last refuge of men with weak chins or those too lazy to keep themselves presentable.

[His smile widens.]

Besides, it ages you.

[thewarningafter]

[Okay, he opened himself up to that one, particularly since the goatee isn't all that well trimmed these days. Hasn't been trimmed at all since he got here, actually, and isn't likely to be any time soon. At least Sherlock isn't questioning how they came to be talking to one another.]

You realize you just insulted your own chin?

[Ages him, ugh, shut your stupid schoolboy face.]

[howdull]

I said or, clearly you fall into the latter category.

[His chin is magnificent, that's why it doesn't need to be covered with any kind of scruffy facial hair.]

[thewarningafter]

Yeah, well, let me know when you find a trimmer.

[He normally puts quite a lot of time into it, actually. He's just not likely to be able to do anything about it here unless someone else shaves him, and that seems humiliating like a colossal waste of everyone's time.]

Were you going anywhere in particular, or is the plan to just stand there and insult my personal hygiene?

[howdull]

I was...

[Wait, what was he doing? Where was he going? His expression flickers into mild concern, before his mind protects himself by forcing him to think in a different direction.]

...simply stopping to ascertain your identity and state of wellbeing. That done, I will be on my way.

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen's gaze is perhaps too intense in that split second as he waits to see what Sherlock's brain will make of the question -- but there it goes filling in, right on schedule.

The human brain truly is a wonderful thing.

Still, now that he knows what's going on, he feels a certain degree of responsibility for Sherlock's safety.]

I wouldn't mind company, myself.

[howdull]

[He sees that intensity, but it doesn't click into place until the offer. He raises an eyebrow.]

I don't need supervision, Dr. Strange.

[Why would he have concern as a medical professional? That makes no sense, there's nothing wrong with Sherlock at all.]

[thewarningafter]

Of course not.

[Don't cause another meltdown, don't cause another meltdown....

If Stephen can get him talking long enough, maybe Sherlock will assume he actually chose to stick together when he forgets his objection and finds himself still mid-conversation.]

You were looking for John, right?

[howdull]

[It's a good plan, but Sherlock is still an expert at deduction even if he can't remember what's come before.]

Wrong.

[He raises an eyebrow.]

If you find him, tell him to come to the core and be quick about it.