Closed - So no one told you life was gonna be this way....

[tolduimapsycho]

Who: Mister Scratch, Alan Wake, and Alice Wake.
Where: Bird Leg Cabin
When: Just after Alan and Alice arrive on July 4th.
What: Deja vu evidently now comes with the world's worst roommate.
Warnings: Language, knives, mentions of violence and stalking, awful bachelor living.


Besides the part where it's in the middle of the desert instead of in the middle of a lake, the Cabin is exactly as you remember it. Vaguely owl-like in appearance, almost cute were it not for the memories attached. Before even entering, you are aware that the interior is Dark. Not just dark, but Dark, in a way that you can feel as you come closer.

Faintly, inside, you can hear music coming from upstairs - some distant, weird, godforsaken bubblegum pop sort of ditty that feels distorted by wooden walls and circumstance.

The door is locked.

Lucky for you - or unlucky, depending on your frame of mind - the current occupant is no longer the only one with a key.

Comments

[afraidofthedark]

Alice isn’t exactly sure how she feels about the fact that she’s been... given a key to the very cabin where this had all begun; her hazy memories of darkness, of falling, water. Calling for Alan. Swimming to the surface of the lake and being found by Sheriff Breaker. Alan vanishing even as she returned.

(He’d saved her.)

The fact that it’s here at ALL is... disturbing. But it won’t happen again. It can’t. She won’t let it. She’ll save him just like he’d saved her.

It FEELS the same, though. The cabin. Dark, in a way that is palpable, and she finds Alan’s hand. Holds onto him tightly. He’s here with her. Beside her, the way she’s dreamt of for so long. The way she’s longed for. He’s right beside her, holding the flashlight while she unlocks the door.

[drowningman]

Alan is not particularly happy about the key to Bird Leg Cabin either, but he worries that if it's here then so could something, or someone, else. Whatever the case, it felt unwise to leave the place unchecked and unsupervised. Sometimes it's better to have too much caution than not enough.

That being said, he wouldn't stay here with Alice if it's too dangerous. They'd find somewhere else to go even if it was a bit of an inconvenience. He didn't want to put her in danger again.

When Alice grips his hand, Alan gives hers a tight, comforting squeeze. As long as they were together again? Everything would work out. He keeps his flashlight steady as she works on getting the door open, prepared for anything to happen but hopeful that nothing will.

[tolduimapsycho]

The door swings open...and three things immediately strike about the space.

One is that the furniture isn't exactly the same. It's adjacent, of course, but not quite the same as it was back in Bright Falls.

The second thing is that it's pitch black, heavy curtains drawn firmly shut, the shadows cold and writhing just at the edges of where the flashlight lands.

The third thing, however, is that it's FILTHY.

There are empty bottles of beer and liquor strewn about - dirty dishes set atop many surfaces - even a dried puddle of what appears to be blood smeared from the door towards the stairs. From upstairs, the music is still playing. A black necktie lies discarded at the foot of the stairs.

Someone starts whistling along with the music.

[afraidofthedark]

It’s better that they’re here than someone else. Probably. She thinks. Alice knows that she’s safe with Alan. No matter where they are. Or what happens. She presses closer to Alan at the sight of the shadows writhing at the edges of where the flashlight touches it, trying to force herself to breathe. Alan’s hand warmly holding hers has never felt more reassuring.

It’s... not how she remembers the cabin. Unless it somehow got messy in the time between she’d disappeared and returned. Or maybe it was something about it being here, in this place? She doesn’t know. It’s a WRECK, though. And they’re definitely not alone. Between the music and the whistling that joins it... they’re not alone in the cabin.

[drowningman]

Wow, this place has become kind of a dump. What sort of Darkness Chad lives here, he can't help but wonder.

As he looks inside and sees the pools of darkness here and there, he focuses his flashlight on them to dispel them away. When the entrance looks clear of them, he steps in first with a firm grip still on Alice's hand.

"Knock knock," he calls out, "Anybody home?"

He already knows there's someone there - he too hears the whistling - but it's more about making their presence known. Ensuring that if they get stabbed by someone it's deliberate and not accidental from someone defending against home invaders. Hopefully they won't get stabbed at all.

[tolduimapsycho]

Deep down, you already know the answer to that, Alan.

Under the beam of the flashlight, the oily black pools scorch away, evaporating into thin air. Other than those, the way seems safe enough...unless you count the tripping hazards of bottles and cans, that is.

When Alan calls out, the whistling pauses for just a moment.

Then it resumes. Louder. The music is turned up.

Whoever it is knows you're here.

[afraidofthedark]

Staying close to Alan and still holding tightly to his hand, Alice follows him through the door. Trying very hard not to balk. Her memories of the cabin aren’t good ones. And the darkness... Well at least when the oily pools of darkness burn away under his flashlight she breathes a little easier. Just a little. It’s still dark, and there’s still someone there. Who knows they’re there. Since the whistling and the music has both gotten louder since Alan called out.

[drowningman]

"Do you have a flashlight? We can stop here a moment for you to get it out if you do."

Alan is definitely dealing with his guilt about the last time they were here in real time and is making an active effort to not let it distract him right now. He needs to be calm for Alice, and better than he was in the past. Making sure she's armed with light and prepared for anything in regards to their unknown housemate seems like a good next step in handling this situation.

As he stays still a moment, in case she needs to stop and pull something out, he rubs on the back of her hand with his thumb and looks around now that they're inside the cabin. Making sure there's no birds hiding in the rafters or something - you never know.

[tolduimapsycho]

Luckily for Alan, there are certainly no birds.

The lamps and light fixtures are all missing their bulbs, though - and the thick curtains over the windows are nailed in place, haphazardly with long wood nails. The more you look, the more your eyes adjust, the more it's evident that the little cabin has been light-proofed...and also stocked with weaponry.

Disconcertingly, there appears to be a pair of bloodied pliers on the kitchen counter in the distance, as well as a hatchet on the floor next to the couch. There's even machete stuck in the coffee table at an angle, splintering the wood.

The whistling continues. There's another sound, too, but it's hard to make out from down the stairs.

[afraidofthedark]

Alice nods as she answers aloud. “Yes.” She’s thankful she does, now, with the darkness of the cabin. Alan’s thumb brushing across her hand is reassuring, and a comforting reminder that he’s there. They’re together again. She pulls out the flashlight and flicks it on. It’s eerie how... light-proofed everything is. The lightbulbs gone, the curtains nailed shut.

She’s got a bad feeling. And the bloodied pliers make that feeling worse.

[drowningman]

Seeing the cabin was unsettling enough already with the memories this place held. Seeing it light-proofed with bloodied tools and weapons strewn about makes the feeling of unease grow. He can guess who lives here, but he wants to know for certain - for better or for worse.

Once she has the flashlight out and is ready to continue, he leads the way to the bottom of the stairs. He stops and turns to her, taking a moment to kiss her gently.

"No matter what happens, I won't leave you alone again and I won't let you get hurt," he says, pulling back from the kiss just enough to look her in the eyes.

[tolduimapsycho]

The sound upstairs is steady, whatever it is.

A scraping.

And then some male humming.

The stairs are messy, strewn with cans, bottles, and discarded clothes. A few puddles of oily-black Darkness pool in the corners.

[afraidofthedark]

Alan kisses her, and despite the dark, despite the stranger upstairs she can’t help but smile against his lips and kiss him back. It’s going to be a very long time before she tires of kissing her husband. So she might linger there, against his lips, against HIM, for a moment. She slips her hand from his just long enough to cradle his cheek. “I know,” she tells him softly. She loves him, and she has faith in him. They’re together in this.

When he’s ready to keep going up the stairs she slips her hand back into his. Holding on tightly to him.

[drowningman]

That scraping sound is just... SO inviting. Alan grips her hand just as tightly in return as he turns to head up the stairs. He swallows the small emergence of nerves at the thought of this just being a run of the mill person who happens to be dangerously obsessed with knives, axes, and other sharp weapons and decided that a creepy shadow cabin would be a great place to live - but then he reasons with himself that all signs point to one person. And he's beat that asshole before, so things will work out.

As he steps up the stairs, one of them lets out a particularly loud creak and he winces. The Resident already knows they're here, and probably knows they're coming to investigate, but the dead giveaway on their pace and where specifically they are just sucks. After a moment of being annoyed at the stairs, he continues upward. He makes the turn at the landing in the middle of the stairs, readying himself for what's to come.

Alan checks the grip on his flashlight as he reaches the upstairs landing. He gives Alice another quick kiss on the lips before turning to the door to the bedroom.

Slowly, he pushes it open with the tip of his flashlight, and...

[tolduimapsycho]

...The sound of bubblegum pop and the grinding of knife on whetstone grows all too loud, cutting through the thick darkness of the bedroom suite. Laying on the bed, wearing nothing but boxers and surrounded by dozens and dozens of different knifes is...well, Alan. But not Alan.

Scratch blinks owlishly at the sudden light in the room, dropping the whetstone to shade his eyes.

Then he grins his too-wide, too-white smile, sitting bolt upright with malice shimmering in his dark eyes. "...HEY, BEST-SELLER! Fancy seeing YOU here, huh? How long's it been?" He doesn't get up, but the door does rattle and then throw itself violently open, slamming in against the wall with a bang. "Oh, AND the MISSUS? Hiiiiii, Alice...."

He has the look of a cat who just found the bag of treats and knocked it over. A team of girls continues singing an upbeat chorus, loud enough to make it hard to think.

[afraidofthedark]

A quick kiss before they open the door and find out who the hell is there. Alice steels herself as he pushes the door open, and...

Now, she’d known that Scratch was here; Alan had told her, had made sure to tell her that he was here. So she knew that there was something here wearing her husband’s face. It was logical, factual. But knowing turns out to be A LITTLE DIFFERENT from actually seeing. And something clicks when she sees him, lying on the bed in boxers, surrounded by knives, looking like Alan but not him at all.

A little realisation falling into place.

This is him. The thing wearing Alan’s face, the one that’s been breaking into her home and scaring her. What had led her to go to the FBC. The determined refusal to let any light in... the lightbulb breaking. It tracks. Oh god it tracks. She doesn’t like the look on his face. She doesn’t like the look on his face at ALL. “It’s you.” There’s very real fear in her voice, but anger, too.

And then she shines the flashlight right at him.

[drowningman]

He hates himself. Well, he hates seeing himself the way that Scratch wears him. But also, yeah, he hates himself.

Bury the self-hatred for five minutes Alan, this guy is surrounded by knives and he can poltergeist them without breaking a sweat. But before Alan can act or speak, he hears Alice speak and the tones of voice there. He feels so guilty, and that makes it harder to keep his self-loathing stuffed down.

"Not long enough," he answers to Scratch's taunting inquiry, and follows Alice's lead to hold his own flashlight beam directly on him as well.

"Let me guess - you live here, right?" He doesn't wait for an answer. It's already pretty clear. "We're going to discuss some ground rules then."

[tolduimapsycho]

"Aw, and here I was thinking I would have to scream for you to get i- FUCK, hey-"

It's all too quick that one flashlight beam comes to rest on him, then the other - he drops the whetstone he's holding to shield his eyes with it, darkness visibly roiling and peeling from his naked torso. (Check it out, Alan - this is what you would look like if you were in better shape, huh?)

"Ground rules. Really, you think you're the one with the bargaining power here? I got here first, Alan. Place is mine before it's yours."

The darkness roils over the array of knives.

[afraidofthedark]

She is angry and terrified in equal measure. And her grip on Alan’s hand speaks VOLUMES about both. But seeing the darkness roiling off of the thing wearing her husband’s face and his reaction to their flashlights is... both viscerally satisfying and reassuring.

The way the darkness gathers over his collection of knives... isn’t, and despite her terror she steps forward. In front of Alan. He’s just gotten free of the cage he’d been trapped in. She’s just gotten him back. She can’t lose him again. She won’t. “Well now it’s ours.”