[It's been a weird day. Martin thinks it's probably the weirdest one he's ever had, except it's hard to confirm that when he can't remember specific days. Surely turning up in a strange hotel with no memory of how or why he was there, or much of anything really that came before, has to rank somewhere on that list, right?
Mostly, he steps into the diner to get out of the midday sun and have a little break, maybe something to drink, but when he's offered a slice of free pie, Martin settles into a booth to eat. It's actually really good. Good enough that the inclination to share is strong enough to make him gesture to someone nearby.]
Here, come and sit down. You've got to try this pie. It's really good.
2. Something's Coming
[He's on his way back from the general store at dusk when he thinks he sees something slipping silently through the shadows between two buildings, and it makes Martin go still as he watches to try to spot what it is. He isn't sure of much as he peers into the darkness, except it was big. Maybe a dog? Yeah, a dog. It's probably just a dog. Hopefully not a coyote, or if it is, hopefully not a mean, or hungry one.
Cursing himself silently, he picks up the pace for the hotel. He's learned very little about this place today, mostly that it's weird, and some of the townspeople just repeat the exact same handful of lines over and over again, and he's not the only one here who seems to be having problems remembering their lives before coming here aside from a few scattered details. He never should have been out at night. He should have known there was something dangerous lurking once the sun went down.
Something darts across the road in front of him, big, dark, with menacing looking spikes that run down the center of its back, and Martin breaks into a run. He's not much of a runner, but the hotel isn't far. Maybe he can make it. Glancing behind him as he runs past the alley the second shadow slipped down, he slams bodily into someone he hadn't noticed initially. He hasn't run far, but he already sounds out of breath.]
Sorry! Sorry! Just... there's something back there!
3. The Walls Have Eyes
[It feels like a bad dream at first, when Martin steps out of the shower, wraps a towel around himself and startles to see a pair of eyes staring at him embedded in the grain of wood in the door. He freezes, because, god, this is an embarrassing way to be spotted, and he's sure those eyes weren't there when he got in the shower. He would have noticed them, right?
He blinks, and shakes his head trying to clear them from his vision, then rubs a hand across his eyes to try to force them away.]
You're not real. You can't be real. Stop watching me.
[Best to ignore them, maybe. Forget that they look like they're judging him. That they know there's something he's done that was terribly wrong.
Except it gets worse as the day goes on. The same set of eyes appearing in cracks, on doors, on walls, even peering out at him between the grains of rice he has at dinner, and Martin has to keep looking around to see if anyone else is acting as though they see anything off as well. It's not as though he can just blurt it out to just anyone, right? What if someone thinks he's lost his mind.
He can't even bring himself to finish his meal, he just stares down at the sets of eyes blinking up at him.
He slides the plate across the table as he stands, and leaves to step outside. Some fresh air, yeah, that's all he needs.
Just outside the hotel, he leans against the wall next to the door and stares up at the sky that looks back down on him, and it's almost enough to make him want to cry. He doesn't think he can take it any more, so when he hears the door open, he doesn't even look to see who it is before speaking.]
You can see them too, right? The eyes? Tell me you can see them too.
Martin Blackwood | The Magnus Archives
[It's been a weird day. Martin thinks it's probably the weirdest one he's ever had, except it's hard to confirm that when he can't remember specific days. Surely turning up in a strange hotel with no memory of how or why he was there, or much of anything really that came before, has to rank somewhere on that list, right?
Mostly, he steps into the diner to get out of the midday sun and have a little break, maybe something to drink, but when he's offered a slice of free pie, Martin settles into a booth to eat. It's actually really good. Good enough that the inclination to share is strong enough to make him gesture to someone nearby.]
Here, come and sit down. You've got to try this pie. It's really good.
2. Something's Coming
[He's on his way back from the general store at dusk when he thinks he sees something slipping silently through the shadows between two buildings, and it makes Martin go still as he watches to try to spot what it is. He isn't sure of much as he peers into the darkness, except it was big. Maybe a dog? Yeah, a dog. It's probably just a dog. Hopefully not a coyote, or if it is, hopefully not a mean, or hungry one.
Cursing himself silently, he picks up the pace for the hotel. He's learned very little about this place today, mostly that it's weird, and some of the townspeople just repeat the exact same handful of lines over and over again, and he's not the only one here who seems to be having problems remembering their lives before coming here aside from a few scattered details. He never should have been out at night. He should have known there was something dangerous lurking once the sun went down.
Something darts across the road in front of him, big, dark, with menacing looking spikes that run down the center of its back, and Martin breaks into a run. He's not much of a runner, but the hotel isn't far. Maybe he can make it. Glancing behind him as he runs past the alley the second shadow slipped down, he slams bodily into someone he hadn't noticed initially. He hasn't run far, but he already sounds out of breath.]
Sorry! Sorry! Just... there's something back there!
3. The Walls Have Eyes
[It feels like a bad dream at first, when Martin steps out of the shower, wraps a towel around himself and startles to see a pair of eyes staring at him embedded in the grain of wood in the door. He freezes, because, god, this is an embarrassing way to be spotted, and he's sure those eyes weren't there when he got in the shower. He would have noticed them, right?
He blinks, and shakes his head trying to clear them from his vision, then rubs a hand across his eyes to try to force them away.]
You're not real. You can't be real. Stop watching me.
[Best to ignore them, maybe. Forget that they look like they're judging him. That they know there's something he's done that was terribly wrong.
Except it gets worse as the day goes on. The same set of eyes appearing in cracks, on doors, on walls, even peering out at him between the grains of rice he has at dinner, and Martin has to keep looking around to see if anyone else is acting as though they see anything off as well. It's not as though he can just blurt it out to just anyone, right? What if someone thinks he's lost his mind.
He can't even bring himself to finish his meal, he just stares down at the sets of eyes blinking up at him.
He slides the plate across the table as he stands, and leaves to step outside. Some fresh air, yeah, that's all he needs.
Just outside the hotel, he leans against the wall next to the door and stares up at the sky that looks back down on him, and it's almost enough to make him want to cry. He doesn't think he can take it any more, so when he hears the door open, he doesn't even look to see who it is before speaking.]
You can see them too, right? The eyes? Tell me you can see them too.