[ Jesse watches his every move. Not like the owl that watches him that neither are aware of. There's nothing predatory or judgemental in the gaze. She worries how he moves, how he struggles, and she shifts slightly in the air to compensate for his weight. Her hands remain on his shoulders, guiding him, feeling Polaris' resonance washing over and through him.
Trying to resonate with that spark inside.
She starts to respond, but finds the words halted in her throat. Not because of what he's said, but how he has said her name. She's gotten used to telling what state of mind he is in by how he addresses her. How he says her name. The Director. Faden. Jesse. Jesse. There is a particular tone that is Alan's, and she can tell instantly when he's truly with her.
Her Alan, the one who called her, who seems to love her fire colored hair. She isn't one to use fantastical ways to describe things. But, there is something about Alan that feels right. The same kind of right that Polaris and the Oldest House do. Something that speaks to how the real world actually is.
She really does love and adore it. Him. Alan Wake.
Jesse nods to his question. Her shoulders square to be ready for his anger at the fact she is here with him. It must really be the Dark Place.
Her hands leave his shoulders to cup his face between them. ]
I don't... I don't really know how. I was with you, and Saga, Steve, Estevez... Casey. On the beach of the Lake. Then, Saga. She...
[ Jesse's gaze finally drops from him as she stares downwards. There isn't much to see other than how their chests touch. How she feels his hoodie and old jacket look perfect on him. Almost like how he should look. Alan Wake, the Champion of Light.
She can hear the gunshot still in her mind. The yelling from Steve, Casey going to grab the gun from Saga. It's all too late. Alan's on the beach, bullet in his head. Her eyebrows knit together as tears come into her eyes once more.
« I failed him. I'm supposed to be his hero. But... when it really mattered, I... »
She frowns deeper. ]
T-there's a feeling when the loop restarts. Like falling from reality to another. I'm always back in the Motel--but, not this time. I was... somehow on a talk show? With some guy named Mr. Door. I got back to the Motel, but, you called me. I had to find you...s-so here I am.
[ Her green eyes remain pointed downwards even as she presses her forehead to his. The one that doesn't have a bullet. Because, Alan isn't dead. He hasn't died. That ending can't be the real one--the draft can't be the final one.
She waits a moment, then, closes her eyes. Her lips brush agaisnt his softly. Maybe he can hear her better if they're closer. She'll get the chance to save him once he realizes she's there. ]
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Trying to resonate with that spark inside.
She starts to respond, but finds the words halted in her throat. Not because of what he's said, but how he has said her name. She's gotten used to telling what state of mind he is in by how he addresses her. How he says her name. The Director. Faden. Jesse. Jesse. There is a particular tone that is Alan's, and she can tell instantly when he's truly with her.
Her Alan, the one who called her, who seems to love her fire colored hair. She isn't one to use fantastical ways to describe things. But, there is something about Alan that feels right. The same kind of right that Polaris and the Oldest House do. Something that speaks to how the real world actually is.
She really does love and adore it. Him. Alan Wake.
Jesse nods to his question. Her shoulders square to be ready for his anger at the fact she is here with him. It must really be the Dark Place.
Her hands leave his shoulders to cup his face between them. ]
I don't... I don't really know how. I was with you, and Saga, Steve, Estevez... Casey. On the beach of the Lake. Then, Saga. She...
[ Jesse's gaze finally drops from him as she stares downwards. There isn't much to see other than how their chests touch. How she feels his hoodie and old jacket look perfect on him. Almost like how he should look. Alan Wake, the Champion of Light.
She can hear the gunshot still in her mind. The yelling from Steve, Casey going to grab the gun from Saga. It's all too late. Alan's on the beach, bullet in his head. Her eyebrows knit together as tears come into her eyes once more.
« I failed him. I'm supposed to be his hero. But... when it really mattered, I... »
She frowns deeper. ]
T-there's a feeling when the loop restarts. Like falling from reality to another. I'm always back in the Motel--but, not this time. I was... somehow on a talk show? With some guy named Mr. Door. I got back to the Motel, but, you called me. I had to find you...s-so here I am.
[ Her green eyes remain pointed downwards even as she presses her forehead to his. The one that doesn't have a bullet. Because, Alan isn't dead. He hasn't died. That ending can't be the real one--the draft can't be the final one.
She waits a moment, then, closes her eyes. Her lips brush agaisnt his softly. Maybe he can hear her better if they're closer. She'll get the chance to save him once he realizes she's there. ]