hardlydead | open post ye wankers

[ evan was expecting something actually dangerous in that bag. some of those explosives they've developed. a weapon. a bunch of rocks so he can try to beat evan with it if things go bad.

glass isn't exactly something unusable as a weapon, but he sure as hell wasn't expecting alcohol. especially not enough to share. he stares at it as david sets it down, and then up at david, and wonders what in the fuck this is going to lead to.

but it's not a direct, immediate threat. which is a surprise. ]

Won't ask where you got it.

[ there's four places to get alcohol that he knows of, and it's always stolen. never a good idea to learn who got fucked over by losing their stash. but hell, if he was on their side, he'd do the same thing.

he waits until david's poured a measure for each of them to take whatever's offered, and lets the smell reach him through the mask. it's old and familiar and reminds him of things he'd rather not think of. ]

[ david lets out a quiet, amused breath at that. he can't decide if he'd want to know or not if he was in evan's position, but plausible deniability and having somebody bring it to you is probably the best option. ]

[ he pours them both a measure and nudges the mug toward evan, taking the jar for himself, no idea what goes through evan's head but at this point the smell of cheap liquor is, for david, the smell of some of the only good times he ever has anymore. some of the most miserable too, but somehow it's easier to let those go. already, just having a drink in his hand has improved his mood. ]

[ maybe he's also considered how easy it would be to smash this bottle to use it as a weapon, but one shouldn't sour the mood by letting that kind of thing linger at the front of their mind. ]

So.

[ david tilts his head up to look at evan, raises his eyebrows. ]

You invited me out here, so I think that means you go first.

[ he doesn't drink right away. he was never a heavy drinker - didn't need to be, not when the rage was always right there - but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate it. still, unlike david, it's not something that'll help him loosen up and talk more easily. he needs a clear mind for that. one unclouded by being drunk - or being furious.

evan watches david instead, seeing no rage, no demands, no uncertainty. not yet, anyway. one wrong word and it all goes to hell, he knows. but he doesn't want to talk about any of this. address even a single idea fermenting in the rot of his skull. ]

You keep gettin' in my way. Fucking around. Never learning. Keep gettin' better at it.

[ it's hard to put it into words, especially for him. but, for the moment, he'll try. ]

You, coupla the others. You do stupid shit and it sticks. Start wanting to see what else you do next.

[ he pushes the mask up partway - just enough to drink. the whiskey burns like fire, but that's fine. that's what it should do. ]

[ honestly after this long, david doesn't hate many of the killers in any real way, most of them are just playing their parts same as him. sure he'd jump on the chance to kick the shit out of most of them, but he saves his ire for the likes of the ones like ghost face, freddy. the ones who get off on tormenting people outside trials. ]

[ it makes shit like this easier, he's learning. makes it easy to just listen while evan talks, tries to sort out his thoughts-- well. david does open his mouth when evan says they never learn, but he stops himself with a sip of whiskey. sucks in a breath through his teeth at the familiar burn of it.
makes a quiet noise when evan drinks to indicate he's listening. thinking. ]

... That why you keep asking why I do what I do?

[ it isn't a good idea to talk with survivors like they're actual people, might even be equals, but the entity doesn't pay attention to much outside trials. as long as he performs in a trial, it won't care. the problem comes with starting to see them as people instead of prey.

if they're looking to fuck, it's different. just a release, a temporary truce to pretend they aren't in a nightmare. but this is getting dangerously close to finding truths about similarities. ]

You know how this ends, right?

[ the rumors fly, the old secrets never stay that way. survivors dig where they shouldn't. ]

Why bother knowin' you're worse'n dead?

[ he knows at least one answer: because it keeps them human. gives them hope. because it's all they can do. but maybe that's not the real answer. ]

Course I do.

[ it comes out a little snappier that david would've liked and he frowns, takes a breath and another sip. isn't that what he'd said last time, evan bringing it up being the thing that got him all wound up in the first place? well, the thing that tipped it over anyway. ]

[ he's never given it any deep thought though. people ask him why, give him grief about it, and david says that's what he's here for. it's his job. if him getting battered, broken. killed. if that gets the others out the gate, that's a win. ]

Fuck else am I gonna do? Hide out, hope for the best? That ain't me.

[ there's a lot to it maybe, if he really digs. ego, competitiveness, compassion for the others. david shrugs a shoulder, he doesn't know about all that. ]

Shit, maybe I'm just too stupid to change and that's all it is.

[ it's about as much of an answer as he can expect. it's a human thing, surviving like that. and maybe some part of david knows just how long this might take, how much suffering the entity wants, and wants it over as quick as possible. instead of desperately looking for a way out and letting the hope burn too brightly, he's just trying to get it all over with. and doesn't even realize it.

or maybe not. evan snorts at the final possible explanation. ]

Sure. Maybe.

[ he's rarely questioned survivors directly about this before. it isn't a great frame of mind of focus on. but it's part of what gets him interested despite himself. that, and the refusal to get off his fucking property. ]

That what makes you try to kill us?

[ and succeed. ]

Nah.

[ to be fair, he never intended to kill anyone until things took a turn last time, forced him into realising what he already knew really. these are killers, not some dickhead coming at him in an alley he can punch out and leave. and who fucking knows how fast one of them would get back up if he didn't finish the job. stupid, short-sighted. ]

[ he nudges at something on the ground with the toe of his boot and a frown on his face, eyes cast downward. ]

I was a fighter, right. Never lost neither. Then I get sucked up into this shithole, getting fuckin' slaughtered every day and you can't even fight back? Not for real.

[ it starts tired, a little dispassionate. just recounting facts he's told a million times before around the campfire. what did you do back home? oh, i used to fight. explains everything about the way he is in just a few words. by the end though, the exaustion isn't gone, but the rage is there, just under the surface, barely restrained like always. obvious in the way he starts to emphasise his words, the flare of his nostrils and the way he clenches his jaw. ]

[ he shakes his head, takes another sip of whiskey. ]

Pretty sure you can imagine how that winds a guy up.

[ funny enough, he can imagine. he'd be furious without being able to fight back - hell, he's furious even though he can. if he could turn around and gut everyone who ever hurt him, he'd do it. and he did, back before. does here, now, sometimes.

but understanding it doesn't mean he appreciates it, or has any intention of giving david a pass for it. it just means he gets where he's coming from. it's still unforgiveable. especially given the circumstances. ]

Sure.

[ he eyes the whiskey again, debating whether drinking now, even just to a buzz, is a good idea. but even if someone does creep up, it's not like he won't hear them. he tips the mask up again, downs half of what's left in one go. ]

So'd it feel like revenge? Leave you happy? Or did you really go throw up somewhere and cry in a corner?

[ there's less venom to the words than he'd like, or than david might expect. it's more like a real question. killing takes people differently. especially the first one, which is a turning point. evidently despite everything, david hadn't killed before getting here.

not really a surprise, given his status as survivor. ]

Shoulda felt good, right? Like getting one up on one of you fuckers finally.

[ obviously that's not the case, and it frustrates the hell out of david. it should feel great, should feel worth gloating about. as it is, he hasn't told anyone, not even to explain why he was all battered and bruised and halfway dead himself when he finally made it back to the campfire. ]

Lot to process-- dunno if you remember what that's like or if it were ever like that for you, seein' a dead body and knowing you done it, but...

[ but what. david tilts his head, eyes looking past evan at the wall behind him while he tries to find the words. there's a lot to it, the whole thing was messy, feels messy in his head. it's not easy to say it felt bad or good, because it's both and neither at the same time. because yeah, there's a part of him that feels a strong sense of satisfaction over hacking trapper with his own weapon, but it's overshadowed by so many other things. ]

Mostly just felt tired. Killed a guy and for what? He's just gonna be back after a while, pissed off as all hell about it.

[ because that's the thing about the fog, right? nothing's final. everything's just an endless cycle of shit until the entity gets all it can out of you. ]

[ he remembers. he knows it now. he sees a corpse, one he made, and most of the time what he feels is satisfaction. killing david is satisfying. the trespassers, survivor or killer. and back before it was the same, too, after a certain point. that was right, after all. it was the way of the world. he was on top. he was entitled to their deaths. so of course he enjoyed them, and still does.

but he also understands the frustration of killing someone who won't stay dead. that's this whole fucking place. it's why he's learned to take the satisfaction of the short term kill and let it ease the rage. otherwise, he'd probably be dead already. ]

So you didn't even like it. Gettin' back at me after all that.

[ his smile, just visible now, is thin and unamused. ]

You ain't such a piece of shit, or else you'd be gloating.

[ he down the rest of the whiskey in the mug and lets the burn mingle with the rest of the burn that runs through him every day. it's not nearly enough to get drunk on, or even really buzzed, but it's enough to keep the cleaver hanging off his belt instead of in his hand. ]

Dead's dead. Take what you can get around here. Cave in the ghost's skull, it's not like he's gonna get any less mad if you grovel about it.

I didn't say that.

[ that he didn't like it, he means. says it with a quirk of an eyebrow. because he did, and he worries about leaning into that part of himself. about getting carried away. ]

[ he thinks about the way ghetto masher screamed when he popped his eyeballs out with his thumbs, about the noises evan made the times he pulled that metal out of him. that was satisfying. that's what felt good. and it shouldn't be a surprise really, he's always struggled to hold back that viciousness. not always successfully. ]

Think I would've preferred doin' it with my hands.

[ is he joking? is he serious? he's tipping back the rest of what's in his glass either way. ]

[ evan looks at him in silence, and then actually laughs - nothing loud, or outright, but more than the dismissive snort he usually gives. okay, he misjudged. maybe there's worse in david than he thought.

though the part where he keeps ripping the shrapnel out and using it as a weapon while grinning probably should have been a tell. ]

Yeah? There's somethin' to that, you know. [ spoken as a man who primarily beat people to death before he opted for a massive weapon, who learned who to kill that way. ] You feel 'em going instead of just watchin' it.

[ he sets the mug down on the edge of the console, and reaches up to take his mask off fully so he can look at the carved, broken face of it. there's still that same distant little smirk on his face. ]

'Course I doubt you could get me that way.

Be a learnin' curve to it for sure.

[ david says it with an amused little uptick to his voice as he leans forward to put the empty jar down on the console, thinks about it for a second and then tops them both up. just a funny little thought experiment, right. not as if even if he backed off picking fights, he would still end up coming to blows with this guy sooner or later. ]

[ still, he can't help the part of himself that thinks, when evan says you feel them going, that that's how it should be. david's just... not going to focus on that. ]

Havin' a bunch of firsts with you apparently, why not that one too?

[ which is grimly amusing to him, one of those things that reminds him the fog is as ridiculous as it is hellish. ]

[ a learning curve is one way to put it, evan thinks, because very few people ever beat him in a fistfight. it's hard to beat someone who isn't just fighting to win but is desperate for it, dead certain they'll get it, and willing to kill to make sure that happens. here, he's almost unstoppable. almost.

he reaches for the drink, is about to make some idle if edged comment about david having to learn for the rest of his life, when the comment about firsts slides past his thoughts. it barely registers initially, and then he gives david a questioning look, the smirk fading a little. ]

You sayin' you never fucked anyone before? Or just not guys?

[ it barely occurred to him before, because he didn't care. and doesn't, really. but it's ... a little interesting to think about, if he dwells on it, and the alcohol lets him do that. he wouldn't have guessed, given the determination to walk right onto his property and just go for it that david had before. ]

[ it was just an offhand joke about the nature of whatever this situation between them is, but what evan asks in response is actually funny to david, the thought of himself as actually virginal enough to make him laugh. just a small, quiet chuckle. ]

Shit, could you imagine?

[ he shakes his head, meets evan's questioning look with a lightly amused one of his own. ]

Not the first guy. First cock up my arse though, so congrats.

[ granted the first, last, and only guy was a long time ago, even before the fog, but david's not thinking about that. if anything he's been pretty thoroughly derailed from his idle consideration of how he'd take trapper in a fistfight without also dying, to this. ]

[ he raises his glass in a little sardonic cheers with his congrats and knocks back a mouthful. ]

[ it didn't seem even remotely likely, so he snorts when david affirms that, no, there wasn't a first in that regard, at least not what he was suspecting.

the sarcastic tip of a glass almost makes him smirk again, but for the moment, he doesn't touch his own refilled cup. ]

That a big thing for you?

[ it's a joke, mostly. as he told david before, when they didn't kill each other, david wasn't even remotely the first survivor he's had - although even he has enough discretion to not drop names. it's not usually something anyone talks about, and for him it's not a huge deal.

maybe it should be, since it means they don't see him as just the dangerous, terrifying monster they used to see him as. but david apparently never thought that way in the first place. ]

Was curious if that was actually the whole reason you came out there, or if you just changed your mind after I smacked you around.

[ david, the very paragon of maturity and grace that he is, clearly has a joke spring to mind at the words 'big thing' judging by the brief glint in his eye and amused pull to his lips, but evan keeps talking and saves everyone from his dumb jokes. ]

[ he lets out an amused snort at the question, at the idea that getting roughed up was enough to make him consider it, and shakes his head. ]

Stubbornness more than anything, I think.

[ trying to discern the motivations of drunk david is both easy and like trying to pick out details through frosted glass, which is probably fitting because that's what his early memories of that are like too. ]

Felt like I were bein' challenged so of course I came out. And then it was put up or fuck off, and I weren't gonna fuck off, so...

[ and even drunk at the time, he could fight most people but he knew he'd just get obliterated by trapper. ]

[ put up or fuck off, and instead of losing a fight he opted for another possibility. well, evan's not going to tell him he picked wrong. he would have lost, drunk like that. evan would think he'd lose any other time, but their last encounter says that's not the case.

he can't even explain why he lost so badly. better not to dwell on it. he picks up the cup again, eyes the whiskey and then david. ]

Sounds about right.

[ he'd probably do the same thing, likely without the same results. if he was a survivor ... well, he can't say he'd win every fight. he doesn't know for sure. he doesn't want to think about being on their side of things. ]

Any regrets?

[ it's asked casually. he's not about to take it personally if david says yes. some people, drunk or high or in the heat of the moment, do things that make them wonder at their own sanity later, and he's been that thing multiple times. it's more curiosity that he's asking than anything else - not the first time tonight, he considers darkly as he takes another slow sip of the whiskey. ]

[ he should. he should regret it. he would think anyone with even an ounce of sanity left in them would feel like they made a bad choice there, hooking up with someone on their side of the fence, but once he'd sat down and tried to get his head straight about it, that really wasn't the part of it that bothered him. and the other shit was, well. it's hard to face someone when you're hopped up on your own internalised bullshit combined with a need to fight just about everyone and everything that can't ever really be sated, and then you turn around and let them fuck you without even a little pushback. ]

[ but — and he'd never admit it out loud, and definitely not to evan — it was kind of nice to just let go of all that for a little bit. helps that evan doesn't give a shit about him in a really weird, fucked up kind of way. that's why people go to him, he guesses. ]

Nah.

[ he says it after a long, thoughtful pause, lifts his drink to his lips and then pauses with a breath of a laugh when something else occurs to him. ]

Well-- could've done with more than just a little spit.

[ who knew someone could be thankful to get called to trial just because it meant their ass wouldn't be sore anymore and the bruises would be gone. ]

[ he accepts that without a question - no regrets means it's a non-zero chance of happening again, and he'll take a distraction without thinking if the opportunity's there - and lets the whiskey burn its way through him. less, now, since he's already had enough to set the burn to numbness, to make the anger settle down into a seethe instead of an almost-boil.

the following comment, though, makes him almost laugh. he smirks against the cup, watching david a little more intently than before. ]

We'd gone into the workshop, you woulda had more.

[ not necessarily something any sane person would consider using, but consequences are light, here. ]

But you didn't wanna wait. Figure I coulda bent you over something out in the open and you wouldn't be complainin' 'til now.

[ he's not complaining, either. he doesn't care who knows what he does with survivors - well, mostly he doesn't care. ]

[ there isn't much that can fluster david, but that sure does it. it's not much, a cough when his surprise makes a little whiskey go down wrong, a momentary freeze with a brief wide-eyed look. the sort of thing it'd be easy to brush over and recover from if this were a group conversation and not one-on-one. ]

[ he coughs again, thumps his chest with a fist, and gives evan a withering look like he did that on purpose. ]

That-- [ voice a little raw, he points with one of the fingers curled around his whiskey jar for emphasis. ] you would've heard a lot from me about.

[ it's an... interesting mental image, and if it pops into david's head later nobody needs to know about it, but there's just no way he wouldn't raise hell about it. there's a lot to be said for the illusion of privacy afforded by just a few rickety walls. ]

Just didn't wanna bottle it. I mean no offence but I wasn't entirely convinced I weren't gonna come away bleedin' out my backside.

[ evan's clearly amused by the reaction - his smirk is a little wider, the look in his eyes less murderous than usual. david's never been the sort to back off or fluster, so watching him almost choke over one sentence is worth keeping in mind.

he throws back half the whiskey instead of replying immediately, and shrugs at the followup. it's possible, but ... ]

Live and learn. I try not to break you anyone the first time around.

[ not to say the same of the second time. ]

Otherwise none of you'd come back.

[ no regrets, right? ]

So you're saying I should be worried about next time.

[ david snorts and shakes his head, follows suit and tips back the rest of his drink. one would hope he's not quite that bad on a second go around, but honestly evan's hard to read even without the mask. ]

[ the smirk doesn't change, at least not right away, and he gives david a few seconds of silence before looking back down into the whiskey again. ]

Maybe. If there's a next time.

[ he finishes off his drink and, for once not completely inclined to cave david's skull in despite not being injured, shifts against the console. ]

Figure it'll be the next time you get real drunk and make another stupid dare.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject