TEST DRIVE MEME #7

[futurologists]

test drive 7.0 The world has shifted. Or maybe you’ve shifted? Either way, things have changed, and it’s going to be quite a while before you see them change back again. BASICS You were going about your business as usual until the world went white around you, and when the fog cleared: Oska. You've arrived in a snag of reality between worlds, the full extent of which can be read about here. But in essence, you’ve arrived in a grand, magical, almost empty castle. Outside the castle is an empty, long-abandoned village, partially in ruin. Past that, the world simply fades out into white mist. Your best bet is probably to stick to the castle and its grounds. Suits of armor patrol the quiet hallways, but good luck getting them to speak or answer any questions. There’s absolutely nothing inside them, they move under their own power. They don’t talk, but they also go out of their way not to hurt you. You can even attack one, it will just patiently wait for you to give up and leave. If, however, you ask one for directions, it will dutifully turn and lead the way to wherever you’ve requested. Librarians lurk in the halls of the enormous, well-stocked library, in which you can find nearly any book from nearly any world. The librarians are tall, wide, and very muscular, but they’re also not out to hurt you. Provided you play nice, of course. The usual rules apply: be respectful of the books, keep your voice lowered, and never bring any source of flame into the library. That last one might make the librarians reconsider their nonviolent natures. Outside, there's a greenhouse with every type of flora you can imagine (and more, since they're from all over the universe) — be careful, though, because not all of them are friendly. If you'd like to take a dip, you can check out the lake; just be friendly to the fish. You can catch sight of almost any animal you'd like in the stables, real-world or fantasy. Most of them have been tamed, and won't do any real harm. However, some of them can be a bit testy. Stay away from the unicorns unless you have perfect manners — they hate impoliteness. Current characters in game can assume that the Timeline glitched and sent them temporarily back to Oska. You are welcome to take any threads that happen here as game canon, should both parties arrive in game. Threads done here by prospective players may be used as application samples, and threads done by current players may be used as Bonus AC. PROMPTS ONE ✗ THE KITCHEN The kitchen is always stocked with food, freshly cooked and ready to be eaten — although there was no one to do the cooking, and it might just be you to do the eating. That doesn’t seem to discourage the kitchen in the slightest, which is constantly churning out new, fresh courses. Some of them are more innocent than others today. That tart you just ate? It was harpfruit, native to Cendiares, and has a pesky side effect of making the eater blurt out everything that pops into their head. The completely average-looking salad actually has flakes of Raphian wildflowers, which cause a bit of dancing fever — it isn't contagious, but it does make the sufferer want to dance with everyone they can. The choices and effects are endless and up to you, and don't worry; ALASTAIR is working on getting the kitchen under control as we speak. TWO ✗ THE TRAINING CENTER Maybe you find your way into the Training Center. A lot of work went into setting this room up, and it can construct nearly any scenario that you can imagine. All it takes to activate this room, still and featureless until it comes to life, is the brush of a finger against one of the glowing pads on the wall. The magitek will take it from there. Just envision the setting and any enemies you’d like to train against, and they’ll instantly materialize. Would you rather go sightseeing, without worrying about a fight? No problem! The room is eager to provide you with a sparring partner, but it can be convinced to hold off -- just don’t think of getting into any fights. The Training Center also offers any games you can think of: soccer, basketball, literal freeze tag, etc. Every supply you need will be simulated for you. Additionally, the following scenarios are also preloaded into the system for user convenience, each coming with a small summary of mission objectives: ANWICK: A ruined little village with a massive, dead dragon skewered in the center of it. The goal is to protect her young in a nearby cave. The terrain is treacherous, the wyrmlings are squirmy and unhelpful, and the townsfolk are furious. But for good reason -- it seems dragons have been plaguing them for decades. Even the simulation’s enemies are programmed to say as much, and will do their best to convince you to their side. CHANTES: Chantes, Audentes' first mission, is a typical medieval town cloaked in darkness and surrounded by a winding forest. It comes in two default flavors and difficulty settings. Fairies are the easier enemy; the objective is to collect three jars of unpleasant, glowing sap from their nests without getting your eyes poked out. The fairy goop can also cause disturbances with magical powers, unwanted levitation, and unfortunate cosmetic effects. Demons are the more difficult setting. The task is to clear ominous runes off of various town structures, but when approached, each one releases a red, misty spirit. It will fight tooth and nail to protect its ‘home,’ but is largely invulnerable short of destroying its rune. To prevent this, it may resort to spells, violence, and possessing someone else in the simulation -- consider this a lesson in PvP. (NOTE: You’re also welcome to use anything from the previous events from Chantes as well.) OSKA TRAINING: The goal in this simulation is simple: outlast the timer. It’s exactly the same castle, but after it’s been pelted by a firestorm, architecture ruined to rubble and ash. Navigating the half-destroyed castle is hard enough, and the earthquakes and fireballs raining from the sky will continue until characters survive for a certain amount of time (from an hour to a day) or find a full bushel’s worth of food. And just to rub salt in the wound, all the dirt, grime, and mud in this simulation will last outside of it, so you might need a shower after. NALAWI: An island nation populated by diminutive deer people. The first setting is a mini version of the Gilligan's Island event -- it's less action-packed and more focused on survival. Marooned on the drowned island of Dakal, it's up to you to figure out where to find food and shelter. You might also want to avoid the hungry sea creatures that have made their way up on the island, too. The second setting involves lava monsters erupting out of Nalalona, the largest volcano on the Nalawi islands. Lava imps will do their best to hypnotize recruits into following them back into the volcano, and can be defeated the normal way or non-violently lured into the water. Next comes the fire golems, hulking but fast. Their weak spot is their glowing core, but it will require some cleverness to reach. (NOTE: You're welcome to use any scenarios based on other Nalawi events as well!) ZETA-12: Oh boy, a whole planet to explore! The objective here is simple: protect your delicate goo baby at all costs. Luckily for you, the simulation has seen fit to skip over the frozen wastes! Your first challenge is crossing the deep forest: carnivorous plants try to get a bite out of you, but that isn't the worst part. Eventually, you come to a deep chasm, and have to choose between forcing your wailing, distressed squidge across, or soothing it for several hours until it's willing to go with you. Scenario two is a thick bog inhabited by an aggressive plant monster. It spits a crippling neurotoxin, so anyone attempting to fight it should be wary. Outsmarting or avoiding it would be best for the squidges' well-being, but some people are too hot-blooded for that. What will you do? Finally, there's the desert; it's picturesque, but only if you can ignore the dehydration and punishing heat. There's a cave network for you to seek shelter in, but make no mistake: pretty soon a freak meteor shower causes a cave-in and leaves you trapped inside with an increasingly aggressive squidge. Are you out there dodging meteors or navigating caverns? PERDITION'S REST: This is a mining colony on a planet known only as Q-65, populated solely by an alien race who have come to mine the planet for argecite, a mineral required for their survival. Members of the fundamentalist group called the Deemers have been outed as Taraxa, slug-like brain parasites who belong to ALASTAIR's rival group, Zymandis. The parasites infect unwilling hosts and leave them a husk. The first scenario brings you to Boneyard Junction, an abandoned town at the end of the rail line that is half-sunken into the desert, surrounded by Deemers. The goal is to incapacitate your foes without killing the host body; if a Deemer is killed, a loud buzzer goes off. Use whatever tactics you need to, just keep them alive. The second scenario takes you inside the mine, where several workers are trapped. The objective is to find them and bring them back to the surface, which is made a little more difficult by the large, hungry sand worms slithering in the depths. You'll need to get rid of them to save the miners, but be mindful of the fracking equipment, please! WOODHURST: A sprawling suburb in an alternate Earth circa 1993, Woodhurst is besieged by the Bristol Virus, an infection that is spread by fluid contact. In addition to physical symptoms, its sufferers show heightened irritability and hunger in the later stages of the infection, including cannibalistic tendencies. Because of Woodhurst's "mundane" state, all recruits will be cloaked to appear human so as not to startle the native population. This is considered an advanced training scenario! In the first scenario, you must find clues in the hospital as to the origin of the virus and who is responsible. The hospital workers will bar the way for any civilians merely strolling in, so you'll either need to go unseen or be very good at lying and disguises. The second scenario is set during the final stage of Woodhurst, in which a large portion of the population is infected. Your task here is to ensure the safety of civilians while injecting any infected you encounter with a cure. (For the purposes of this exercise, your cure syringes are automatically set to limitless, but you may adjust the module to make it more challenging.) You will gain points for how many deaths you prevent and infected you cure, and you will lose points for killing infected or allowing civilians to die. THREE ✗ HOT SPRINGS EPISODE One of ALASTAIR's teams extracted an enormous, very hot core from a sentient and murderous AI. What better way to put it to use than to heat up the springs? It's a nice place to get some much needed R&R or just hang out. Some enterprising recruits have built wooden decks and stairs around and through the whole affair. It's a little bit of a hike to get there from the castle, but anyone who has visited can agree: it's worth it. FOUR ✗ THE NETWORK There is some good news, along with all these bizarre and fantastical new sights: you’ve arrived with a new piece of jewelry which, if examined, gives you access to anyone else that might be currently inhabiting Oska. You can speak into the jewelry and be heard, you can get it to project moving images of yourself and others, you can even think a message into it and have it arrive as written word to whoever you’re communicating with. It’s a useful little trinket, provided you can get it to work. FIVE ✗ CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE You are free to use any of these settings, or anything from the Settings Page. You may use any virtually created setting you can think of in the Training Center, even scenes from your character’s world (although they’ll be devoid of people, unless they’re brought in as opponents).

Comments

[sadgay]

[He is not bothered by Asher's near nudity, having witnessed him wandering around Michaela's apartment in just a towel or pair of boxer shorts more than once. But it does add a touch of surrealism to what is already twisted nightmare, a touch of hilarity to what is the worst joke he has ever heard. Connor is not laughing now. He pushes his hands through his hair again and with a long slow sigh lets them fall to his sides. He does not deny that he terrified. It is in his eyes and on his every breath and lodged inside his every word, especially the ones that are sharp like glass. He is as fragile as Asher suspects, and his only defense is the sharpness of sarcasm, but the bulwarks built by sarcasm are all hollow.] Fine. My tits are calm, alright? Just tell me what is going on. You can start by defining "a little while" for me, since I just saw you earlier today. So how come you're talking like a veteran of the psycho crusaders already?

[moneyballer]

[Connor just wants an explanation.

He squints as the other's lips flap open and closed at what seems to be the speed of light. Sure, the sad bromosexual's manner is unpleasant, but the fear in his eyes is all that Asher needs to see to steel himself and do what he's supposed to.]

I got here nine months ago.

[Why is he so bitter, when he recognizes the patterns in Connor's behavior?

It's because he is shitty too.]

And I was alone, bitch.

[Stranded in the middle of a desert and left to defend an alien baby, his first few days on the team had been as nightmarish as you could possibly imagine.]

[sadgay]

[He falls silent for a long stretch as he struggles to comprehend what it must have been like to live for so long as a transplant in an alien land without a familiar face to keep him grounded. If Asher is telling the truth, then his testimony lends some shadow of credibility to the claims that they are dealing with unfathomable tracts of time and space here. He has read Slaughterhouse Five. He starts to see time unfurling before him, laid out just as Vonnegut had conjectured, with every moment happening at once and without cease.] You're right...that sucks balls. Unwashed, hairy balls. [He pinches his eyes shut for a second and shakes his head. He already wants this to stop.] But tell me, how exactly does this suck any less for me? Just because you're stuck here with me doesn't undo the fact that my life is pretty much ruined forever. More than it already was, I mean. [He gives Asher a pointed look, as if this might mean something to him. As if he is on the inside of something that, from where he stands, remains locked up.]

[moneyballer]

[Asher opens his mouth and it almost all comes out. How the constant threat of dying stinks, how uncertainty can drive you mad...

Believe it or not, all the trials and tribulations he has gone through have been worth it. For the first time in his life he has a group of people he can call his own, he is in a relationship where there are no lies between both parties, and he is no longer living in the shadow of a man who earned his living in the worst way possible.

That, and they are finally out of that miserable house.]

It's not gonna be easy, but-

[A loud sigh leaves him, shoulders heaving up and down.]

What you heard back there, it was the truth. Probably.

[A scoff.]

This is a team of fist-fighting knuckleheads. You think if they kidnapped people for real, they'd pick guys like us?

[sadgay]

[His gut crumples up inside of him. Because as much as he wants to ignore the looming reality whose shape slowly gains definition in his mind, what Asher says makes sense: nobody would mistake him for soldier material. So this must be an unhappy accident. His brow folds up and his voice rises thinner than before.] So they've really sent you out to...to other planets, or dimensions, or-- [He falters, losing the words like water draining between fingers.] --wherever it is they send you? You've been doing this crap for nine months? [Whatever tentative calm he had gathered is scattering again. His hands fall to his thighs and he bends forward. His mouth forms the shape of a laugh, but only an empty wheezing noise falls out. He's half sure that he's going to throw up. His stomach, his lungs, all of him feels as though it is being crushed under the weight of what he is expected to believe: he is just some lump of matter that, hapless and helpless, has been pulled into a blackhole.] Please tell me I'm just losing my mind. That I can maybe deal with.

[moneyballer]

Actually, yeah.

I know, it sounds totes cray cray. Anyway-

[He goes through the information quickly, as if debriefing Connor for one of the many cases they've worked on in the past.]

Turns out, ALASTAIR happens to be a rebel branch of some other time-jumpy band of superpowered psychos, which is why the organization of it all is so messed up-

[Asher watches Connor curl up and cover his face, frowning slightly.]

Whoa. Are you gonna hurl?

[he should be a Good Person and not b grossed out by that but like... his feet are totally bare and he does not want vomit stickin btwn his toes lol]

[sadgay]

[He shakes his head, both for Asher's question and for how screwed up everything is right now.] I'm peachy. [His voice possesses the quality of wood bleached by the sun, made weak beneath its radiant glare day in and day out. He just wants everything to stop for a minute, or an hour, so he does not have to think - because for him, thinking means worrying, and worrying means sinking lower before he can ever bob back to the surface.] I just need to sit down...my legs are killing me. Trying to run away from creepy enchanted castles will do that to you. [Unceremoniously he lowers himself back down to the dirt and moss. Despite the lows they have stumbled through together, he finds it hard to look at Asher while he feels so small, so vulnerable. He busies his hand with tearing apart the curled fronds of a nearby fern.]

[moneyballer]

[They may not be close at the point he's from, but they will be, won't they? That's what Oliver had said. And despite all the abuse he had suffered in the Keating house, both at the hands of their professor and the others, especially Connor...

Asher does what he thinks any good friend should do.

Without saying anything, he settles down next to Connor, taking care not to let any of the Millstone family jewels peek out. Arms that are broader than they used to be wrap around knees that are covered by a now somewhat dirty towel.]

I'm so sorry.

[sadgay]

[He breathes out a quiet sigh that even in the peace of the surrounding forest gets swallowed up.] So am I. [He is silent or a long while, just sitting there with his chin tipped down and his fingers fidgeting with the fern. Just breathing and trying to sort out his head. Or trying to climb out of his head altogether. Asher is not the worst company he could ask for right now. He possesses the familiarity that Connor craves, and despite how annoying he can sometimes be, he is a surprisingly sturdy presence. Finally, he scrapes together a quiet question.] How have you been doing this for all this time?

[moneyballer]

[He too feels that this is familiar.

It's not as though Asher has ever seen Connor in this state before, but he is Connor Walsh, the man. The guy that every dude who is into dudes seems to want; someone handsome, smart, and ambitious.

Someone Asher wishes he was.

The boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth sighs, noting how sober the atmosphere is, oddly welcoming it. He can't say they've ever been this honest with each other, so the lack of pretense between them is a breath of fresh air.

Wearily, he lets it out:]

I screwed up a whole lot.

[sadgay]

[Like a hammer falling through his disordered thoughts, it strikes him suddenly that in all the time he has known Asher, even in the time they have shared a living space, he cannot recall ever sitting beside him and sustaining a real conversation. The kind in which you lay yourself bare, the kind that he has spent most of his life avoiding.] Well, I'll nail that part at least. [Yet he is still scoffing and clinging to the sarcasm he wears so well. He does finally look at Asher again. Now that he has come down from the heights of his panic, Connor is beginning to sense that the man beside him, for all his familiarity, is not the same man he had seen in class just earlier today. Around him is drawn a mantle of maturity that Connor does not quite recognize. New too are the harder muscles lending an edge to what Connor himself had once disparagingly described as meatloaf. It frightens him, to wonder what Asher must have done in order to survive out here for so long.]

[moneyballer]

Oh, c'mon bro!

[In many ways, speaking to Connor, a classmate from home, is more foreign to him now than greeting the talking skeleton who lives down the hall.

Sure, the soft lines have been replaced by harder edges, but if there's anything that's remained the same, it is Asher's softness and his belief that things will turn out find in the end, that is, if they stick together.]

You may screw a lotta dudes, but-

[The smile he offers is a kind one, reassuring.

Familiar.]

You're a baller, man! A beast! In the sheets and in the classroom.

You've got more than what it takes to be a part of this team. Trust me.

[sadgay]

[He should at least try to take comfort in Asher's words, in his painfully genuine smile, but it all seems so insignificant next to the expectations looming over him. For years he had fought to feel good about who he is, but all that toil has begun to unravel, beginning from the moment he saw Sam's brains splatter across the floor, and unwinding more and more all the time, leaving him struggling to remember how to feel sure of himself anymore.] Yeah, I'm sure what I learned in Litigation last semester will come in handy while we're trying to save the universe. But hey, maybe I can bone the bad guys to death-- Like, literally screw their brains out. Sure hope they're hot. [Where Asher's tone is warm, Connor's is jagged like a broken bottle, meant to hurt those around him but perhaps himself most of all. His fingers curl around the fern he had been picking at before, and he rips it out of the earth to toss it carelessly over his shoulder.] I don't even wanna be a part of this stupid team, Asher.

[moneyballer]

[Eh, fair enough. Connor hadn't even wanted to be a part of a team when it had only consisted of five people. He's a lone wolf, always looking out for himself.

In that respect, they couldn't be more different.

From the moment he took the first step into that classroom, Asher had wanted nothing more than to belong.]

Well, look on the bright side.

At least here-

[He nudges Connor with an elbow.]

You don't have to be Annalise's bitch.

[ALASTAIR is far more forgiving.]

Hell, you can be your own bitch-

[doN'T STICK UR TONGUE OUT AND RATTLE HIS SHOULDERS LIKE THAT, HE's ALRE ADY SCARED]

Bitch.

[sadgay]

[Five seconds of being rattled around like a ragdoll is more than enough for him, and then he'll attempt to shove Asher's hands away.]

Hey, knock it off already! I get it, I get it...!

[Yet even as he pushes Asher away, his classmate's words are sinking in like rain working its way through starved, scarred earth. Annalise is not here. He does not have to play her games or follow her twisted rules anymore. He is finally free of that house, which to him was little better than the prison sentence he has tried so desperately to avoid all this time. He can finally be free, but he does not feel free. He may have left the house, but the house has not left him. The lies have not left him, the lies that hold him prisoner in his own head.

And what does any of it matter, if he's just going to bite the dust out in space anyway?

He says none of this. All of it only claws up near the surface, somewhere underneath the irked look he gives Asher, but locked inside. Instead, he falls back on something like humor, which is often safer. A quirked eyebrow and a nod to Asher's bicep.]

Also, since when are you ripped? You're less meatloaf and more...steak now. I'll give you that.

[moneyballer]

Whoa, ex-'scuse you.

[He does let off, easing back a little, grinning wider now. There's still bite to Connor's words, though his eyes look a little less hopeless than before.]

I was always stacked. 'Tch.

[While it's true, Asher has always been strong enough to do some damage, he is capable of breaking bones now.

That is something Connor does not need to know.

Instinctively, he clutches his legs a little harder, pulling them closer to his chest.]

I'm just a little more swole!

[Try a lot more swole.

Every contour of his body appears more defined. That's what happens when you spend so much time taking care of it.]

that fucking icon

[sadgay]

[His shoulders slump. His hair is limp with his own sweat. His shirt is half untucked and rumpled, and his pants are streaked with dirt. His feet ache and his legs feel wooden. He does not look forward to scraping himself up from the ground. By every measurement, he is a goddamn mess at this moment. Yet as exhausted as he is, he musters a little puff of a laugh for Asher's antics.] If you looked like that before, I would remember - trust me. My killer memory comes in handy for more than just acing exams. Guys I slept with two years ago, five years ago, ten years ago - the cream of the crop, I can still remember what their junk looks like. [And maybe he adds this to make Asher uncomfortable, to maintain a little distance.]

i can't believe i even wrote this tag

[moneyballer]

Wait, so you're tellin' me-

[His face is bereft of any disgust whatsoever. If anything, it looks like he's more than just mildly impressed.]

That you've got some crazy database for every dong you've ever dinged all up in your noggy-nogs?

[asher d o n ' t]

Whoa.

What are you doin' studying your ass off at Middleton, man?

You should be working for the FBI.

they need jesus...we need jesus

[sadgay]

[For a moment, there is some strange semblance of normalcy. Asher says something ridiculous; Connor serves him a withering look, his brow and scowl twisting judgmentally. In a way, it anchors him, this small scrap of his now former life.]

Aaaaaand now you made it weird. Thanks for that.

[Connor??? You're the one who brought dudes' dicks into this conversation???]

FBI wouldn't want me anyway. [His voice lowers conspiratorially, and he leans in toward Asher.] --Or maybe they would: plenty of marketable field experience, hm?

[Just the usual resume points, like murder cover up and obstruction of justice. You know. His fingers busy themselves in the ferns again, idle work for a mind that has trouble keeping still.]

[moneyballer]

[Something in the air shifts, from comfortable to unfamiliar.

Asher looks at Connor in the way one often does after seeing a ghost. It is clear that he has no idea what the other is referring to. Is the other law student subtly referencing the work they do, that so often is morally questionable?

Oh, how ignorance is bliss.]

Huh?

[An odd tingle travels down his spine, though he chocks it up to the crisp evening air and his sparsely clothed state.]

What're you talkin' about?

You mean like... With Annalise?

[sadgay]

[And he in turn looks at Asher is if waiting for the crack in his act. When no such crack makes itself apparent, a sharp laugh pops on his lips. His countenance is empty of humor: what perches there instead is unnameable, but it is kindred to consternation. It does not yet strike him that even the best fakers cannot go pale on command. This mess is supposed to be both of theirs, a burden none of them can disinherit, a crucible that cannot be shirked. What he would not trade for the anesthesia of ignorance...] Wow, you're good-- [He shakes his head.] That's incredible, how good you are at playing dumb. [A light punch aimed at his bare shoulder. A little too forceful.] Come on, don't tell me you've already forgotten your bestie Sinclair? Or good ol' Sam? So much for resting in peace. Or was it in pieces? [L O L.]

[moneyballer]

[Therein lies the killing joke.

In this timeline, Asher Millstone has yet to become a stone cold killer.

Emily Sinclair and himself have never been formally introduced, he only knows her as someone who works for the DA's office, a colleague who has brushed elbows with his father on maybe more than one occasion. Everything, from his face to his eyes and the way his body tenses up, is proof that he is not acting.]

What the hell are you goin' on about?

[Slowly, but surely, he realizes.

The darkness has obscured it, and at first he had attributed the slight differences to Connor's stress and general state of disarray, but his hair is different now, is it not? Longer. The outfit is sloppy, as if he's stopped caring about his appearance, which seems strange.

They have not been pulled from the same day.]

Are you okay?

[He only comes to this conclusion because experience has taught him as much. Oliver knows him from the second year of law school.]

Sam just went missing, dude.

Annalise just told us that this-

[Shit.

That was months ago.]

Morning.

[sadgay]

[He looks as though he has just been punched in the gut, and inside of it churns whatever remains of his last meal. This morning, Asher says, and he remembers it as the first day of his new, distinctly un-improved life. When he had stepped out of Oliver's shower, his skin scrubbed clean of the night before, the first words out of his mouth were a dirty lie. Since then, he has not gone back, however much he cranes his neck to look over his shoulder at the distance he wishes he could undo. But Asher remembers only seeing his car in Annalise's driveway, pounding on the door without knowing what nightmare had unfolded inside. He knows nothing, and Connor hates him for it. Anger beats out confusion to seize him first, and violently, lighting words on his tongue like an arsonist setting a house ablaze. You don't have the right. We were all a part of this. He takes a breath and his lips draw back, but this is not what comes out.] What the hell? You seriously don't have any idea... [He wraps a hand around his mouth. Exhales. His palm tastes of sweat and earth. Slowly he drags it down to the point of his chin, and it falls to his lap.] Shit. [He steals a look at Asher, the accusatory look of someone betrayed. Looking for the flash of the next dagger. Then his eyes are in the treetops. In the rotting leaves that carpet the forest floor.] December 2014, huh... [In his spiraling thoughts he sees again the peaks and valleys of time that Vonnegut had laid out. All of it is there, every year, every minute, never destroyed and never gone. Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. Yeah, right. He pushes his hands over his thighs as he reaches for the words that don't make him sound like a total basket case.] That...was a while ago.

cw: suicide mention

[moneyballer]

[Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

But everything hurt, or so he thought. If things continue to go the way they are, Asher will quit working for Annalise Keating, never to step foot in that house again. Sinclair would no longer be able to use him as her trapped pet rat and reluctant informant, and he will often wonder what could have been.

This changes things, however.

Unbeknownst to him, the claws of never-ending misery begin to dig themselves into his back.]

So, Sam Keating...

[Resting in pieces.]

What happened to him?

[He swallows hard, cheeks even paler than before.]

Is he really dead?

[The saddest thing of all is that it does not occur to him, not even once, that Sam's blood stained the carpet as he banged on Annalise's door, certain that the others were hiding from him while Connor's stupid car lay parked in the driveway.

His mind goes in other directions. It must have been something sudden and unfortunate, a car accident, a hit and run, a suicide-]

How long has it been since then?

[sadgay]

[What happened to him? He remembers the blood crawling over the rug, the crater in Sam's head, the bile rising in his own throat. Sam's wide glassy eyes, seeing nothing but watching all. The weight of a dead man in his hands. The weight of the shovel, swinging down to cleave flesh and crack bone, again and again, splitting him smaller and smaller but never undoing what they had done.

Because of him, Sam Keating ended up in a landfill in five separate garbage bags.

His eyes duck away and his mouth hangs open on the precipice of words. They come reluctantly.]

Nine months ago now.

[The time that Asher had spent away from Philly, honing himself into the man that now sits beside him, Connor had spent sinking lower into a labyrinthine nightmare.]

The police never...they never found out what exactly happened.

[It is not a lie. None of their asses are in jail. The irony is that even a billion light years away from that house, he continues to follow the advice of the woman whom he blames for ruining his life: answer the question but concede only the bare minimum, the skeleton, because when you elaborate you incriminate yourself.

He swallows. His heart clamors in its cage. His hand slides over the back of his neck, his mussed hair. He tries to remember what he had said only a moment ago. What clues he had dropped.]

But yeah...he's dead. Like, super dead.

[And the news itself floats there like a bloated corpse in water.]