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

[Plunging beneath, it's all darkness. A cold, cold void. Ivan's ball of flame lights all around him in a small halo, but... there's nothing to see.

Except, perhaps at a very far distance below, a little sliver of light. A weak, flickering beam. Like that from a pocket flashlight, maybe.]

[ It's not much, but it's enough to follow. Ivan puts on a burst of speed, swimming deeper to chase that sliver of light. The dark and the cold are oppressive, but he's survived worse.

But James? God, he doesn't know why he's made it his mission to keep this man alive, but he's fucking doing it. Death can yell at him for interfering later. He's seen how long James has left, and though that time is far from concrete, a thing that fate and chance can change if they so will it, it hasn't changed yet. Ivan means to make sure it doesn't.

So, get back here James Sunderland. He's pulling you to the surface whether you like it or not! ]

[That would be the ideal, and James would appreciate it greatly... But it seems it'll not be so straightforward.

As Ivan draws closer to the light, he'll see that its shine outlines the shape of the sunken car, now resting in the silt of the "lake" — specifically, the car interior, with the shadowed figure of James somehow trapped within the driver side. Small bubbles eke and rise from the edges of the doors, firmly locked. Whatever air there used to be within has clearly long vanished, which isn't ideal for James Sunderland himself, who has his hands pressed to the glass, futilely seeking a way out.]

[ Jesus Christ.

Ivan swims as fast as he's able, grabbing hold of the car's side mirror as soon as he's close enough. The water presents a problem, since it's not like Ivan can get the momentum to swing something as large and cumbersome as a scythe while he's here, and the clock is rapidly ticking.

Maybe it's the panic that compels him, maybe it's this town's way of getting under his skin and digging up old ghosts. Whatever it is, Ivan finds himself calling on abilities he long thought he left behind. He lifts a hand and frantically scratches a rune into the air — well, the water, light the color of sapphire trailing from his fingertips. The glass of the window fractures and bursts outward.

Ivan snaps a hand into the car to help pull James free, and once he is, the reaper slings an arm around him and kicks for the surface with all he's worth. ]

[Lucky him, getting to see Ivan's old magic at work. It's too bad James can't fully appreciate it right now; his body is in panic mode, and his mind is pulled in too many directions at once. The latter is also a haze, because he's pretty sure he's swallowed water, and oxygen is a rare commodity.

But ultimately, his magic works. The window shatters, and James is dragged out it, both of them trying to kick clumsily at the car to grant them momentum upwards. (His attempt is clumsier and weaker.) But there's nothing to stop them — up they go towards the surface, propelled mostly by Ivan's efforts. The swim feels like it's miles long.

Yet once they break the surface, they're not greeted by the interior of that tiny room anymore, but rather the wide expanse of more water all around. Fog ghosting along the surface. The sun above, trying to pierce through the thick layer of clouds in the grey sky. They're treading water right in the middle of Toluca Lake.

James reaches out to hook an arm onto the first floating object he sees nearby: a rowboat. He begins retching and coughing up lakewater miserably. His lungs burn like fire. Give him a moment.]

Edited 2024-11-09 13:13 (UTC)

[ They can both sit back and ponder what it is they’ve just witnessed once the worst has passed. For now, they surface in the frigid waters of the lake, and Ivan clings to the boat (how convenient) with one hand while keeping the other on Jame’s back, ready to grab him again in case something else should happen.

He can take all the time he needs to remember how to breathe. Once it seems he’s done coughing and retching, Ivan gives his back a little pat. ]

You okay?

[Oh, James won't have to ponder too hard on that one. He knows exactly what all of that was.

After a moment, he finds he can breathe despite the lake's chill making it extra hard. Fingernails bite into the wood of the rowboat, and he finally registers what it is, automatically trying to haul himself out of the water and into the rickety little thing.

Then he's on his knees once he manages it, soaked to the bone and looking as he should: wet and pathetic. He presses the heels of both palms into his eyes, shuddering.]

Fuck!

You said it. What the hell was that?

[ The boat rocks a little as Ivan hauls himself inside as well. He's cold and absolutely miserable, but he's not alone in that. Of the two of them, he's the most steady right now in all aspects, so he keeps an eye out over the surface of the water — what little he can make out, anyway — while James has his breakdown.

He can wait. ]

[Yes, please give him a moment for his breathing to steady. For his heartbeat to stop pounding in his eardrums, for adrenaline to recede and make way for feeling frozen, instead. And not just literally.

Finally he opens his eyes, looking at Ivan. But then he wrenches his gaze away and grips the side of the boat, peering down into the water. The surface of the lake is quiet, peaceful; not a threat in sight.

But for James... that's almost worse. If they're beyond the grasp of an illusion, or whatever the hell this town does to mess with them, then this is actually Toluca Lake. There is actually his old Pontiac down there, sunk to the bottom. And in the backseat, maybe Mary's body still trapped within, bloated and decomposing.

Oh, god.

Why did he think he was ready to come back and do this?]

I-Ivan-

[He doesn't look at him. His gaze is fixed on the surface of the water.]

I need to tell you something.

[ They should get out of here, he thinks. One of them is going to get sick, or worse, and it's not going to be Ivan. He presses his mouth into a thin line, watching James' profile as he gazes into the water with an abject sort of horror.

He has a sinking (ha) feeling he knows where this is going, and he doesn't think they'll be taking this boat anywhere until James says his piece. ]

What is it?

[Would it be so bad if he got pneumonia and died, really--

James swallows thickly. If he were more even-keeled, maybe he would have a more graceful preamble to start out with, but no, he just blurts out-]

My wife, I killed her. Mary was sick and I killed her. I took her body, put her in the backseat, and drove to Silent Hill.

[And then he went through hell.]

Then I... I drove my car into the lake with her body still in it. I almost thought to join her.

[ YES?? Ivan's been trying so hard this whole time not to get James killed. How much would it suck right now if he had to reap him?

But speaking of reaping... Ivan expected this, at some point. Maybe not quite this messy and desperate, and certainly not because the town nearly forced James down a path he'd narrowly avoided.

Ivan's expression softens, and there's a bit of the gentleness he normally reserves for the dead in his tone. ]

I know, James. I know.

[The way that this makes James finally tear his eyes away from the water, looking at Ivan instead. He looks— Well. Reasonably confused, searching his face. His white-knuckled grip still remains on the boat.]

What?

I said I know. What happened to your wife… I was there.

[ He watched it happen. He was there to pick her up when the life left her, and to take her away into whatever awaits afterward.

He was there when she slipped back into James’ car to tell him she’d wait for him. She always has been. ]

What?

[He repeats, uselessly. Color drains from his face, and the confusion makes way for a huge, suffocating wave of ugly, ugly feelings. Shame and guilt and hurt and disbelief.]

You were there?

[He knew this entire time? Fuck. James pushes off the side of the boat to twist his body to face him, making the little vessel sway in the lake. The frustration he experiences is unfair—especially since Ivan just saved him—but there's no rhyme or reason to the feelings that are churning in him right now, other than hot shame bolstering most of them. That Ivan was there during his most wretched moment feels like... It feels like a rotten piece of him that was on display without him even knowing it.]

Why didn't you say something?!

[ He expects the outrage, the sense of betrayal. He expected this would come up at some point.

He didn't expect that they'd be in a dinky little rowboat in the middle of a frigid lake when it happened. The boat rocks a little and Ivan braces for another swim in case things turned ugly. ]

How would that have gone over? You want me to put all the skeletons in your closet on full display when we've only just met?

Yes!

[The boat won't list over, even if it sways in the water, being a sturdy little craft despite its initial appearance. This is fortunate, because James lurches out to grasp at Ivan's shirt collar, pulling him in closer while he leans forward, too, heated and snappish. ~~now kiss~~]

This town kept the truth from me. [Or James deluded himself and Silent Hill pulled the truth from him. But he's not going to be gracious right now.] And I was dragged through hell until I could remember that I killed her. You think I want anything else hidden from me? Something like-

[But James isn't the kind of person who can stay this angry, and his guilt will always put out the fire of righteous indignation. He gasps a stuttering breath, and just like that, all the heat gone out of him. His whole body feels boneless, and he droops. His voice lowers.]

Something like that? That you already knew how awful I was?

Edited 2024-11-14 22:01 (UTC)

[ ~~they gotta level up the social link way more for that~~

For his part, Ivan sits there and takes it. He's not unused to this sort of treatment — not every soul goes quietly into the night, after all. A great number lash out for all sorts of reasons.

The fight goes out of James soon after, anyway. Ivan does feel bad over all this, but he still doesn't believe that telling James he knew about his wife would have been great for first meetings. Better to not bring it up until the man himself said something about it. ]

James... [ A sigh. ] Do you think I'm over here judging you? That's not my place. Besides, I have no room to call you awful when I'm just as bad.

[ If not worse but this isn't a contest. ]

[~~I'M TAPPING MY WATCH~~

The fight's gone completely out of him, yes. His fingers, curled into Ivan's collar still, are barely holding on.]

No, it's not that... I just...

[What, then? He knows what.]

I'm just ashamed of it. Of myself. That's all.

[It's simple as that. He doesn't deserve it, for anyone to think he's the good man that's he's been trying to be, kind and helpful, but it was nice for a time. To be just that.]

[ Ivan reaches up to take one of his arms gently by the wrist, easing his grip away from his collar. ]

I get it. [ Boy does he. There's definitely a reason the two of them have been shoved together on this journey. ] That sort of feeling... it never quite goes away.

[He allows it. No resistance at all from James, as though the well has dried up.

He scoffs despite himself. It's the kind of sound devoid of any real humor, though he can maybe understand, even now, that this is Ivan's way of empathizing.]

Comforting... that this hole in the heart will always be there.

[ Ivan goes ahead and eases both of James' hands away from him, then. Lets him settle into the boat properly before he takes up the oars, looking around for some sign of where they're supposed to go in all this fog.

He does cast a small, incredibly sad smile at James. ]

Do we deserve any less?

[It isn't a relief, he's not sure how long before that feeling seeps in again, but James' mind is more steadied. His guilt lies in the open, ugly thing that it is, and Ivan simply accepts it. No judgment, as he claims it's not his place; and maybe he realizes that James does plenty of that for himself.

His hands fall into his lap as he eases back and sits again in the boat. Ah, it's... cold.]

Probably not.

[A long, ragged exhale, and he finally lifts his gaze up. The fog is very thick, but there's the dark shadow of something in the distance. A building of some sort.]

Guess we keep moving. [Literally and figuratively.]

[ Reapers don't dole out judgement. They simply usher souls to wherever they're meant to go — and if that's somewhere judgement can be passed, that's not Ivan's problem. His job is over at that point.

But more than that, his own sins are right up there with James'. He couldn't judge the man even if he wanted to. They both did horrible things to and for the people they loved, both turned into monsters in their own right, and both left to live with that. ]

Guess so. We should get you out of the cold, anyway.

[ Surely nothing can go wrong by rowing toward the looming shadow in the fog. Let's do that! ]

[Surely not!

For what it's worth, it might be a lengthy distance, but nothing bad seems to be happening as Ivan rows. Just the fog parting for the little bow of the boat, gliding over the surface of the water as they approach.

James hugs himself with his arms.]

I don't know how well we're going to manage that, but maybe we'll find something that can dry me off.

[He glances around to see if maybe there's something that'd qualify in this boat, though the chances are slim. He finds, instead, a little duffel bag tucked close to the seat behind him.]

Hey, what's this?

OPEN POST; [ JAMES SUNDERLAND / SILENT HILL 2 ]

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