[log] The Pit [open]

[snowblindmods]

Characters: Anyone participating in the Pit event.
Location: A room.
Date: Day 330
Summary: You wake up in a room.
Warnings: general warnings; potential for morbid/suicidal thoughts; note specific warnings in subject line, please!

Comments

[warriorscribe]

Not that this is fake, but...sometimes it seems as if there's nothing we can do, but waiting reveals a course of action.

[That's much more relevant than whether or not he's okay.]

...It's in everyone's head. It reminds me of a demon. Couldn't say exactly why. It might be best to wait.

[He says that, but...well, he's never kept his head on straight when it comes to protecting people in danger.]

[cahooted]

Well, I'm not going down there. There are teeth down there, like, actual teeth? You know what teeth do? They chew. Granted, I've never been chewed before but I am not willing to find out what it's like.

[Only the thoughts in his head say the opposite. Flynn pulls a face at the idea of a demon, luring them in with some sort of magic spell. Not that he has ever dealt with a demon but if it's anything like the supernatural run-ins he has had before it sounds like really bad news.]

... I don't like waiting.

I especially don't like waiting in a room with a teeth hole.

[warriorscribe]

Waiting is better than the alternative. The pit is the only other thing in here, and I've seen at least three people testing the walls. Waiting worked the other times...trust me.

[Even the tower... Though they didn't like what they waited for. The passage of time did weaken the brainwashing's hold.

He looks away at the thought of the place, though, fighting a new wave of urgency to jump. To get away if he's made to harm others again. But if that thing down there is a demon, jumping will make him into a weapon against everyone anyway.]

cw: suicidal ideation

[cahooted]

What is the point of this?

[He doesn't understand and it eats at him. Flynn starts pacing back and forth, hands opening and closing as he mutters angrily to himself.]

Why are we here? Why these games? Is it a game? Is somebody watching? Did they say 'oh hey, you know what would be amazing to do today? Put the people in a room with a giant pit'. And then someone else went like 'Oh right, that's great. We could see if they find their way out'. And then the first one goes 'No, let's just put intrusive thoughts in their head and watch them commit mass suicide'.

[warriorscribe]

I don't know - sometimes, there isn't a reason, sometimes we're not given one. For all that we know, it could be simply that our nanomachines were confused. They directed us down here and perhaps if we wait Eve will put us back where we belong. It's not the first time we've been moved during the night.

[It's not the same as that time. Maybe like the other white room?]

It could be Andromeda trying to show us something but failing to do so. Or being interrupted.

Or...

[Nope, that's as much thought as he can muster. Beyond that or there's only an indistinct haze of ideas. Bits and pieces but nothing he can string into words.]

[cahooted]

Right. [Right. Right, right, he needs to focus.]

Well, whatever it is, maybe we should... maybe we should step away from the edge. [He doesn't want to but the suggestion comes easier when he focuses on his worry and Enoch's tired face.]

Don't you think?

[warriorscribe]

[Enoch looks down at the pit. It's a little closer to him than when he sat down. He was focusing on potential other threats to other people, with what focus he has.

He scoots himself over a little further, a glance at the edge of the pit with a tiny frown as if silently asking it to stop.]

...We don't seem more pressed for space, do we?

[cahooted]

No, we... don't.

Which is weird, because that's usually how these death traps work, you either have the walls closing in, or a spiked ceiling, or drowning and a spiked ceiling, or walls that push you into the pit... [His voice trails off into a distracted mutter as he turns in circles, studying the layout of the room.]

This is all wrong.

[warriorscribe]

Do you think there are two forces at work here? Something wants us to jump, but the room is...it must be widening, too.

[Why else would the pit and walls grow? He doesn't come to the other solution, that whatever is widening the pit is actually giving them a choice not to if they really want it, because that's just a little more complex than he can handle while also trying to make sure the Joker doesn't kill anyone else on such little sleep to focus on.]

[cahooted]

So it... wants us to jump on our own accord?

[He glances over to the pit, again drawn in by the horrifying urge.]

That's messed up.

[warriorscribe]

...Oh. That makes more sense, I suppose.

[He blinks back at the pit.]

Does it...not know how to ask? Not understand why it needs to, perhaps?

[This is not helping. Good thing he has that promise to keep him up here. For a little while longer, at least.]

[cahooted]

[No, this isn't helping at all, and Flynn just stares at Enoch's tired face.]

Not understand? Are you... are you defending the killer pit that messes with our heads?

[warriorscribe]

No, but...it might be the entity. The thing Andromeda says doesn't understand. I've met beings that...don't know any better. That doesn't mean they ought to be excused or that we should obey but- but it's not the same as...as...

[He flicks his hand towards Flynn, as if handing the subject off to him. You know what he's getting at, right?

Except then the words come to him.]

...as if it was the demon I fear it might also be. Intent means little but not nothing here.

[cahooted]

[He exhales, rubbing his face and trying to calm his nerves.]

No, I... yeah. Yeah, of course. I get what you mean. I just don't like it.

[warriorscribe]

I don't, either. I don't intend to find out what it wants if that's how it chooses to invite us.

[There is a point where, if there's no obvious distress going on, Enoch will take care of himself first.

...Except not really, because his reason for remaining up here is entirely Angel-based.]

[cahooted]

Good. That's good. Because, yeah, we should definitely stay up here and not follow the weird intrusive telepathy invitation.

[He's not entirely sure if he's trying to convince himself or Enoch.]

Maybe we can help others, too. To not... follow the invitation. [This sounds so much better than 'jump' at this point.]

[warriorscribe]

Of course. Any sort of distraction might help, a conversation, a reminder...

[He looks up and around the room.]

I'm...more worried about those who might push others in, honestly.

[cahooted]

Push others...

[He pales. That thought seems so outlandish to him that it didn't even cross his mind up until now.]

You think they would?

[warriorscribe]

The Joker is here. He certainly would. He murders for the fun of it, senselessly.

[There's a ragged trace of bitterness slipping into his voice, the ashes of whatever it was inside him his anger at Clayton's murder had burned away being stirred.]

[cahooted]

[That's an... odd tone for Enoch and Flynn pauses, trying to place it.]

Did he attack you before?

[warriorscribe]

A dear friend. The first person I've dared to call my brother since I was mortal. It was a misguided attempt at reclaiming my own mortality, but the strength of the bond remains.

We both knew he was dangerous. But he went with the Joker anyway - he was wounded, and he wouldn't deny him healing.

[He draws and exhales a breath shakily, through bitterly gritted teeth.]

Without provocation, he turned on the physician who was treating his wounds, and killed him. He never returned. And to that twisted fool, it was nothing more than a joke!

[cahooted]

[His face softens at the story.]

I'm sorry, Enoch. What was his name?

[It seems like the decent thing to ask.]

[warriorscribe]

Clayton. If you're in the west of the more normal side of town you might still see the things he left behind.

[He bows his head and curls up just that bit tighter. He may have given Clayton a proper goodbye, he may have let go in a way he never had before, but the injustice of his death still eats at him.]

[cahooted]

I'll keep my eyes open. [Flynn recognizes the emotions all too well; the anger and bitterness, remnants of pain and the unfairness of losing someone dear to you in such a violent, unjust way.

Leaning in, he puts his arm around the other man's shoulder to give him a brief, comforting squeeze.]

[warriorscribe]

[Enoch leans into the hug on instinct. He always needs them, whether or not he acknowledges it. Affection starvation is just a side effect of your best friend for three hundred years being incorporeal, after all...]

Thank you.