saveyourbrain | "Five Years Later..."

"Five Years Later..."

A Good/Bad Ending Meme

Happy First Anniversary, Save the Earth.

Let us celebrate by speculating on where our characters might be in another few anniversaries - pick one or both of the below and do a little babble/blurb - and from there, o' course, freely springboard off of others... or play/thread in the hypothetical scenarios, if you'd like.

Good Ending
Congratulations, Numbers Club - you've fended off the supposed invasion, after a global chase and monster attack and pseudo-political fight one after the other! With the last of the Enemy fleeing and your lot as Earth's heroes, you've got no need to hide yourself any longer - and look how much you've grown in all that time! What have you been up to - and now that you've saved the world, what will you do next?

Bad Ending
...Or you've failed to do any such thing. The alien invasion has succeeded and swarmed over the world. They've overtaken humanity, and the Noble Numbered might be desperately putting up a last-stand defense, hiding their heads, giving in, or on the edge after a string of failures - on a case by case basis. Everyone is bound to react to the apocalypse - and failure to Save the Earth - in different ways.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It's only her extended isolation that keeps her from screaming out loud - she's not used to using her voice so much these days, since there's generally nobody around to hear it. Her metal hand rises towards her flesh arm to brush off whatever it is, and as she glances backwards she catches a glimpse that gives her her first echo in years.

The memory of the horned shadowy figures comes with the same dread that she - Vriska - felt, and so Octavia quickly averts her eyes. She tries tugging her arm loose, frightened sobs already welling up inside her. The ones haunting Vriska were the ones she'd fed to Spidermom, so it only makes sense that the same thing would be happening to her now... ]

I'm sorry!

[ She's every bit as terrified as the scared little troll girl who'd killed a friend to make the haunting stop, and it's obvious by the tone of her voice. ]

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!

[ Her arm slips through his fingers, his grasp on this time and place fading once again. He stumbles back, making his first sound in God knows how long -- a grunt comprised of one, two, three voices, but one, maybe familiar voice dominates the trio.

No. No. He's not leaving her like this.

He digs in once more, as hard as he can, concentrating on the here and now as he stands beside his friend and wraps his spectral arms around her. It's still cold and probably unsettling, but it's the best he can do. ]

[ UNSETTLING IS RIGHT. The ghost hug is distressing enough (they're dragging her to the afterlife with them oh god she's going to be a ghost like Vriska was she doesn't want to die), but she doesn't try to struggle out of it. Largely because as she tenses up, the familiarity of the voice scratches at the edges of her memory.

It's been a long-ass time, yes. But it was an important voice when it was around. Not something that gets forgotten so easily. ]

W- Wa--

[ She's shaking too hard to speak freely. She glances down at the arms circling her, still too scared to look directly at them. Because, you know. She could be wrong. ]

[ Oh, he heard that. She recognizes him, he's sure of it. On some level, at least. The shroud around him is thick and obfuscates most of his features, but even though it's pitch black now, that hairstyle is pretty unmistakable. Just in case she had any lingering doubts.

The ghost keeps one arm around Octavia. She is his anchor, and if he lets go he knows he'll drift away. There's no guarantee he'll ever see her again, and even if he does, he doubt he'll be this lucid. He didn't get to say goodbye when it happened, and odds are this is the only chance he'll ever get.

His free hand makes its way down to her flesh hand as he gives it the most reassuring squeeze he can muster. He's not able to make words, not anymore, but he still has ways of communicating. ]

[ Hahahahah LETTING GO. Like that's an option. Octavia squeezes Walter's hand right back, keeping hold of it even after she loosens her grip. With both hands. Just in case. She's lost far too much for her to be able to let go just yet. ]

I'm sorry.

[ Less panicked and more distraught this time. Because she is sorry - that he died, that she couldn't stop it, that she couldn't even make his death mean anything because they fucking lost. Not to mention how sorry she is about what she's become, that he has to see her like this. ]

[ He shakes his head rather furiously at that. It's not her fault. The only ones who hold the blame are the ones that killed him, and although he wasn't there for the aftermath, one can only assume they paid some sort of price already.

He sinks down and, while still holding Tavia's hand, guides it towards a shard of glass before having her pick it up. He then helps her write in the dirt. The letters are barely legible, but spell 'glad i met you'

He starts scrawling a 'b' underneath as daylight begins to break. It freezes him in place for a few seconds and he can feel it burning at his back. No amount of anchoring is going to prevent his disappearance this time. Time to focus. An 'e' is shakily being written next to the 'b'. 'Be'...? ]

[ GOOD GOD THERE IS SOME SERIOUS SNOTTING GOING ON HERE. That and the gross blue tears leaking from under her glasses mean she doesn't realise what made him stop at first - when she does realise, her expression flicks from grief to confusion to absolute fucking fury within seconds. ]

No no no no NO!

[ This is not fair and she refuses to let it happen. Octavia tries to manoeuvre herself in a way that casts a shadow over Walter (without letting go) in the hopes that will work to give him more time. Her shitty pirate coat gets clumsily shrugged off and held up as a kind of shield with her free hand as she swallows back angry tears - she's the Thief of fucking Light, so if anyone can keep him safe for longer it's her. Right? ]

Edited 2014-04-02 23:43 (UTC)

[ It buys him a minute or two, at least, and he's able to start writing again. Or he would be, if his fingers wouldn't stop slipping through Octavia/the glass. He tries writing directly into the ground, finger stabbing through the earth several times, but with enough effort, he manages a jittery 'good' next to the 'be'.

His lucidity is rapidly fading, and for one moment before the complete darkness strikes his mind is back before everything went to hell. In a haze, he doodles a sideways smiley face next to the message he's written. He slumps onto Octavia's shoulder, and the wisps surrounding him have dissipated enough to reveal some of his face. If you squint, anyway. He smiles deliriously before the sun's rays burn through the protection she's thrown up.

Walter Price fades away yet again, a puff of black smoke in the wind. ]

"Five Years Later..."

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