Heather Mason (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foolishwren) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
victory_road2016-08-23 08:04 am
foolishwren) wrote in victory_road2016-08-23 08:04 am
002. [Video / Action for Ecruteak City] (backdated to the 19th!)
[It's the nineteenth, and the sun's not even up yet.]
[Not that that's particularly mattered to the network at large, considering both pleas for help and thoughtful rumination on how to get rid of the disguised ghosts have been zipping back and forth across cyperspace like busy little Combees nonstop. It's hard for anybody to sleep when a dead person has been standing awkwardly at the foot of your bed for several nights straight, so it's safe to say that nighttime posting's picked up quite a lot.]
[But it's that dark, gray-blue hour before dawn and most of the ghosts, by now, are gone. Nobody in their right mind is probably up right now to check what haunted nightowls are hollering into the void.]
[WHICH MEANS, IT'S TOTALLY THE PERFECT TIME FOR SOMEONE WHO'S BEEN STRAIGHT-UP AVOIDING EVERYBODY FOR THE WHOLE WEEK TO POST A VIDEO!]
[A darkened hotel room is the setting, and Heather Mason is the subject. The harsh blue-white glow of a 'Gear screen is hardly a flattering light-source, and the glaring shadows cast under her eyes make it obvious she hasn't been doing much sleeping. But well, this video ain't no makeup tutorial, so she doesn't care a whole lot about the fact that she's kind of a mess.]
[Once she's sure the 'Gear is on, she sets it down on some surface where it can show both her and a portion of the rest of the room, which houses three other figures: two little fox Pokemon on the bed, a Vulpix and an Eevee (who anyone that did much chatting with Heather during the festival will recognize as Cheryl), and an alarming specter by the curtains; A gaunt, severe woman in a plain dark dress, with hair so pale that it almost glows as it spills over her shoulders.]
[It's time to begin.]
[Heather gives the camera a tight smile, raising her hand in a stiff, to-the-point greeting.]
Heeeey, everybody.
Heather here. I honestly don't post a whole lot these days, sooo for those of you who don't already know me... I guess you're about to get one of the most awkward first impressions ever. Congratulations.
Anyway, I've been, uh. Spending some time with my ghost buddy here... [A clear nod, indicating the frankly spooky woman behind her.] ... and we've been having a great time. Lots of screaming and crying on my part, for one thing, always fun, and there was definitely at least one broken appliance I'm gonna have to pay for when I check out of this room. And hey-- you wanna know the part that makes this a real good ghost story? That woman behind me-- she's a murderer. A genuine, bona fide killer. And my dad, the best person to ever enter my life, before or since, was one of her victims. Maybe her first. The last? Was gonna be me.
Crazy, right? Right out of a slasher flick, me and her. What a pair.
But I'm not actually taping myself right now to talk about that.
The reason I'm posting this is kind of... no, really self-indulgent, and it's probably not even going to be interesting to seventy-five percent of you, but... I don't know. Maybe someone out there needs to hear it.
So, here goes.
[She clears her throat, drumming a fist on her collarbone briefly.]
Anyone who knows me, knows I've got one hell of a temper. Always been that way, always will be. We're talking, one day I'll be lowered into my grave and a thousand years later archaeologists will dig me up and open the coffin and immediately get punched in the nose by my skeleton. I'm not ashamed of that. My anger's what keeps me going, sometimes.
[Her tone is light, almost jovial... but then it goes serious in the blink of an eye.]
But only one or two of you were around when the woman behind me came to Johto, for real, in the flesh. For the rest of you, I won't be cryptic about it.
I hunted her down.
[Behind Heather, the Vulpix's dark eyes gleam in the low light as it turns its head to the camera, ears flattened and several tails curling in enmity. The Eevee lets out a quiet chirp, leaning forward to groom at the tuft of fur atop the other fox's head and calm her.]
What happened was... I won't say it wasn't important. But it's not what I wanted to talk about, either. This isn't Heather Mason's Fun Happy Murder Hour. I'll mention the part where I couldn't do it, I guess. I don't feel like that absolves me of much, but I know stuff like that matters to some people, and technically, I suppose that's something that separates me and her.
But the point... the point is...
[Man, she really should have written an outline or something. The words are there, she wants to say them. But after so many sleepless nights, it's kind of hard to find a way to get into it without a big meandering ramblefest first. She shakes her head a little, waving a hand for the camera.]
If there's one message I don't want anybody watching this to take away from it, it's that grownass adults shouldn't take responsibility for the shitty, cruel things they do. Hell, no. It doesn't matter what your sob story is, you gotta own it when you're responsible for somebody else hurting.
No exceptions, that's fuckin' life. You suck it up and deal with that, or you wind up going under.
But here's the thing, okay?
You can't choose where you come from, and if it's a bad place, not everyone gets to leave. Especially if everything in the whole fucking world seems dedicated to keeping you there.
I mean, fuck, we're talking about kids, for crying out loud.
[She's talking fast now, gesturing for emphasis and compensating for the way her voice is getting tighter by just forcing the words to come out quicker.]
Life isn't a Boxcar Children novel, a seven year old can't just pack a suitcase and hop the next train when every single figure of authority they've ever known wants them to stay exactly where they are, to do and think what they're told and nothing else. Even if the things they're being told are the sickest, most horrifying shit you could ever imagine. Things that made a grown man give up everything he ever had and spend the rest of his god-given life always on the run, never resting, to make sure the little kid he took out of there would never have to go back.
Places like that exist, and when they're the place you're born, you'd better fucking pray that someone like that man reaches in from the outside and helps you get out, because if you don't get out early, let me tell you, bud, you're never getting out.
[She stops abruptly there, catching her breath, before pointing a quivering hand over her shoulder at the woman, even as her gaze is still locked onto the camera, dead-set.]
She... never got out.
[Oh boy. Here come the tears. Heather swipes a rough hand over her eyes, laughing. It's kind of a pathetic, watery laugh, but she'd rather do that than do a bunch of gross boo-hooing on-camera.]
Haha, fuck. Look at me.
That's actually why I went after her here, in this place. Not because of what she did to my dad, or even what she did to me... but because I just couldn't-- couldn't listen to her cling to all that bullshit, I couldn't stand hearing her justify what she did, and have the nerve to call me a liar for trying to tell her the truth about that place, about... those people.
It made me so fucking angry, at her for being too freaking blind to see it, and...
... And at.. and at me, for getting out.
For getting out and not taking her with me.
[And then she's quiet for a moment, turning her eyes away from the camera slightly and blinking a whole lot, swiping a hand under her nose with an ugly sniff. The only sounds are the hum of the hotel room's AC unit. The ghostly woman in the background remains silent, even though her expression had gone from stoic to one of immense sadness. Because holy shit, the Misdreavus behind this illusion had not signed up for issues this messed-up, dog.]
[Heather's voice is thick when she speaks up again.]
... Thing is, that's fucking stupid... how can a little kid who can barely escape something with her own life possibly save another? How could I have possibly done that, when all I could do was literally run like the hounds of hell were after me?
How?
And how could that kid know anything other than getting fucking beaten like a dog whenever she stepped out of line? How, when they wouldn't let her know anything else? When they told her the rest of the world was nothing but filth and that the only way to save it was to purge it with fire? She was... a baby! She was still drawing little smiley faces on the sun in red crayon when they were trying to snuff that out and drown it in their fanatical bullshit!
How the... how the fuck did either of us even have a chance to turn out okay? How was it fair?! We were just kids!
[Another pause, another heavy swipe across the eyes.]
Okay, okay... I've been just... barfing words at nobody for like twenty minutes, this's just getting embarrassing now.
If anyone's even made it this far without being like 'holy shit, this chick is a basket case' and changing to someone else's channel, you deserve a trophy or something.
I'll just finish by saying, if anyone out there... if any of you were in a bad place as a kid, if any of you had to get out for your own good... it wasn't your fault, okay?
Even if there were others who weren't as lucky, who you couldn't take with you because literally all you could do was run.
And if you were one of the ones who couldn't, and... and you still have a hard time, letting go of it all, or even believing that the people who did all those things to you were wrong?
That's not your fault, either.
[Throughout her talk, the sky through the window's been lightening behind her, and a tiny sliver of sun is just starting to poke out over the dark rooftops beyond. Heather doesn't notice. Her smile is strained, but she doesn't let it break.]
Please believe that. Please.
It's not your fault.
[The white glow of the encroaching sunrise fades out most of the scene there-- but in the final frames of the broadcast, the ghost of Claudia Wolf visibly fades out, and the little Eevee's silhouette in the background takes on the color of the sun and begins to grow.]
[The feed ends there.]
[OOC: For CR still in Ecruteak who know which inn room Heather is in, they can find her snuggling her Brand New Espeon(tm)! and being really weird and emotional about childhood friends. Also, THIS GOT REALLY LONG I'M SO SORRY.]
[Not that that's particularly mattered to the network at large, considering both pleas for help and thoughtful rumination on how to get rid of the disguised ghosts have been zipping back and forth across cyperspace like busy little Combees nonstop. It's hard for anybody to sleep when a dead person has been standing awkwardly at the foot of your bed for several nights straight, so it's safe to say that nighttime posting's picked up quite a lot.]
[But it's that dark, gray-blue hour before dawn and most of the ghosts, by now, are gone. Nobody in their right mind is probably up right now to check what haunted nightowls are hollering into the void.]
[WHICH MEANS, IT'S TOTALLY THE PERFECT TIME FOR SOMEONE WHO'S BEEN STRAIGHT-UP AVOIDING EVERYBODY FOR THE WHOLE WEEK TO POST A VIDEO!]
[A darkened hotel room is the setting, and Heather Mason is the subject. The harsh blue-white glow of a 'Gear screen is hardly a flattering light-source, and the glaring shadows cast under her eyes make it obvious she hasn't been doing much sleeping. But well, this video ain't no makeup tutorial, so she doesn't care a whole lot about the fact that she's kind of a mess.]
[Once she's sure the 'Gear is on, she sets it down on some surface where it can show both her and a portion of the rest of the room, which houses three other figures: two little fox Pokemon on the bed, a Vulpix and an Eevee (who anyone that did much chatting with Heather during the festival will recognize as Cheryl), and an alarming specter by the curtains; A gaunt, severe woman in a plain dark dress, with hair so pale that it almost glows as it spills over her shoulders.]
[It's time to begin.]
[Heather gives the camera a tight smile, raising her hand in a stiff, to-the-point greeting.]
Heeeey, everybody.
Heather here. I honestly don't post a whole lot these days, sooo for those of you who don't already know me... I guess you're about to get one of the most awkward first impressions ever. Congratulations.
Anyway, I've been, uh. Spending some time with my ghost buddy here... [A clear nod, indicating the frankly spooky woman behind her.] ... and we've been having a great time. Lots of screaming and crying on my part, for one thing, always fun, and there was definitely at least one broken appliance I'm gonna have to pay for when I check out of this room. And hey-- you wanna know the part that makes this a real good ghost story? That woman behind me-- she's a murderer. A genuine, bona fide killer. And my dad, the best person to ever enter my life, before or since, was one of her victims. Maybe her first. The last? Was gonna be me.
Crazy, right? Right out of a slasher flick, me and her. What a pair.
But I'm not actually taping myself right now to talk about that.
The reason I'm posting this is kind of... no, really self-indulgent, and it's probably not even going to be interesting to seventy-five percent of you, but... I don't know. Maybe someone out there needs to hear it.
So, here goes.
[She clears her throat, drumming a fist on her collarbone briefly.]
Anyone who knows me, knows I've got one hell of a temper. Always been that way, always will be. We're talking, one day I'll be lowered into my grave and a thousand years later archaeologists will dig me up and open the coffin and immediately get punched in the nose by my skeleton. I'm not ashamed of that. My anger's what keeps me going, sometimes.
[Her tone is light, almost jovial... but then it goes serious in the blink of an eye.]
But only one or two of you were around when the woman behind me came to Johto, for real, in the flesh. For the rest of you, I won't be cryptic about it.
I hunted her down.
[Behind Heather, the Vulpix's dark eyes gleam in the low light as it turns its head to the camera, ears flattened and several tails curling in enmity. The Eevee lets out a quiet chirp, leaning forward to groom at the tuft of fur atop the other fox's head and calm her.]
What happened was... I won't say it wasn't important. But it's not what I wanted to talk about, either. This isn't Heather Mason's Fun Happy Murder Hour. I'll mention the part where I couldn't do it, I guess. I don't feel like that absolves me of much, but I know stuff like that matters to some people, and technically, I suppose that's something that separates me and her.
But the point... the point is...
[Man, she really should have written an outline or something. The words are there, she wants to say them. But after so many sleepless nights, it's kind of hard to find a way to get into it without a big meandering ramblefest first. She shakes her head a little, waving a hand for the camera.]
If there's one message I don't want anybody watching this to take away from it, it's that grownass adults shouldn't take responsibility for the shitty, cruel things they do. Hell, no. It doesn't matter what your sob story is, you gotta own it when you're responsible for somebody else hurting.
No exceptions, that's fuckin' life. You suck it up and deal with that, or you wind up going under.
But here's the thing, okay?
You can't choose where you come from, and if it's a bad place, not everyone gets to leave. Especially if everything in the whole fucking world seems dedicated to keeping you there.
I mean, fuck, we're talking about kids, for crying out loud.
[She's talking fast now, gesturing for emphasis and compensating for the way her voice is getting tighter by just forcing the words to come out quicker.]
Life isn't a Boxcar Children novel, a seven year old can't just pack a suitcase and hop the next train when every single figure of authority they've ever known wants them to stay exactly where they are, to do and think what they're told and nothing else. Even if the things they're being told are the sickest, most horrifying shit you could ever imagine. Things that made a grown man give up everything he ever had and spend the rest of his god-given life always on the run, never resting, to make sure the little kid he took out of there would never have to go back.
Places like that exist, and when they're the place you're born, you'd better fucking pray that someone like that man reaches in from the outside and helps you get out, because if you don't get out early, let me tell you, bud, you're never getting out.
[She stops abruptly there, catching her breath, before pointing a quivering hand over her shoulder at the woman, even as her gaze is still locked onto the camera, dead-set.]
She... never got out.
[Oh boy. Here come the tears. Heather swipes a rough hand over her eyes, laughing. It's kind of a pathetic, watery laugh, but she'd rather do that than do a bunch of gross boo-hooing on-camera.]
Haha, fuck. Look at me.
That's actually why I went after her here, in this place. Not because of what she did to my dad, or even what she did to me... but because I just couldn't-- couldn't listen to her cling to all that bullshit, I couldn't stand hearing her justify what she did, and have the nerve to call me a liar for trying to tell her the truth about that place, about... those people.
It made me so fucking angry, at her for being too freaking blind to see it, and...
... And at.. and at me, for getting out.
For getting out and not taking her with me.
[And then she's quiet for a moment, turning her eyes away from the camera slightly and blinking a whole lot, swiping a hand under her nose with an ugly sniff. The only sounds are the hum of the hotel room's AC unit. The ghostly woman in the background remains silent, even though her expression had gone from stoic to one of immense sadness. Because holy shit, the Misdreavus behind this illusion had not signed up for issues this messed-up, dog.]
[Heather's voice is thick when she speaks up again.]
... Thing is, that's fucking stupid... how can a little kid who can barely escape something with her own life possibly save another? How could I have possibly done that, when all I could do was literally run like the hounds of hell were after me?
How?
And how could that kid know anything other than getting fucking beaten like a dog whenever she stepped out of line? How, when they wouldn't let her know anything else? When they told her the rest of the world was nothing but filth and that the only way to save it was to purge it with fire? She was... a baby! She was still drawing little smiley faces on the sun in red crayon when they were trying to snuff that out and drown it in their fanatical bullshit!
How the... how the fuck did either of us even have a chance to turn out okay? How was it fair?! We were just kids!
[Another pause, another heavy swipe across the eyes.]
Okay, okay... I've been just... barfing words at nobody for like twenty minutes, this's just getting embarrassing now.
If anyone's even made it this far without being like 'holy shit, this chick is a basket case' and changing to someone else's channel, you deserve a trophy or something.
I'll just finish by saying, if anyone out there... if any of you were in a bad place as a kid, if any of you had to get out for your own good... it wasn't your fault, okay?
Even if there were others who weren't as lucky, who you couldn't take with you because literally all you could do was run.
And if you were one of the ones who couldn't, and... and you still have a hard time, letting go of it all, or even believing that the people who did all those things to you were wrong?
That's not your fault, either.
[Throughout her talk, the sky through the window's been lightening behind her, and a tiny sliver of sun is just starting to poke out over the dark rooftops beyond. Heather doesn't notice. Her smile is strained, but she doesn't let it break.]
Please believe that. Please.
It's not your fault.
[The white glow of the encroaching sunrise fades out most of the scene there-- but in the final frames of the broadcast, the ghost of Claudia Wolf visibly fades out, and the little Eevee's silhouette in the background takes on the color of the sun and begins to grow.]
[The feed ends there.]
[OOC: For CR still in Ecruteak who know which inn room Heather is in, they can find her snuggling her Brand New Espeon(tm)! and being really weird and emotional about childhood friends. Also, THIS GOT REALLY LONG I'M SO SORRY.]
[Text]
I know that video was probably the WORST possible first impression to deliver to anybody PERIOD, but despite all that embarrassing voice-cracking I've been taking it one day at a time for almost seven years
I'm pretty good at it by now :P
[Text]
But I'm glad you're doing alright.
Hopefully the rest of us can follow your lead. I have a feeling a lot of people are still stumbling.
[Including himself.]
[Text]
If nothing else, this place is great for doing just that
I mean hey, we get free therapy animals
You won't find a bargain like that anywhere else, guaranteed
[Text]
It is kind of nice having constant companions.
Even if they can be a little strange sometimes.
[Text]
but I wouldn't trade em for anything
[Text]
But the living bags of garbage are pretty weird.
I'm starting to feel that way myself.
[Text]
Re: [Text]
I've been doing my best to avoid them completely. </span>