finalflight | OPEN POST; [ JAMES SUNDERLAND / SILENT HILL 2 ]

[ Oh, the eerie silence that permeated the space before the monster made itself known slams down again like a ton of bricks. Ivan's pulse thunders in his ears, a heartbeat that refuses to cease no matter how many decades go by, no matter how grievous the wound.

It shouldn't matter if he gets hurt. Yet, in this one moment, to this one man, it matters, and Ivan doesn't know what to do with that. ]

... Why not? It makes no difference.

[It does matter. It matters because if anyone here deserves to be injured in a fight, it’s James. It matters because he can’t allow himself to be selfish and let someone else bear pain for his sake.

But it also matters because Ivan simply does not deserve being trapped in this cycle where he’s grown to think it doesn’t. Ultimately, he only wanted to save his wife. And James…

Well.

He shakes his head.]

It does make a difference. It’s just putting yourself through… more punishment. And aren’t you already undergoing enough?

[ Who is bearing what for who, here? This is Ivan's trial, these things have manifested here because of him. If one of them must put their life on the line in the name of some kind of penance, it should be Ivan, immortality or no.

Ivan wanted to save his wife, yes, but he ruined so many lives to do it. They're no different, in the end.

Grim reapers are not mind readers, so there's no way for him to know what's truly going through James' head. Ivan can only take his words as they come. Aren’t you already undergoing enough? ]

Am I? [ A small, brittle laugh. ] It never feels like enough.

[ An admission, perhaps, that was a long time in coming. The silence persists, save the low rumble of the chainsaw in James' hand. In his other, something slips free of a groove in the scythe's handle and flutters to the dirt floor — a tarot card, depicting a reaper standing silently in a barren field. ]

[They'll have to agree to disagree on that much.]

Ivan... I know how you feel. [It never feels like enough. It feels like it'll always be a cross to bear, and maybe it's deserved. But no matter what James thinks of himself, he can always spare the grace to think better of others.] But that just isn't true.

[How long has he been doing this? How much more time does he have, living indentured to Death itself? It's awful to think about.

...He sees a card flutter down down. James blinks, eyes tracking it.]

Hey, what's that? Is it another... [The last card?]

[ He huffs out a breath, like he doesn't quite believe that, and bends to pick up the card, turning it over in his hand. ]

Roza never knew the things I did in the name of trying to save her. She just couldn't leave here bed after a while... She only ever asked me once why the doctor and the other villagers had stopped coming to see her. I didn't have the heart to tell her it was because we were the only two left.

[Couldn't leave the bed. Just like Mary, once the disease really took hold of her body.]

Was it... some kind of outbreak?

[To leave only two left? That would've been terrible. Terrifying.]

[ Oh, you sweet summer child. Ivan casts James a look that could almost skew towards pity, if he didn't look so damn sad instead. ]

It was me, James. In order to defy death, I needed life. Their lives.

[A look of surprise in this too-dim lighting, and then all the pieces snap together in his head, painting the full picture. James inhales faintly with this realization — a terrible kind of ritual that could save someone sick and doomed to die, enough to make Death itself demand recompense. Many lives taken for the sake of one.

Yes, it makes sense why this town would call Ivan here.]

...Oh.

Yeah. Oh.

[ That is honestly the correct reaction.

Now that they're seemingly alone again, Ivan makes his way back to the monument in the center of the room, bending to scoop up the remaining cards that were dropped there. ]

I don't think she'd ever forgive me if she knew. [ Roza's friends, her family. All of them gone. ] So why should I forgive myself?

[James steps forward, his chainsaw whirring to a full stop and the scythe still held in one hand. He's going to have to drop one of them soon, but until they're out of this room, he's holding onto both.]

I don't know, Ivan.

[That's not something he can answer in any reasonable, logical way. He's still figuring out how to forgive himself; he doesn't have the means to tell someone else how to do so.]

I just know that from what I've seen so far, you don't seem to be that person anymore. And I think that should count as something.

Mm.

[ Does it count for anything? It's not like Death is about to let him off the hook for good behavior, but... he learned pretty early into this reaper business that the souls under his care deserve more than to be treated with scorn. If he can't at least make their passing a little easier to bear, what good is he?

Does that make him a better person? A different person? He doesn't know.

Anyway, now with all the cards in his hand, minus the one still slotted into a seemingly random slot in the tablet, he fans them out to look. ]

So... what do we think?

[He doesn't expect to change Ivan's mind on the matter with a few words. But it's important that he says his piece. He doesn't know why, but he knows it must be. He wants him to hear it, that maybe one person who needs it will believe what he tells them, and it'll finally help. It'll reach them, in ways it never could reach Angela or Eddie.

He sighs, gaze drifting over the empty slots in the tablet. If he had any free hands, he'd scrub his face a little.]

Well... I guess we need to find the correct placement for all of these. Our first clue is "Be Not Afraid", so maybe the card with the screaming face shouldn't even be there.

We have six cards and six slots, so it must go somewhere.

[ He goes through the cards again, one at a time, since he's the only one with free hands to do so. ]

Sun, rain, clouds... wind? Seasons. Death, and... [ motions to the screaming face. ] Whatever that is. Fear?

[ Why do all of these things feel like they fit together... is it just him? Is this something that only makes sense in his brain? ]

[James closes his eyes — scrunches up his face a little. Murmurs…]

Why does this place always have to do this…

[Puzzle hell. Somehow, he tries to sort these images in his head, shuffling them around mentally.]

Wait, do you know the, uhh… [His brain is drawing a blank. It can only supply-] That “more cowbell” song, or something…

[Is he dating himself by knowing this— Wait, it doesn’t matter, Ivan is way older than him, anyway.]

[ The look James gets is less one of wondering what he's talking about and more of trying to figure out just where that reference slots into all this.

It clicks a moment later, and Ivan drags a hand over his face with an exasperated sigh. ]

Oh, do I ever know it. You didn't tell me this place had a sense of humor.

[James huffs, wry.]

Yeah, well. It's usually an ironic and unfunny sense of humor. But at least we can move on if we're right.

I'm assuming we just need to put them in the right order based on the song.

Probably.

[ He picks the card already in the tablet up and shuffles it over to what he deems to be the correct slot, then places the rest in after them.

Seasons. Fear. Reaper. Wind. Sun. Rain.

From the back of the room, there's a loud click. ]

[A small sense of relief when he hears that click. He glances towards the back of the room.]

...Good job. Let's take a look.

[Uh. But first. Holds out the scythe.]

You don't need an extra, do you?

Not particularly.

[ Says his mouth, but he finds himself reaching for it regardless, if only to see if it's really real or not. (It must be real. It spilled his blood. James was holding it.)

The moment he takes it in hand, it vanishes in wisps of shadow. ]

... So much for that. I guess we'd better keep moving.

[Damb. Guess that scythe was never meant to be.]

That's a shame. But I think the chainsaw suits me better. [Smiles faintly.]

Come on.

[TO THE BACK OF THE ROOM]

[ Away they go, the little light bobbing along with them. When they reach the wall at the back of the room, they'll find a lever jutting out from the stone. Ivan exchanges a brief glance with James, but ultimately figures that's their way out of here.

He curls his hands around it and pulls. And pulls.

It appears to be a little stuck. ]

What was all that for if the lever doesn't even work? [ He's so!! Sick of this place!! ] A little help?

[If a reaper can't pull that lever, he's not exactly sure how much he'd be able to help, but as if James will say no.]

Maybe you're overdue a visit to the gym.

[He's kidding.

But okay, he sets down his chainsaw for now and grips the lever with both hands, as well.]

On the count of three? One, two... three! [PULLS]

You're not— [ PULLS! ] —funny!

[ The two of them are enough, and maybe there's something to that, and the lever clicks into place, sending a portion of the wall sliding out of the way. They should be underground. They are underground, right?

So why is the rest of the graveyard suddenly right through this doorway? ]

... What.

[He's hilarious, what do you mean.

But the lever gives, and that wall slides out of the way. And they're greeted by...]

The graveyard again?

[Is it like, outdoors, or is it still inside the mausoleum. The second option would be nothing new to Henry, weirdly enough.]

[ Outdoors, though they've been dumped not too far from the entrance to the church. ]

Apparently. Physical space is really a suggestion around here, isn't it?

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