Heather Mason (
foolishwren) wrote in
route_10652011-08-31 11:55 pm
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Between the kindness of strangers and the rumble of the road
Who: Aoko Nakamori, Crow Hogan, Harry Mason, Heather Mason, Henry Townshend, Kaito Kuroba
Where: Route 38
When: Nighttime, August 31
Summary: Campfires are interesting places. Even more interesting when the people sitting at one are a detective's daughter, a guy who plays card games on motorcycles, an internationally-wanted jewel thief, an agoraphobic photographer, a ... Heather, and a mild-mannered novelist who's probably the only mature adult there.
But you can't have a campfire without stories, and with such a crowd as odd as this one, there's sure to be a few worth telling...
Rating: PG for spooky stories
Log:
The dog days of summer are a special time of year, regardless of whether or not you're young enough to still associate them with the last days of freedom before fall and academia set back in. And while Johto's pace of life seemed to stay the same year-round regardless of season, there was still a little something in the air on that last night of August.
The sun had long since sunk below the treeline, leaving in its wake a warm night that still held the barest hint of the autumn ahead.
But the fire chased that little ghost of a chill away nicely, small though it was from where it flickered in the center of the little hollow they'd set up camp in, and what the fire didn't do, the sleeping bags would. It was a small site, hardly more than a pine-needle-and-root-floored clearing walled in by thick trunks.
In fact, the fire's flickering light hardly even extends through the gaps between the trees.
... Which is why Heather's got a staticky, softly-glowing Pichu held in the palm of her hand like some kind of squishy, living lantern as she squeezes her way back into the fire's light, stepping carefully over friend, Pokemon alike before dumping a pile of sticks next to the fire.
"Boom. That's enough for the rest of the night, I think. Outta the way, Cooj."
Shoveling the fluffy canine monstrosity that had (along with a few puffy bags of marshmallows) been taking up most of her sleeping bag aside, Heather flopped down with a hearty huff, still holding her father's Pichu and looking around at the rest of the travel party with a wide grin.
"SO! We still gonna do the stories?"
Where: Route 38
When: Nighttime, August 31
Summary: Campfires are interesting places. Even more interesting when the people sitting at one are a detective's daughter, a guy who plays card games on motorcycles, an internationally-wanted jewel thief, an agoraphobic photographer, a ... Heather, and a mild-mannered novelist who's probably the only mature adult there.
But you can't have a campfire without stories, and with such a crowd as odd as this one, there's sure to be a few worth telling...
Rating: PG for spooky stories
Log:
The dog days of summer are a special time of year, regardless of whether or not you're young enough to still associate them with the last days of freedom before fall and academia set back in. And while Johto's pace of life seemed to stay the same year-round regardless of season, there was still a little something in the air on that last night of August.
The sun had long since sunk below the treeline, leaving in its wake a warm night that still held the barest hint of the autumn ahead.
But the fire chased that little ghost of a chill away nicely, small though it was from where it flickered in the center of the little hollow they'd set up camp in, and what the fire didn't do, the sleeping bags would. It was a small site, hardly more than a pine-needle-and-root-floored clearing walled in by thick trunks.
In fact, the fire's flickering light hardly even extends through the gaps between the trees.
... Which is why Heather's got a staticky, softly-glowing Pichu held in the palm of her hand like some kind of squishy, living lantern as she squeezes her way back into the fire's light, stepping carefully over friend, Pokemon alike before dumping a pile of sticks next to the fire.
"Boom. That's enough for the rest of the night, I think. Outta the way, Cooj."
Shoveling the fluffy canine monstrosity that had (along with a few puffy bags of marshmallows) been taking up most of her sleeping bag aside, Heather flopped down with a hearty huff, still holding her father's Pichu and looking around at the rest of the travel party with a wide grin.
"SO! We still gonna do the stories?"
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[Burger digs it though. Attentioooons <3]
I'm not a very good story-teller. Sorry.
I took a lot of photography classes in collage and the building we were in wasn't very well-kept on one side. That was the side the dark room was in. Whenever we had to develop something it was like...walking into another building completely. I think most of us decided it was haunted.
[Henry goes quiet and tries to gather up more words. He didn't have very many.]
One night, I had to stay late because some of my film got destroyed and reshoot some stuff. I was walking towards the dark room and heard noises coming out of it--like...moans. It sounded like someone was in pain. It had to be the ghosts, right?
[Henry looks thoughtful. He wondered what it would have been like if that building had ended up being haunted instead of his apartment. Nobody would even notice. That place was so creepy.]
It was just a couple of people having sex though. I couldn't get my stuff developed that night. I got a bad grade.
[ 8( Henry lets his anticlimax sink in for a while.]
This one time a serial killer thought my house was his mom so he tried to murder me. That was weird.
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Haha, gross.
Who does it in a darkroom, seriously.
[She already knows the serial-killer story, so she'll let him get on with it for the others.]
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[ 8I ]
If I had a marshmallow for every time I've walked in on us art kids doing stuff like that I'd have...a lot of marshmallows.
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Still, though. I mean, come on.
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[He looks thoughtful and wrinkles his nose a little.]
It sure wasn't the best smelling room though.
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[Okay so Heather's had drunken high-school makeout sessions in unpleasant places before, but still. Ew.]
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Maybe it enhanced the experience.
[Henry looks thoughtful. He may or may not have lit up in there a time or two. His pictures looked awesome.]
Ha ha somebody got caught developing naked pictures once. They would have shrugged it off as photography majors being...photography majors but it turns out they weren't even in the class.
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[Heather didn't even bother applying for colleges after she graduated... Douglas had tried to encourage her, but no matter how many nights she spent sitting in his cluttered apartment with stacks of forms in front of her, she almost always wound up giving up after the first few blanks had been filled.]
[Now that she's talking to someone who actually WENT, the shenanigans make her curious.]
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I don't remember. I just remember being in the room and not recognizing the people in the photos.
[Henry's blank-face shifts enough to suggest that they hadn't been very pleasant naked photos.]
Now that I think back on it...parts of that building reminded me of...Y'know. Weird.
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[Not everybody in the little traveling group knows about Silent Hill... and Heather's not ENTIRELY sure she wants that can of worms cracked open. Kaito knows, but still.]
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[HOW SPECIFIC.]
Anyway, I never did see a real ghost in that building.
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And the spooky lingering scents of questionable substances.
[Aaaahaha that's not FILM in those little black canisters.]
I kind of miss it....photography. Not the walking in on make-outs.
[He tugs his poke'gear out of his pocket and fumbles with it, apparently getting ready to take a photo of her.]
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he'd just rather watch people through a hole in the wall AMIRITE HENRY?][Heather blinks when he takes out his 'Gear. ... And then realizes what he's doing and immediately makes the goofiest face she can manage. Along with a double thumbs-up.]
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A real life horror story.
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[A pause...]
Unless they turn out to be worse then what you imagined. But that isn't usually the case.
[Just...well Silent Hill stuff...yeah.]
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... Sex in a darkroom? FOR REAL? That's the guy's story?]
You've gotta be kid--
[Oh, and there goes a mention of a serial killer. What the hell is wrong with that guy and his completely random insertions of... weird things...]
... You really are kidding, right?
[HE HOPES HE IS.]
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I'm not...good at making up stories. [8c HENRY JUST COULDN'T BE ONE OF THE COOL KIDS.] All I have are things that have happened to me.
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Oh, gotcha. [A pause.] Sucks 'bout the serial killer. [CROW'S SYMPATHY. YOU HAVE IT, HENRY.]
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He tried to give me a doll. It was weird.
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... Wow, this story is getting weider and weider.]
Yeah, sounds odd. Maybe he was a psycho?
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That's not very scary.
[a beat]
Did that second one really happen?
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[Le pause.]
He was weird.
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Er. 'M sorry. [a-awkward all of a sudden]