oceanview || ❝ hold hands with my demons and creatures of night. ❞

[outlierdirector]

OCEANVIEW I

blinded by reflections.

Is there anybody out there?
Someone who can hear me and drink from the light
To see things from the same side
Is there anybody out there? CODE BY TESSISAMESS

Comments

[outlierdirector]

[ That part of Jesse who boxes herself in behind walls of mistrust isn't sure why he'd want to see where she lives. His home in New York was probably grander, better, more fitting for a best selling novelist. She doesn't spend nearly as much time as she'd like there--but at least it's more than what Trench ended up having.

So, it's something like a life outside the Oldest House.

Sort of.

« Well, it's my dream. Who says I can't go where I want? I used it to find you. Maybe it can help Alan find something he needs for the story. »

Jesse brushes her lips against his once more before raising her head. She looks properly to the door beside them and nods to it. It's still difficult to move, but, she tries at least. Her legs shake as she tries to push herself up from him, and her hand doesn't quite make the door handle.

« Nice, Jesse. Way to impress the author you have pinned between your legs. Real smooth. » ]

Sorry. [ She tries to at least save some face. What kind of Director can't even pull herself together in her own dreamstate? ] We can go through this door and it'll take us there.

[ And, while she has no intentions of grabbing her shirt or jacket? Jesse does grab the messenger bag beside him. It's important and even if he could have it back in an instant due to dream logic? She wants him to know how important she knows it is to him. ]

[crazyisinevitable]

[ If he knew what she was thinking, he would tell her he wants to see where she lives because it's proof for him that life is going on in other realities. The Dark Place tries to stifle life. Humanity. Sanity. Vitality. There are times when Alan feels as though his life is slowly being snuffed out by the stifling darkness of the hellish dimension, what might as well be hell itself. Or if not hell, then a gateway to it.

His days, if they can even be called days, are filled with writing and more writing. Pacing. Staring out the window. More pacing. More writing. Sometimes more frustrated reactions. Screaming. Throwing the typewriter.

He wants to see light. Life. Signs of life. Jesse's alive. If he sees where she lives, maybe he'll be reminded that life is still going on. The Dark Place isn't the world. But then a thought occurs to him. Well, it does, but he's distracted from forming it by the way Jesse's legs shake and her hand misses the door handle. ]

I got it, Jesse. You're still not 100%. [ Alan hasn't been 100% in a long time, but Jesse still can recover. Regroup. Retake control. If he can help with that recovery, then he's going to try. ] Let me help.

[ It doesn't bother him to see her having difficulty moving. All it makes him feel is concern for her. There isn't much he can do for her in return for what she's done for him, but he still feels as though he has to do something. ]

What if I- [ He coughs and cuts himself off. What if she thinks he's ridiculous for suggesting this? ] What if I carried you?

[ There. It's out. Now she can laugh and call him a sentimental fool. But he's at least genuine about it. He'd carry her through the door until they get inside and find a place for her to rest. She certainly needs it. ]

[outlierdirector]

( continued here)