BETRAYAL AT THE HOUSE ON THE GAME TOWER - END

[idolpro]

Who: Traitors and Survivors, Exael
Where: The Game Tower, and leaving it
When: Day 25, morning-- it appears that game lasted the bulk of day 24 into the night.

[ Abruptly, the nightmare ends.

You, in the rooms you kept restarting in, awoke. Before you can even panic, before even despair, the elevator doors were open in front of you to take you downstairs again. It could be a trap, sure, but your head is quiet— those fucking ghosts are gone. You also appear to be wet like someone dumped, perhaps, a bucket of holy water on you while you were asleep. All your wounds are gone, and you have been left bereft of any physical damage from your ordeal.

Unless you choose to take some with you. Nothing prevents you from taking any of your spoils downstairs with you, if you wish it, though all revolvers will have no ammo.

On the screens as you descend back to the lobby, Exael is clapping on screen, broadcast showing her in the mansion's entrance hall. "And so close the gates to this forbidden garden, and so closes this chapter of our story! Just as—" her hologram flickers as she doesn't seem to notice, chattering still to the cameras, "so too will—" fzzt, fzzt. Static, flickering, and then back into focus, "So give them all a hand! Everyone, you've done well! You stand before us still, ready to present us all with more marvels after having survived such grisly wonders with—" "—in the balance!"

As she speaks, she doesn't notice a figure approaching behind her. He's in a slick suit with both hands in his pockets, and you've seen him before— his portrait is in the foyer. His shoes are utterly silent as he walks across the marble floor, till he's right at her back.

"Audience and actors alike, we've been blessed with—" Her hologram doesn't flicker this time, but she stops speaking. Her eyebrows furrow as she tries to figure out what's amiss, and only belatedly begins to slowly look over her shoulder.

"Exael," he says with a friendly hand on her solidifying hologram shoulder, the effect spreading beneath his touch, "We need to have a chat about your requisitions paperwork."

She tilts her head, eyes wide with a finger tapping against her cheek as she thinks, "I didn't do any!"

"Yes," he agrees, smiling with all his teeth. "I know."

The broadcast cuts. The doors open to let you leave. ]

Comments

[unbr8kable]

[stares]

...How long did this take?

[crossmyheartandhope]

I don't know.

I-it was early, so like.

[His voice breaks, and he gives up on the sentence. They're probably close enough that she can feel his chest heave when his breath hitches in, sharp and unsteady.]

[unbr8kable]

Jesus.

[Reflexively she squeezes him closer, attempting to be a solid anchor against his trembling. Jesus. She thinks about the hours she spent alone in that house. She thinks about just how old that paper looks.]

I'm so sorry.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His breath hitches in again, and he lifts the left hand back up to hold onto her, crushing the strip of paper still in his palm.]

[His forehead drops onto the crook where her neck meets her shoulder, just resting there.]

So is. [He hesitates - swallows.] Is this like - ?

[unbr8kable]

[She sucks in a breath; leans her head against his. Breathes out.]

We're out. --I mean, we're still in this shit place but not in that damned mansion.

[Another harsh breath]

You're out. This's real.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Oh.]

[That's.]

[He has been needing to hear those words for actual, literal decades.]

[His face just crumples.]

[unbr8kable]

Hurricane--

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Nnnnope, sorry. Tears are incoming.]

[At least chances are good that they're tears of overwhelming relief?]

[unbr8kable]

[Better than many alternatives, but still--]

[..."Still" nothing; 100 years in a mirror deserves a good cry if anything does. Even if it didn't, she still wouldn't do anything but cling to him and try very hard not to think about the horrifying implications of all of this because she doesn't want her voice to wobble.]

It's okay. It's over. This was so, so shitty, but it's over now. You're out.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He's too busy holding on for dear life and breaking the hell down to try and answer right now.]

[The words are making him cry harder, honestly, but mostly that's because they sound too good to be real.]

[unbr8kable]

[She'll just hold on, then, forcing her breaths even and her back straight. In the house--she couldn't (didn't) do anything back then--she can't undo what's already happened--but she can support him now. The stream of murmured assurances continues, even as her voice breaks and they become more repeated apologies than anything else]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[It takes a while for him to cry himself out.]

[It's loud, and messy, and borderline hysterical. Probably the shoulder of her jacket is soaked by the time he's done.]

[But eventually - eventually - the out-and-out sobs give way to unsteady, hitched breathing and he just leans there, up against her.]

[unbr8kable]

[By the time he's done she's long since run out of words. The soft, shaky strokes through his hair continue though, waiting for his breaths to calm]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[And eventually they do. They're not smooth and even, but at least he doesn't seem like he's going to shake himself apart anymore.]

[unbr8kable]

[Good. Not that she wouldn't try to hold him together but it's much less terrifying not needing to. In any case, she does not pull away]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He takes a breath in. Another.]

[Eventually, hoarse and kind of shaky:]

...sorry. Your jacket's kinda. Kinda gross.

[unbr8kable]

[soft, like her throat feels hot]

...Been a gross night. Wire'll just have to scrub harder next time.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[It takes a beat or two too long for him to get the reference. It's been a long, long time since then.]

[Thankfully (?) he's spent entire years turning over better times in his mind, trying as best he was able to think of anything but a dark, empty space and a window out into the kitchen.]

[So he gets there, eventually - makes a wet, choked sort of sound that might be trying to be a laugh.]

[unbr8kable]

[Ah

Ahh.

Her fingers clench reflexively; her attempt at a smile goes even weaker than before and it's surely not the right time, but. still.]

...I know maybe you don't wanna talk about it and I promise you don't have to, but I gotta ask. How did this happen, who did this?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[She probably feels him tense right the hell up. His eyes skitter to the side, and his breathing picks up, and - yeah, the shaking sure is back.]

He. H-he pushed me.

[unbr8kable]

[Also tenses, but holds him more securely anyway. Her voice stays soft.]

Can you tell me about it? I wanna make sure he never does it again.

[Just. Ignoring how well her defense went last time. But this is more important. She can't give up without even knowing.]

[crossmyheartandhope]

I should've.

[He pauses. Swallows. He has had a long time to think about this.]

I messed up. I got - warned. But I thought. He said mirrors, and there wasn't - it wasn't.

[unbr8kable]

So he pushed you anyway?

[crossmyheartandhope]

I. H-he.

[His breathing has definitely picked up, here - he's borderline hyperventilating.]

I let him. I could've - [He squeezes his eyes shut, holding onto her like his life depends on it.] He said. He said he wouldn't hurt me.

[unbr8kable]

[She listens to the rush of his breath, can feel the pounding of his heart through the grimy uniform, and she shouldn't push but she has to.]

Who?