fh_dungeon | Twisting Paths of the Dungeon, Somewhere, Thursday

Twisting Paths of the Dungeon, Somewhere, Thursday

The pathways of the dungeon had changed overnight. Anyone who had stayed in a room beyond their welcome had found themselves booted out back onto the hallways that belonged to their camp and feeling pressed down by the sudden increase in gravity. The doors of yesterday had closed. Other doors had now opened.

And other routes.

[ pathways | gremlins | space battles | room of the past | flooded room | free space | strange vault | ooc NOTE: room doors not belonging to your camp will lock when you enter. so please designate whether you're from camp 1 or the joint camp 2/ camp 3 ]

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"Different camps," Natalie replied, a little less strained, although there was a lot of willpower being put to that. Because she was still watching. A car window was rolled down, a woman called out for the boy – Time to go, sweetheart! – who pulled back a little and glanced over, clearly hesitating.

But Natalie knew he'd still go in a moment, because that's how this went.

"There's at least two. Maybe three if the girl with purple hair isn't in yours."

"Can't say that she is."

The part of Peter's brain that always caught whatever made people feel worst about themselves was taking note of this, the imagery, and the reaction she had to it. "So," he added, "I take it this isn't unfamiliar."

Natalie didn't answer. Why bother? He'd realized this was related to her, so why confirm that? And she wasn't about to explain what he was currently seeing, so. What she had left was unhelpful snapping. So she said nothing.

Come on, Todd, honey! It's time. Say goodbye.

They hugged again, and then the boy pulled away for good. Starting towards the car, but walking backwards. Waving. And the girl – had she really been that small? that redfaced from crying? – was waving back at him. Looking like her world was ending (things were so dramatic when you were eleven) but waving because at least she could give him a good goodbye.

"We should get out of here, since it doesn't look like there's anything to scrounge," Peter said conversationally. He didn't really have time for eleven-year-old drama ~~that wasn't his own drama at eleven~~ and while it was a good thing to remember in case he ever needed to play Natalie for anything...

Seriously, why was she so into this?

Because this was the end of stage one in the life of Natalie Adams. A loss of innocence, what could best be described as her first love, and a good chunk of her heart, all in one fell swoop.

So please excuse her if she sounded more than a little strained as she said, "Shut up, Peter."

Still without looking at him. Because she'd watched it unfold this far, so why not watch Todd get in the car, and watch herself still waving as the car started down the street?

"You realize you're making it more and more tempting to set this thing on fire."

"And you wonder why I don't trust you."

"And you wonder why I'm hostile and untrustworthy."

"Doesn't it make you just the tiniest bit uncomfortable that I have to wait until I'm sure you're not going to be home before I can allow myself to miss my little boy?"

It took Peter some time to realize that didn't come from the inside of his own head, but the outside - in fact, by the time he did, the voices of himself and his mother had already faded back into the scenery of Natalie's memory.

He pulled a face. "Oh, nice."

Yeah, that was not one of Natalie's, and it was jarring, almost. Making her frown as the last of her own memory began to fade away. Her father coming out once the Ingrams were gone, and her running to him. Come on inside, Nat, I'll get you some ice cream.

And then they were gone, Montreal suburbia dissolving away.

They really should've been getting out of here.

"We really need to be getting out of here," Peter said, agreeing with her narrative.

Hers was probably not the only suburbia-long-past waiting in the wings, and Peter had no interest in finding out what this room could cough up about him.

"Yes."

There was a shudder to her voice there. Just in case it wasn't obvious that had gotten to her. How brilliant was it to put her in a week-long situation where she really needed a hug (which she couldn't allow anyone to give her, because she'd break and wasn't sure she'd be able to put herself back together again), and then show her the worst hug of her life?

"We do."

So she turned to look for the door.

"Peter?" His mother's voice again, but younger this time. Happier. "You're going to need to put your brother down eventually."

"No." And there he was, four years old, clinging to his baby brother like a lifeline.

"Oh, come on."

Well, this was probably not going to be great. Fascinating, sure, because what glimpse into Peter's mind wasn't, but not great. And not helpful.

Natalie rubbed her eye and shook her head. "Great."

Peter released an annoyed sigh. "Let's just keep walking and not pay this any attention," he said.

Past-Peter curled up with his little brother in his arms, taking his bottle and feeding it to him. Little Ender didn't look completely convinced about his position, but... bottle.

Little Peter looked intent but happy. Enamored, even.

"Easier said than done."

But she was trying, anyway. Just keep walking.

She just wasn't sure the room was going to let them go without them hearing it out, so to speak.

Suddenly, baby Ender's body language shifted. He lit up, making little noises, arms outstretched... to little Valentine, a little over two years old, waddling happily towards him. Peter had been completely forgotten.

Actual Peter rubbed at his face and said, "Really? We're doing this?"

"This whole dungeon seems designed to prey on both our bodies and our minds." When in doubt, drawl. "So yes."

But oh, Peter. If this equivalent to Todd, it explained a lot. Not that she'd say anything to that effect out loud.

Theresa Wiggin swept up and took the baby with her, Valentine following on her heels. They left Peter sitting there, the heartbreak on his face slowly morphing into anger.

So yes. That was Peter's Todd.

"Are we done?" he called up to the ceiling impatiently, partly to hide the fact that had rattled him.

Natalie reached for his shoulder. "Come on, Peter." She'd said that before, but whatever. "Let's just... push through."

Because she thought she could hear something else, and while she hoped that was just paranoia, it didn't lessen her urge to get the hell out of here.

Peter's head shot towards the source of the sound - and the touch. His siblings were never too fond of people touching them with permission, and Peter wasn't much different, especially in this state.

He tugged his shoulder loose and took a few steps forward. "I think I came from over there," he said. "Think I see something there now."

Natalie pulled her hand back without much in the way of a reaction, though she did make note of that for further reference. Getting out was the goal, and she just breezed forward.

But of course she didn't get to the door. Just a hotel room.

"So, tell me that. Tell me that's what this is. Tell me you spent all last weekend and all this weekend with me, pretending you were happy and that you wanted to be with me and that things were working out knowing that you were gonna end this. Tell me that this is the end."

So that was Sam, standing by the bed, staring down at the Natalie who was sitting on said bed, looking down at her lap. About ready to cave in.

And the Natalie who'd just walked into this situation swore under her breath and tried to turn away.

Edited 2013-04-11 17:25 (UTC)

"Damn," Peter said, stepping forward until he stood next to her. "This place is sadistic, isn't it?" Torturing her with break-ups, torturing him with the boredom of those break-ups...

Hey now, this one also happened to be the single most humiliating moment in Natalie's life! That had to count for something! Because Natalie-on-the-bed buried her face in her hands, and started to sob. Quite literally shaking and crying, yes.

So now Peter had seen the two times in her life that she'd been a crying mess to that ridiculous a degree. That was just grand. Natalie-on-her-feet refused to watch, trying to find an exit, muttering to herself to cover the sound her crying past self. "Come on, come on..." But no, it looked like they were stuck here until the room deemed things done.

And Sam just looked at the poor crying girl. He looked pained, but at least he wasn't making a fool of himself. "Okay. I get it. You wanna end things. I really wish you wouldn't have strung me along and made me think things were fine before dropping it all on me now but whatever, it's cool."

"I think they call that passive-aggressive," Peter commented.

He was a dangerous person to leave this kind of information with, definitely. But these days, only if it benefited him on a larger scale, and it was unlikely that it would.

"Mm hmm, he does that," Natalie commented, trying for a neutral, flat tone, and not quite hitting it. "But it's a human thing to do and he was hurt. You do it too, and so do I."

She was really just talking to drown out everything said in the memory. It worked fine enough for Sam adding that he was going home and she could have the room until she felt like leaving. But not the moment where the other Natalie pulled her shaking hands from her tear-streaked face, and stammered out, "I –– I wasn't stringing you along."

Natalie flinched at the sound of it.

Edited 2013-04-11 17:54 (UTC)

Peter looked vaguely interested for at least a moment.

"I wonder why you so often make this the centerpoint of your life."

Because she was damaged and a romantic and a realist and a bunch of other things that didn't mesh well with each other.

"I don't."

""Sure, whatever. Because taking advantage of me being here the past two days, sleeping with me and cuddling with me before doing this isn't stringing me along."

Sam began to pack, shoving things into his bag, and Natalie found that it didn't really matter that she wasn't watching because she still knew everything that happened. This was her memory, after all.

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