[open] same stuff, different hell

[lightschampion]

Who: Alan Wake & OTA
What: Moving into a cabin, getting some much needed r&r
When: Early September
Where: 24 Basin Overlook, Hot Springs


[A - Moving In]

[By now, Alan had for the most part gone through his initiation of this strange new world he found himself in. So unlike the Dark Place aside from its otherness. ...and aside from some familiar faces (in one case, extremely unwanted). He'd been born and raised in New York City, and while it'd had its fair share of rough winters, it was incomparable to this frozen wasteland. If he'd felt a fish out of water in Bright Falls, he was one on an entirely new planet here. Still, he knew the only thing he could do was press forward and survive. The name of the game for over a decade. Just another setting change, he told himself.

Considering the climate, shelter was on the very top of the list. He'd spent the first night in the Community Hall while he got his bearings, but it wasn't a place he cared to make a permanent residence. Too crowded; he needed his own space. And so he'd set out to find a place to claim as his own.

Which leads him now to an abandoned cabin he'd wandered in down one of Milton's streets. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, but sturdy enough, he decides. Anything is better than outdoors, and hell if he's going to be sleeping in a cave.

The door to the cabin, for now, remains open as he attempts to clean the place up. Bring out broken furniture and try to break them down for firewood with a hatchet he'd found inside. Sweep the dirt and debris out. Try to clean the dirty windows with a wet piece of cloth. It's a bit more physical labor than he's been used to lately, maybe a bit much for one person.

It's not the shittiest place he'd ever lived in, at least, he thinks.]




[B - Hot Springs]

[Alan Wake needed a fucking break from it all.

Between the last thirteen years of never ending loops of death and insanity and the fact that he was now trapped in yet another hellhole, all he wanted was for something to go right. A little comfort. A little treat. God knows he'd kill for a bottle of whiskey or three, but he'd yet to find any.

What he did find, however, was something a little better(?). While scavenging for supplies and trying to get a lay of the land, Alan had stumbled across a cave that seemed a bit different from the others. Instead of ice, there was flowing water. Most importantly, it was warm. Upon following it, the writer eventually found himself outdoors again, but standing before several pools of water with steam rising up from them.

He'd never been to a natural hot spring before, but he knew one when he saw one.

After some thought, he decides he may as well enjoy this stroke of luck, especially while no one's around. He doesn't doubt that others have discovered a place like this by now, a little pocket of luxury in the wasteland. And so he strips off his clothing, setting it aside where it's in no danger of getting wet, and makes his way into one of the pools.

"Fuck," he eloquently states as he lets himself sink up to his chest in the hot waters. Warmth was a rare indulgence, even back in the Dark Place. It's going to be difficult to peel himself out of here, he knows it, but for now he's sure as hell going to enjoy it. Alan rests his head back against a rock at the edge of the pool, closing his eyes and letting out a content sigh.]




((ooc: If you want to use another format, I'll match it!))

Comments

[lightschampion]

Yes, I'm aware, but...

[Hell. Way to make a guy feel guilty, even if it's something Alan's already been swimming in.]

There's nothing to create here. I don't have my typewriter, you don't have your camera. And since this isn't the Dark Place, I don't think manuscripts and film reels would be good for anything more than tinder.

...but if you really have nowhere else to stay...

[Even as he says that, he knows that it's silly; there's plenty of other places for Zane to stay. Plenty of other empty cabins like the one here and now that they're standing in. But here he is anyway, of course.]

[sukeltaja]

[ What Alan is saying makes him freeze, concern flickering over features. Genuine, complete concern. Fish forgotten, knife he'd been picking up being set down, he crosses easily to the other, brows furrowed. ]

Alan...

[ There's something there. Pity. Disappointment. Worry. ]

Why would you say such a thing? Why would you tell me that?

[lightschampion]

...Because?

[Alan isn't quite sure the effect his words had on him; did he dangle away the idea of a new artistic collaboration from him like a toy? Had Zane not considered the practicality of it? Or something else?

He leaves the question (or rather, word) dangling, wanting to hear some further explanation.]

[sukeltaja]

Because!

[ He crosses the gap entirely, gaze imploring, searching for some sort of answer written on Alan's face. ]

Have you forgotten what it's like to make something just for the satisfaction of doing so? Without an audience? Just for you? Oh, Alan...

[ He'll reach a hand up to cup the other's face if allowed, shaking his head. ]

You're an artist. You create. it's in your blood, it's in our veins! That's not useless. Making something just to make it is not useless. To survive you need more than fish and warm clothes, you need sanity. You need wholeness. The tinder isn't for the hearth, it's for your heart.

[lightschampion]

[That's the thing. Alan has forgotten. When was the last time he created something just for the pure sake of creation? The first, perhaps the second Alex Casey book? Since then, it'd just been expected; an obligation to his readers, an obligation to the overpriced rent on the penthouse he and Alice Shared. And then, merely a means to an end as he desperately tried to claw his way out of the Dark Place.

To write simply because he wanted to... It feels like another lifetime.

He doesn't swat Zane's hand away, but is quiet for a period as he just looks him over. A man far more entrenched in art than Alan ever could be, probably ever wanted to be.]

If that's the case, it'll still have to wait until I make sure I'm not going to freeze or starve to death. But I still wouldn't expect much from me.

[sukeltaja]

[ Zane clicks his tongue, a soft sort of sound despite the staccato action. One hand slides to Alan's shoulder, squeezing it, and the other hand on his face moves to his chin, lifting and guiding the other so he has no choice but to properly look at him whether he wants to or not. ]

Not me. You. Don't write for anyone else but you. But write, Alan. Write.

[lightschampion]

[Zane makes it sound so easy. And maybe, in some shape and form, it is. But he'd had crippling writer's block before Bright Falls, and then in the Dark Place, he couldn't do anything but write. In some way, it was for himself. For his own purposes, his own escape.

But not for the pure act of creation. Not for the joy he used to feel setting pen to paper, or pulling a finished page out of his typewriter. Constructions all his own (well...maybe not entirely his own, considering the "situation" with a certain Alex Casey) that he was eager to pull out of his mind and present to the world.

It was a luxury he couldn't afford, and even if he could, he wasn't even sure if he was capable of it anymore.]

...Survival here comes first. And keeping a certain mutual friend of ours from causing too much havoc. After that...we'll see.

[But he knows even that's just an empty promise.]

[sukeltaja]

[ Alan's twisting himself up. Zane can tell, even as he acquiesces and ends this particular part of the conversation. Alan's making it harder on himself than it needs to be, and Tom makes a mental note to start the ticking clock.

How soon until Alan makes it everyone else's problem? How soon does everything bottled up get released? How soon until Alan realizes that until he embraces every side of him, including his creativity, he'll come crashing down like a house of cards?

It's not Zane's place to tell him outright. He has to figure it out for himself. Tom's sigh is heavy and burdened as he withdraws, withdrawing to the kitchen and rattling very loudly in an attempt to find a knife, tone casual. Back to the usual, then! ]

You're keeping an eye on him?

[lightschampion]

[Repression is something Alan is certainly good at, until he isn't.. His troubles. His feelings. What's written into his very being.

Alice--]

I don't really have a choice but to. Unfortunately, when it comes down to it, he's my responsibility. And that's besides the simple fact that I don't want someone with my face running around causing chaos and getting me blamed for it.

[sukeltaja]

You've got a good head on those handsome shoulders.

[ Tom is planning on doing absolutely nothing about it, personally, considering he's also a man with Alan's face who will probably run around and cause chaos in the near future.

He works like it's second nature, old lessons learned bubbling up to the surface as he de-guts and de-bones what he's caught, all in Alan's kitchen sink. ]

Would it be helpful to draw that distinction for everyone? The notice board is a fantastic collage, by the way. Truly inspirational.

[lightschampion]

It's one of the only things I've got, and even that's debatable sometimes.

[Alan absently watches as Tom prepares the fish; not something he'd often seen before. He usually just got them prepackaged from the grocery store in the past.]

Notice board? What, am I supposed to pin up a piece of paper going "Hey everyone, real Alan Wake here, the one you know is my evil doppelganger so stay away from him, also there's another guy who looks strangely like me"?

[sukeltaja]

Yes.

[ he says it simply, barely looking up from what he's doing. There we go, Alan: another straight answer from Zane. Two for two. ]

[lightschampion]

I'm sure that's going to work amazingly.

[He shakes his head. If only things could be that easy, but they never were, were they?]

[sukeltaja]

[ Tom's quiet for a few moments, retreating somewhere--in his head, maybe, or somewhere else, it's hard to tell. But eventually, he speaks again. ]

I'll help. We're in this together, man. You and I.

[ A formal alliance. He glances up, look as pointed as his words despite his soft smile. ]

He's not the Scratch I'm worried about.

[lightschampion]

A team up, huh?

[Because that went amazingly in the end before. Then again, Alan's memory of what happened is still fuzzy, swept up in a swirl of desperation and confusion, anger and despair.]

Are you talking about the Scratch he becomes?

[sukeltaja]

[ It's too early. This isn't right. It's not the correct time. Mr. Scratch is a puzzle Alan has to put together himself, piece by piece, to further his ascension. Tom huffs, though it's to himself--he has to really be on the ball if this is going to work. No mishaps. Just a smooth sailing for Alan Wake, gliding through the Sea of Night back to the world he longs for so very much. ]

You should get that fire stoked. I haven't made anything in years, and I'd really like my first bite to be with you.

[lightschampion]

[Evading the question. Lovely. Zane clearly knows more than he's willing to divulge, but getting the truth out of him is a whole different story. Alan's gut feeling tells him that Zane wouldn't outright lie to him. Even with that, he doubts he'll ever get the full story.

Just enough to "guide" him. Whether said guiding is manipulation towards a purpose Alan's yet to decipher, he isn't sure.

For now, he just shrugs, turning his attention towards the fire. It should, hopefully, be at a decent enough state for properly cooking the fish.]

I'm touched.

[sukeltaja]

You're overthinking again.

[ Tom's voice is calm and casual, barely even looking at the other. ]

Remember the waves?

[lightschampion]

Aren't I always?

[Alan couldn't shut his mind off if he tried. And god, he's tried.]

What waves exactly?

[sukeltaja]

[ Tom sighs. There's a weight to it, and when he does look over at Alan, that weight focuses itself onto the other. ]

The waves of creation, man. The ebb and flow of artistry. What you need to do is relax, party, take your mind away from all of those troubles you have! You'll feel better.

[ He doesn't mind that he's talking in circles. If Alan needs to hear it again, he'll happily supply his voice. He gestures with both arms, flinging them wide. ]

Look at this place! You've got a roof over your head, some fish. Breathe, Alan. You're not in the dark anymore.

[lightschampion]

Maybe I'm not in the dark, but I'm in the cold. A jail cell is a jail cell, even if the prison's changed.

[A pause, and he glances briefly, wearily out the window at the cabin across the street.]

And one of the wardens is still the same.

[Partially Alan's fault for being stubborn enough to want to stay in this cabin, but no matter how far he tried to get, he knew Scratch would still inevitably seek him out.]

Relaxing isn't as easy as it is for you, and I stopped partying a long time ago.

[sukeltaja]

There's not much else to do here.

[ Zane is not giving up, it seems. ]

Just think about it. Like with your writing.