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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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.

"Oh, don't lie to me, I'm better at it than you are," Peter said. He was still watching. "You've broken up how many times? And you're still surfing on the edges of this black hole because-- what? You think it's the only thing you've got? Because sometimes it feels good? You can get the same experience out of a serotonin shot in your butt."

He watched Sam shove those things into his pack. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're better than this."

He wasn't even really talking about Sam as a person or anything. He'd seen Todd just now and that was the same thing.

"I want to love and be loved, Peter," Natalie said, seriously considering clamping her hands over her ears, now. "I don't think that should make me better or worse than anything."

"I wasn't trying," Natalie-on-the-bed said, pausing in the middle for a breath, "to break up with you."

"But you just did!" Sam snapped "You just did, Natalie. Because I asked you to tell me you wanted to end it and you didn't deny it. You are speaking in past tense. You 'gave', you 'wanted', you've 'tried.' It's past tense. I'm not stupid. And you haven't said anything else one way or the other!"

"It's not in your priorities, and trust me, I wish it wasn't in mine, either."

"I just wanted to talk to you!" The sobbing was starting up harsher again. "I was just trying to talk because I –– I couldn't handle it on my own anymore. And I told you because I thought you deserved to know."

"Don't pretend to know what my priorities are," Peter said. "I want to be loved, too. But I think my self-respect is more important. Besides, this doesn't look like love, and the reason you can't look is because you know it. This is humiliation. You're being humiliated. And you go back for more every time."

"I deserved to know weeks ago."

"It's a two-way street, Peter," Natalie said. Staring at the wall because it was the least hurtful thing here. Sarcasm would work, right? "Two to tango, right?"

"Weeks. Before it got this bad. Before you started using words like doubt and distance and all that. But you didn't tell me until now. And even then, I made suggestions. I wanted to help. I wanted to bend over backwards and do even more to see you."

"He's not even wrong, you know. He's not lying."

"But it wasn't enough for you, Natalie. You do remember telling me that, right? That anything I basically said doesn't matter because I wouldn't be here permanently."

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