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synthneon2023-12-08 03:31 pm
outlierdirector) wrote in synthneon2023-12-08 03:31 pm
oceanview || ❝ made a promise i'm coming out alive. ❞
Through the waves, I break
The nightmares finally over
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[ The voice over the payphone asks that question, and Alan grinds his teeth in frustration. ] How the fuck could I?
[ It's clear from Alan's tone that he's in no mood for being jerked around by the mysterious voice on the other end of the phone. He's been jerked around by the story too, even killed by it, and he's been through more hell than anyone really deserves, even an asshole like him.
All he wants is to get out of this hellish nightmare, and finally get to go home. But he still sees no end in sight, just more loops, more drafts, more people who are far too vague and seemingly more interested in stringing him along than they are in helping him. Of course, there's a couple of people who are exceptions to that, but the voice on the phone doesn't seem to be one of them.
He and Alan exchange more words, and Alan's frustration only grows. The voice drops more hints, more vague details, and the call ends with Alan finding the mysterious man's room key sitting on the payphone. It's convenient. Almost too convenient. Alan doesn't trust in convenience anymore. He doesn't trust in much of anything.
But what does he have to lose? The Dark Place could screw with him more, and raise the stakes more, but he feels as though it's not tempting fate to say that he's already had so much taken from him that anything else is just par for the course at this point. There is a part of him that expects there to be nothing left of him by the time the Dark Presence is done with him. The only thing that might stop it is if he finds a way to end the story and escape for good, but in his eyes, the likelihood of that is growing less and less all the time.
He doesn't really want to take this detour, but he figures if he does, he can finally find out just who's been talking to him on the phone, and that'll be one less mystery for him to solve. Another one is likely to crop up in its place, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there.
The hotel is every bit as winding and looping as it's always been, or maybe it's just the Dark Place making it be that way. He passes doors and goes down hallways, sometimes using the Angel Lamp when it resonates with something, but for the most part, the trek to Room 665 is uneventful. That is, until he turns a corner and spots a familiar box that normally contains supplies. He opens it, and instead of finding ammunition or med kits, he finds a keychain. Not just any keychain either. The sight of it causes Alan to let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding in.
I know this. It's from her, but what's it doing here? How did it get here? I lost it in one of the loops. At least, I think I did. I don't understand anything about this place. Dream logic, I guess.
He moves to clip the keychain onto his bag, but at the last second, he decides to hold it in his hand for a little while. Something about having it makes him feel closer to... well. Someone. It's a fool's hope to think that maybe a keychain could lead him back to that someone, but, well... Alan knows he's a fool sometimes.
An image, or a recollection, flashes into Alan's mind then. It's similar to something he's seen before, but it's changed somehow too. He hears his own voice narrating and sees his own silhouette in his mind's eye, the keychain having triggered a memory of some kind.
I couldn't explain it. But something about this felt familiar. I felt an overwhelming closeness to home. Something was trying to guide me there. I wanted to let it, so I followed that feeling, hoping it took me where I wanted to go.
Alan turns another corner and finally spots his destination: Room 665. He doesn't waste any time inserting the key into the lock, turning it, and stepping inside. ]
Hello?
[ If the person from the other end of the phone call is here, they're doing a good job of hiding themselves. Alan takes another step into the room, still looking around. ]
no subject
Upon doing so, Alan finds himself transported to another experience of reality. Much like when Mr. Door pulls him to the talk show, things feel more realistic than normal in the Dark Place. Behind the Writer is a door he has walked through: Room 665. A room that is lived in, hardly kept, and quite obviously some sort of hot spot for art.
A mantle is nearby with the painting of a black and white spiral.
The occupant of the room stands shirtless on the bed. Then, suddenly, he moves. In a jerky instant moment, the long haired man wears a jacket and is in front of Alan with a lamp. ]
In this temple of shadow and mist,
There is a window in the floor
And a door in the ceiling.
There is no knowing
Am I standing still, or running, or kneeling.
[ An odd movement, similar to Taken, happens. The man is standing in front of the Spiral image with a wide smile on his face. ]
Tom Zane. Welcome to the House of Zane! Oh. It's so good to see you again, Alan!
[ Words are exchanged back and forth. Most the time Zane has a way to brush off questions with non answers. A drink is given to Alan and the explanation of "Return" given--a piece of fiction written by Alan to accompany Zane's film. An attempt of artistic collaboration to create art that would see them from the Dark Place.
Oh, but Alan needs a murder site, doesn't he? Something to understand the road he is on to land him with where "Return" might be. All Alan will need to do is follow the waves of the ocean of the Dark Place and the creativity will take him where he wishes to be.
Then, the T.V. clicks on. Zane jumps and gasps. A man--a familiar scientist--tries to find a frequency before static once more. Then, a familiar face. Maybe only familiar to Alan anyways. The color on the screen is monochrome, but the bright eyes should be familiar.
The woman seemingly leans closer to the screen. A voice that harmonizes with itself. ] ｟ Hello? ｠
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What'll it be this time? Not another insane musical number, I hope.
[ Luckily for him, it's not. Mr. Door isn't there, the Old Gods aren't either, and there's a quiet that's fallen over the room, except for the ceiling fan and- wait. There's a man on the bed, shirtless for some reason, and as soon as he sees Alan, he moves and appears in front of him. ]
What the hell? [ Clothes and objects appearing out of nowhere isn't the weirdest thing Alan's ever seen, but it still took him by surprise. It's already occurred to Alan that the man's movements are reminiscent of Taken, and so his hand has shifted to rest on his gun in case he needs to lift it to fire. He doesn't trust anything down here, especially not someone who keeps calling him on payphones and being frustratingly vague. ]
Tom Zane. The... the poet. Or diver. Filmmaker. Whoever the hell you are. That was you on the phone?
[ Zane launches into an explanation with too many words and even more crazy metaphors than even Alan can remember using in his entire career. A crazy thought occurs to him and he pushes it away, refusing to even give it the time of day. Zane's answers aren't answers at all, and they just serve to make Alan more frustrated. ]
I don't know why you wanted me to come here. Obviously this is just another waste of time, another pointless trail leading me nowhere. What the hell does "creativity will take me where I wish to be" even mean?
[ Zane opens his mouth to say something, that smile that comes too easily to his face sliding into place, but he never gets to say whatever he was going to. The TV in the room turns on, and both men turn toward it automatically. Zane gasps, but Alan remains silent, just watching and waiting to see what's going to happen. The man on the screen looks vaguely familiar, but it's the next face that appears that causes all the air in Alan's lungs to leave him in a rush.
Green eyes, glowing as bright as always. He can't see her hair, but he knows that face. He'd know it anywhere. He steps up to the TV screen and places his hand on its surface. ]
... Jesse.
[ Is this a message? Obviously it's something, but what? ]
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The shock!
Jesse's image flickers. Then, she turns away from the screen, as if talking to someone unseen. The static fills the screen before the familiar scientist returns. He looks side to side and messes with old school television ears before smiling. He moves side to side in an excited little dance before the TV once more turns to static.
This time an image of what is best described as a shimmering kaleidoscope appears. Spinning, wrapping around itself. A hand comes towards the screen and presses against Alan's, and in what could make only sense in dream logic, he can feel the hand to his. A familiar touch that he should know well.
A woman's figure can be seen in the shimmering kaleidoscope and a faint familiar hum. Light seems to bounce off the shimmer despite it being such a dark place. There should be no light, and yet, somehow light reflects off it. ]
｟ Come home, Alan. ｠
Ah, no, I wouldn't! [ Zane speaks up in a hushed panic whisper. ] They're onto us, Alan! You can't let them know you're here--or I'm here with you!
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Still, he can't seem to force himself to look away from the screen, no matter what Zane says. ]
They're- What? I don't know what you're thinking, but no one's onto anyone, at least not in a "gotcha" kind of way. [ His eyes narrow as he briefly spares a glance for the other man. ]
What's got you so scared? Whatever it is, I won't say anything about you.
[ Zane's just fallen several rungs down the ladder of Alan's interest. He could run away or leave the room and that would be fine with him. Alan's not scared at all, because he knows just who he's looking at on the screen. The shimmering is just another confirmation of that. He trusts it, and it's a welcome sight. ]
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[ The hand presses further, trying to break through the flimsy screen in the way. If they can properly touch, then maybe the Writer can hear them. The connection could be better established if the Dark Presence hasn't gotten to him again. They could keep him awake...
But, the Dark Presence has gotten to Alan Wake since the guiding star came to the Dark Place.
At least twice more.
Things seem to distort. The static on the screen returns. With Zane having scampered off, a tugging feeling surrounds Alan. He finds himself once more in the empty room of 665 with only the projector having come to an end to keep him company.
An odd sound fills the air. An idea. An echo. The faint sounds of a familiar detectives voice fill the hallway behind him. Distorted and unfocused until Alan turns his attention to them. ]
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Everything around him warps and distorts and he has the strange feeling of being in between reality. Whether or not that's true, he doesn't know, but he feels a definite shift.
That's not the only thing he feels; something is tugging at him, pulling on him, and he's back in room 665. Alone again. But strangely, Alan doesn't feel too upset about it. Jesse and Polaris are still out there somewhere in their reality, and even a glimpse of them is a jolt of encouragement and reassurance. He'll take what he can get.
He doesn't have too long to linger idly, however, as his attention is drawn by a familiar sound and the sight of a curious circular shape. Muffled words can be heard as he draws his flashlight and flicks it on, shining it over the shape hovering in front of him. ]
What now? Probably something else leading me to that murder site.
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Or, maybe, it's really just the Dark Place reacting to a subconscious thought that Alan has. An attempt at bridging two thoughts together to conform them into a coherent string of consciousness. Maybe it just uses the face of the detective that Alan wrote for years. Or... it's simply Alan in his Writer's Room using Casey once more as he needs him.
The vague image of Casey appears again, walking into the hallway, overlapped with his silhouette. ]
『 I came to the Oceanview Hotel because of a lead. Supposedly a theater production decided to hold a play that got out of hand. A play that led to a real ritualistic murder and summoned the Devil himself. Supposedly. Was this Devil the writer, Alan Wake? Or his doppleganger, Mr. Scratch? Wake's ex didn't have the information I needed.
Typical of ex-wives. 』
[ He disappears then reappears closer to Alan. Hands in his pockets, silhouette looking out the window into the never ending dark raining city that modeled itself after New York. The world of the private investigator Alex Casey that Alan wrote about for years. Made him famous. ]
『 Standing here in the hallway, looking out at the city, made me realize something. Almost like remembering a detail I had learned but forgot in a dream. How... did I get this case? WHY was I looking into the missing writer Alan Wake, the Cult of the Word, Mr. Scratch? At first, I didn't have the answer, and it didn't bother me. Standing here, though, in this hallway in THIS Hotel. I asked myself it. 』
[ Casey flickers again, being further down the hall, but still looking out the window. ]
『 Then I found a... keychain. A charm. Something that looked like it came from one of those cheap tourist shops on your way out of a vacation. Something like a "his and hers" little nicknack. I presumed it belonged to the male of the relationship. After all, the missing half was in the shape of a doe. A buck and a doe. Cute.
It brought back the memory of what started me on this crazy fucking case to begin with. A woman, of course. A dame looking for a missing man. "Find Alan Wake", she said. I pointed out to her he had been missing for over a decade. Gone diving, never swimming back up to the surface. Still, she insisted, like all women head over heels for a man. 』
[ Casey disappears once more, finally appearing at the doors to the elevator that led Alan to Room 665. ]
『 How had I forgotten who gave me this case to start with? Forgot what she looked like. Forgotten her voice. It wasn't her voice in my head in the memories... just some harmonious tune that mimicked the voice of a real person. Like a resonating echo that was trying to jog the memories from my booze and trauma ridden brain.
"Find Alan Wake." Better said than done in this hell hole of a city. 』
[ The idea comes to a close, and the stillness of the Oceanview Hotel returns. However, the door to the elevator opens. ]
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Alan pauses to listen once the image of Casey starts to speak. It all sounds like things that Alan's heard before, words meant to give him ideas and direction about where to go. How to find the murder scene that Zane spoke of. The context surrounding it all. He focuses in on it when he hears Casey say his name, and Scratch's name. He even mentions Alice, and that causes something inside him to clench up.
But the scene continues, and Casey muses about the case, the missing writer, the cult... The scene changes again, and Alan starts to really pay attention. Casey starts to describe a keychain, a charm... his and hers. That feeling of something clenching inside him intensifies, and he hunches over slightly as if being pressed down by a sudden swell of emotion. He remembers the charm that's still somehow clenched in his hand, and he lifts his hand to look at it. ]
His and hers. Jesse. [ His expression falls as the realization of how much he misses her, no matter how long or short a time it's been since they've seen each other, settles in on him. She's his other half, and he feels incomplete without her. It's a trite idea, but he knows it's true.
He's listening to the rest of what Casey's said, but his mind has wandered off to thoughts of Jesse. For just a moment, he allows himself a second of indulgence: imagining Jesse with her fire red hair and the green eyes that light up when she's feeling a particularly strong emotion, whether positive or negative. In his mind, he reaches for her, but she's out of his reach. It's like he's back to touching an image on a screen, knowing his touch won't be felt but wishing it could be.
It takes some effort on his part, but he pulls himself out of his memories just in time to hear the rest of Casey's monologue. ]
A harmonious tune, huh? [ Whatever this is, it seems to be echoing experiences Alan's had, or if not that, then it's just a coincidence. But Alan doesn't really believe in those anymore. ]
Find Alan Wake. [ He huffs out a humorless laugh. ] Even Alan Wake can't find Alan Wake. [ He rolls his eyes, shaking his head, as the image of Casey seems to have finally run out of words to say. He's still standing there looking towards the spot where the detective once stood, and that's when he hears the faint ding and the sound of the elevator doors thudding open. Turning towards them, he raises an eyebrow. ]
What now?
[ Of course, he knows enough about this place to know that when things like that happen, there's a reason for it. So he approaches the elevator and steps inside as the doors close and it lurches into motion. He leans against the nearest wall waiting for the elevator to come to a stop. He watches the numbers light up as it moves on its way, and feels it when it finally stops. The ding sounds again and the doors slide open.
He steps out of the elevator and into the hallway. ]
Time to look around, I guess. Again.
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A bloody typewriter in the center with the words: In this room he will hurt her.
The "her" is left open to interpretation.
From the ballroom is the hallways that split in a V shape. Shadowed shapes roam, muttering various words and phrases. Some even seem hostile until they dispurse in the light. There is something else that seems to be roaming in the halls. A feminine shape always in the corner of the eye or turning into a room at the last second.
Just as the woman may seem to drive him mad with lodging him, Alan can catch a better glimpse of her down the hall. She isn't shadowed, but not entirely a silhouette either. At the right angle she seems to reflect low light as if she's a kaleidoscope. Her head turns towards him down the hall. Then, she opens a door and steps inside.
The room is a mess and that isn't what it's important. The woman steps through a door on the opposite side of the room. A short cut to keep the shadowed people at bay. She is guiding him more that stringing him along. Her steps don't even cause a sound as she walks down the hallway.
Familiar humming can be heard.
The woman raises a hand on a door marked in police tape. Fingers brush along the door to pull the tape down. A key drops beside her and she seems to disappear. Not in the way a shadowed person might. No, instead, it's almost like losing the signal on a transmission or broadcast. She simply... fades.
The humming continues behind the door. ]
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So far, he's not really that optimistic. The typewriter and the words don't do anything to settle his nerves or his mood. Enough people have been hurt because of him. Jesse and Alice have been hurt enough because of him. It has to stop somewhere.
Alan follows the hallways, hearing the mumbling of the shadows as they roam around, some of them pausing when he passes them by. He braces himself for a confrontation, but as he makes his way along, either the shadows do nothing or they simply fade from sight. There's something else that's lurking around, although "lurking" isn't the right word. It's an image spotted from out of the corner of Alan's eye, and sometimes he thinks he's imagining it, like it's a trick of the light.
But he keeps seeing a woman a few steps ahead of him, seemingly flitting in and out of view as she turns corners and traverses hallways. He can't really get a good look at her, but he finds himself compelled to trail along after her.
Something like frustration ripples beneath the surface; he can't seem to catch up to her, but maybe that's by design. Maybe something's screwing with him again. That just seems to be his life. But the glimpse he gets of her next drives the breath out of him. There's a shimmer to her that he's certain he's not imagining. But that's impossible, isn't it? Just because he saw something on a TV screen doesn't mean anything. It can't be connected. Or can it?
Still he follows after her as she opens a door and walks through it. He doesn't see anything around him but the woman. Maybe he'd feel like he's being strung along, but something about this is telling him that's not what's going on. This could be a trap, and he could be being lured into a false sense of security, but no warning bells are going off in his mind right now.
If there were any, they fade entirely at the sound of that familiar humming. ]
Tim... Still here and working on his crazy wall, I bet.
[ He watches the woman as she pulls down the police tape that's marking a door. And then... just like that, she's gone, fading away as if she was never there. Alan stops, his steps halting in place as his eyes search the place where the woman was. A key's on the ground, but it's not what Alan's looking at. He's still looking for the woman, but inside, he knows there's no point. What did the words on the subway walls say? You lost her.
That could have any number of meanings, but right now, all Alan feels is a sense of loss. But the humming sounds again, and since he's come this far and has nothing else to do, he bends down to pick up the key so he can use it on the door. Once it's unlocked, he pushes it open and steps inside, looking for the source of the humming. ]
At least there's still one friendly face down here.
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Oh, hey, Alan.
[ Alan seems more put together than Tim remembers. There's times when Alan looks like he's all there, then times when it looks like Alan is about ready to lose his mind. Instead he just looks... solemn. Like he's lost someone. ]
You okay, man? The residents have been ... well, you know. Grumpy today. Can't imagine why.
[ He raises a hand and gestures to the whiteboard. It's filled out now, with a small little annotation to the RED HEADED WOMAN category: "Her name is Jesse." "Old Gods of Asgard did a song about her?" "Hedron>Jesse>...something else?" ]
Feel free to look around. I found some supplies and added to the board. Nothing too crazy though. I haven't been able to find out much since we went to Door's talk show. [ He pauses, testing to see if Alan remembers it. The last few times they met, Alan gave no indication he remembered anything. Even Tim's name. Though, Tim is used to it happening. ] Oh, updated the map too. Found a few new things.
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But there's still some things he can hold onto, such as the fact that maybe it's still possible to get Tim out of here. But he holds onto that thought for the moment. ]
I'm- Managing. That's the best anyone can hope for, right? I think they've picked up on something stirring, something that's in their domain that they didn't invite. At least, that's my theory.
[ His gaze shifts to the board. How many times have they done this? He can't really remember. ]
I see you've definitely added a few things. [ He has to work to keep his voice level when he sees the new information added to the category concerning the red headed woman. That feeling of being incomplete increases, but he tries to ignore it. ]
Tim, I was wondering something.
[ It's been lurking in the back of Alan's mind, and seeing the other man brought it back to the forefront of his thoughts. ]
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[ He noted how Alan's demeanor changes even by the slightest. This Jesse means a hell of a lot to him. Sure, Alan hasn't said it directly, but he doesn't need to. Tim can tell by the infliction in his voice. The way he stands. The way his body seems to just sag on the spot sometimes. Yeah, she means a lot to him, and he misses her.
Tim only wonders if they met each other before all this. ]
Yeah, uh. Just notes from our adventure. Which, you probably don't remember. It might be for the best. [ The show was good, but, everything around it seemed to stress Alan out more. ] Yeah? What is it?
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[ Because Polaris and the Dark Presence are opposites, in a way. ]
I remember it, Tim. We were trying to find Door. I think I got us a little side-tracked on the way, though; sorry about that.
[ He'd look apologetic, but he's too busy eyeing his friend with a serious expression. ]
I just- it's going to sound crazy, and I'm sure you're not going to agree, but... [ How do I tell him I'm worried about him too without sounding like a complete moron? ]
I'm just worried about what's going to happen to you if you stay here too long.
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[ Tim hopes that it's the same woman he's been seeing. Well, figure of a woman anyways. He tries to hunt her down; see if she's someone stuck like they are. She always disappears when he gets close. The weird thing? Where she disappears seems to always be something helpful. If not for him then for Alan.
Then, his eyes widen. ] You remember? What else do you remember?
[ That's a good sign, right? Alan is able to remember more of what he's done and doing. Doesn't that mean whatever the writer is dealing with is being resolved? ]
Well. Lets hope I'm not here long enough to figure out. But, I can't leave till I figure out what's going on with Door. Why I've seen him all my life. Why he dragged me here... and why the hell he does a talk show for you.
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I'm pretty sure I'm seeing Jesse. Or... Jesse's friend. Her guide. [ Maybe she's guiding me too. ] I think she's trying to guide me to something too. It can't be a way out of here, because I haven't figured out how to write that. I have an idea, but I don't know if it'll even work.
I'm remembering more now: your crazy wall, your map... your search to find answers about Door and about this place. The talk show. I don't know if the fact that I can remember more means that things are getting... not better, but... maybe they're improving. Maybe.
I don't think Door is who you think he is. He's not a nice guy if you get in his way. Or on his bad side.
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Though, it'd explain a few things I've seen too. Guess now I know who it is. [ He nods. ] She's been showing me different places to hide. Stashes of stuff. I can see why her guide would help you. Me, though. Not sure on that.
[ The name Hedron being similar to the shapes he's seen hasn't skipped his notice either. Just, he figures it's not important to bring up to Alan. ]
I'd say getting better. Usually that's the case when you remember more things.
[ He chuckles. ] Oh. I don't think he's a nice guy at all. He brought me here to keep me from giving the FBI information. That and haunting me in my dreams? I'd say number one big asshole. Though, I'm pretty sure he put me on his bad side. I didn't ask for any of it.
[ He shrugs with his arms folded. ] What are you looking for this time?
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[ But just how much she can reach into the Dark Place, even Alan isn't sure of. The darkness is powerful, but so is Polaris. He just doesn't know which one is technically stronger. He'd probably say the darkness, but he's been in it so long that it just seems stronger than most everything. ]
I think... if I remember it right, Polaris resonates with light. She makes things brighter. And she's helpful, like you said. [ But how much of that comes from Jesse asking her guide for help with things? ] Maybe I'm wrong, but I think she wants to help, because it helps her too. At least, that's my theory.
[ Polaris doesn't think like people do. At least, Alan believes human characteristics don't apply to her. Maybe they don't apply to the Dark Presence either. What he thinks of as good and evil might look different to both entities. ]
Well, whatever he's up to and whatever he's doing, he can't do it forever. When you catch up to him, maybe you can give him a taste of his own medicine, however that ends up looking. Or maybe you just manage to escape this place.
As for what I'm looking for... I don't know. Ideas, maybe. Inspiration. Something to help with writing. [ He shrugs. Maybe he's not looking for anything. It's hard for him to say. ]
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This guide... isn't really the North Star. Is it?
[ Something tells him that falling into the information about that is just as complicated and large as the Dark Place. Though, it seems to be something Alan can handle. He doesn't seem bothered by Jesse's guide at all. ]
Resonates with the light. Huh. Not sure how she can do that when there's barely any here. I mean, other than the lamps on the walls. Televisions. Street lights. Neon signs. I wouldn't think ambient light would be enough.
[ And here he was thinking he was getting a handle on things.
Still, he grabs a pen, and adds "POLARIS" next to Hedron and Jesse's names. ]
What sort of inspiration for writing? I know you're always writing, but, dunno. Maybe I can help?
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But, in this case, yeah. Polaris is another name for the North Star, but she's not literally the North Star... a guiding star, sure. A helpful beacon, I guess. I wonder if you could sense her too. Sorry, I know that's a lot of wondering, Tim.
[ He pauses for a second. ]
About that... Sure, there's not much light around here, but- I don't know how to explain it. When Polaris is nearby, she- resonates with something inside me. Light, I think. Don't ask how that makes sense, but she can kind of connect with the ambient light inside me, if you want to call it that, and make it brighter.
Honestly? I'd take anything at this point. Anything that'll get the story to an ending. [ Because I want to go home. ]
I wish it was as simple as writing myself using a powerful weapon to destroy the Dark Presence, which ends the loops and lets everyone who's been dragged in go free. Including you. But I tried something like that once, I think, or maybe more than once, and it failed. I just don't know what to write, or how that ending has to look.
[ He scrubs his face with one hand, with a little force behind it, pointing to his frustration. ]
If you were the writer, what would you do, Tim?
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[ Tim is perceptive. He picked up parts of that concert. Jesse is in control of some group of people, and Alan somehow contacted her there. They had something of a working history before all this started at the '23 Deerfest. Hell, maybe it was even fated or something.
Which just makes him wonder even more as to why he has had dreams about her. ]
I'm seeing this Polaris around apparently. Not sure why she'd bother with me though. Maybe it's because helping me helps you? [ Tim shrugs. ] She resonates with light? So, like, making things brighter?
[ He feels he's missing a lot of context. A lot. That seems to just be his luck. Everything is over his head or he just doesn't have the info he needs to fully grasp the concepts. Supposedly he can find the answers here in this not New York City, but he's starting to wonder if even that's true.
Still. They're his problems. Alan has enough on his plate. ]
If I were a writer?
[ Tim looks back at the board. His crazy board. A frown is on his face. Well, he isn't a writer, so he isn't sure anything he can say would really help. Then again, Alan has been stuck in this place for thirteen years. Countless of those manuscript pages came to the surface of the Lake. Most of them never fit together in a coherent fashion.
He's quiet for a long moment as he turns different answers over in his head. Then, he looks back at Alan, half-turning to the missing writer. ]
I guess it starts off with questions. Sort of like an investigation.
[ He reaches up and flips the whiteboard over. He grabs the dry-erase pen from his pocket and begins writing. ]
First: what's the crime?, or in this case, what's the purpose of the story?
Second: where did the crime take place?, or, what's the genre and setting of the story?
Third: whose involved?
So, a few answers even I could tell you. Just based on all the times we've met and talked. "Purpose: get out of the Dark Place." "Genre and Setting:" well, I'm not sure your genre, but it obviously takes place Bright Falls. Given everything happening before I left.
"Who: Alan Wake, Agent Saga Anderson, Agent Alex Casey, Federal Bureau of Control, and Bright Falls citizens."
Sound right so far?
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Maybe I'm wrong, but Polaris seems opposed to the darkness, and the bad things that the darkness brings. Maybe anyone who's not working with the darkness is potentially useful to her, so she just reaches out. Or maybe she just likes you. [ He offers a half smile but it's his tone that sounds lighter and a little happier for just a second. ]
Making things brighter, making the darkness less... dark. Jesse could explain it all a lot better. That's probably another reason why you should meet her.
[ Alan just stands there quietly while Tim ponders his question. He watches the sheriff glancing back at the crazy board, watching and waiting as Tim processes the question and forms an answer.
Part of him thinks Tim wouldn't have gotten as lost in the darkness as he has. He'd think it through, looking for the different possibilities and angles and take what looks like the most straightforward one. He probably wouldn't have created so many loops and turns for himself. Not that it matters, as thinking in theoreticals doesn't change Alan's present reality. ]
Yeah, that all sounds right. The genre, though... is it my genre or the genre that the story wants? I'm not really a horror writer, you know? The story is a horror story but I wouldn't write it that way.
[ He pauses and rubs his forehead. ]
Maybe it needs to be a horror story in order for it to work, but... what if it didn't? It doesn't matter, because that's the story we have, but what if it was a thriller adventure story instead?
I don't know. There's no point in speculating about it, really. I just have to work with what I have.
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[ And he hopes he can find him before he starts going stir crazy. Well, crazier than he already is. ]
I doubt it's because she likes me. [ A smile is given in return. He's not sure how he feels about some weird alien ... light thing liking him. Probably better than Door hating him for whatever reason. Still, one thing at a time. Too much weird makes his brain feel like it might explode. That wouldn't be pretty. ] Makes the darkness less dark. Huh.
Horror would make sense given everything. Didn't you write crime noir books? [ He casts a glance back at Alan with eyebrows raised. ] I guess they are dark like horror. Maybe not as dark.
So... now we need to work on the information we know beyond the three questions. We'd call them clues, but, story beats for you. Right? I'm not a writer. [ He holds the magic eraser up for Alan to use. ] Tell me what you've got.
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[ He knows that Tim sees the Dark Place differently than he does; at least, it doesn't seem nearly so horrifying for the other man as it does for him. He doesn't really understand how it can be nightmarish for him and be completely different for Tim, but he doesn't want to even imagine what it'll be like if the Dark Presence ever turns on him and Tim finds himself in a hellish place like Alan's been for the last thirteen years. ][ And obviously, when Jesse is there too, but maybe not for the reasons anyone would think.
Alan smiles a little bit to himself at the thought of Jesse. ]
Crime books, yeah. Maybe they weren't dark enough. [ He shrugs. He knows that he thinks of his books as dime store fiction, or books people buy at airports and leave on the plane when they're done with them. They're not the kind of books that get read and then re-read. ]
Story beats. Clues. What I've got. [ Alan shakes his head, because what he has doesn't feel like much, and part of him wishes he had his plot board so he could show Tim what he has. ]
I don't think what I have is going to get me out of here. I thought the story had to be dark, to fit what the Dark Presence wants, but I don't see how that's supposed to end the story, fix the things that I made happen, and get me home.
[ Maybe there is no going home. ]