eidetiker: (Default)
Do the dead dream?

Will's memory palace no longer looks like the Jacobi house. Sometime long ago it became an empty hallway with no visible source of light and cells opening off the sides -- some barred, some glassed in, some with steel garage doors.

Will doesn't feel like walking down the hallway tonight. Every door leads to a different Chainsaw's dungeon. He knows already. He doesn't have to look.

eidetiker: (Brooding)
[ooc: Explicit sex and torture ahoy! Is anyone surprised?]

Will's double is still merged with Bruce Banner. The girls are still dealing with the gamma radiation.

Sylar is . . . who the hell knows what Sylar's doing. Will delivered him to Eights and washed his hands of the business. He may have been sympathetic to the plight of being kidnapped and tortured by Chainsaw, but the torturer warped his memories. It's hard for him to think of him too kindly, or care much for how he is.

Time moves on, will you or no, and some things change and some things don't.

Bar's coffee, for example, is always excellent.
eidetiker: (Sidelong glance)
SitD/Tinygame!Will and Volition!Chainsaw, "Nothing Left" era.

Continued from a great deal of Google Talk logging. Summary: Almost immediately after Will's contract with Sylar, Sylar was dumb enough to get in a control challenge with Chainsaw, which leads, predictably, to Chainsaw taking Sylar home and doing a lot of really awful shit to him. (Holy Christ warning on that thread.)

When Chainsaw finally got tired of Sylar and shoved him back into MM!Milliways, Will happened to be there to provide a mercy torch.

At that point we go to the GTalk log, wherein Chainsaw shows up, Will offers to do whatever Chainsaw would like to keep him from hurting Sylar again, and they both go back to Will's place in Downside. They talk about the differences between their respective universes for almost five hours (the great thing about IM RP is that it's more or less in real time) before finally reaching this:

Log )
eidetiker: (Brooding)
[livejournal.com profile] tiny_tartarus info:

Downside!Will's backstory is an epic work-in-progress called "Shot In the Dark," which is probably only funny to me. >.> Part one is here; part two, still in progress, is here.

For the purposes of tinygame, a couple things should be known.

1. Although SitD technically takes place after Will and Eight-Hour met in [livejournal.com profile] mixed_muses!Milliways, it works better for tinygame if they met while Eights was on vacation in one of the seventy-three connecting liveling worlds. They talked; Eights told him some things she technically shouldn't have; Will kept it to himself. Nothing else pre-fic needs to change.

2. The beginning of the fic takes place 6-8 months before tinygame's current time. What's been written so far only covers that first month-and-a-bit. So here's a preview of what's coming/been happening!

Over the next couple months, Chainsaw and Jasmine continued to kidnap Will every couple weeks and torture (and/or fuck, in Chainsaw's case) the shit out of him, partly because Will is a fun victim, but mostly because it seriously fucked with Eight-Hour's head. It didn't take him long to pick up on the ulterior motive -- at which point he told Eights to stop rescuing him and distance herself from him. Taking care of him showed Chainsaw and Jazz that Will is a weak spot, and reacting to them poking it gave them what they wanted.

Eights was none too happy about Will's suggestion that they avoid each other, and made it known. Loudly. A lot.

Eventually, though, Will talked her into it (most likely simply by saying that he was going to refuse to associate with her whether she liked it or not). The two avoid each other for the next four or five months. Will more or less drops out of sight for a while. Jasmine loses interest when Eights stops reacting and moves on, confident that she can always pick Will up again if she really wants a good session; Chainsaw's sessions also taper off slightly, although he enjoys torturing Will for his own merits a little more than Jasmine did, and therefore doesn't give up entirely.

So things stand when Will makes his first post to tinygame. :D

Events of tinygame may or may not affect the course of SitD, but they'll almost certainly inspire sections of it one way or another!
eidetiker: (the past was real)
[ooc: WARNING for graphic torture. Probably no sex in this one, though.]

Will's out of coffee.

Breakfast -- toast with butter and jam, eaten over the sink -- just isn't the same without it.
eidetiker: (Brooding)
(Do you dream much, Will?)

Will doesn't dream much, no -- no more than anyone, he thinks. When he does, they tend to be vividly detailed at the time and then misty in the morning.

Tonight, with the photographs of the murder scene strewn over the floor of his room, intermingled with notes on yellow legal pads, he's dreaming

of the Jacobi's house in Birmingham, clean and sterile of any evidence of the Dragon's transformation. He wanders through the hallways and peers into the rooms. Impalpable statues are on pedestals in some of them.

(Lecter might recognize the statues the layout of the house, the architecture. This could be a wing of Graham's memory palace, furnished with mnemonics and decorated with patterns of ideas, like neural pathways.)

A snake lies dead in the corner of one room, its back broken. Will ignores it. His footsteps are silent against the carpeting.

Outside, the trees are budding with sticky spring leaves.
eidetiker: (Brooding)
Will has been having trouble sleeping. The constant tension of watching for Lecter, waiting for him to make some move -- on him, on Clarice, on some poor rude waiter in the bar, who the hell knows anymore -- is getting to him. And the Scottish exterior is cold, and gray, and he misses Sugarloaf. God he misses Sugarloaf, and Molly, and Josh. Hell, he'd shake Crawford's hand if he showed up here.

He can't sleep.

It took him a long time, all things considered, to finally realize that there's a fully-stocked bar downstairs and that he can take advantage of it. It takes a little longer to talk himself into going downstairs and getting a bottle of Southern Comfort; as a concession to his own caution, he takes it upstairs and locks and chains the door before he starts drinking.

Half an hour later, he's two glasses into the bottle and starting to feel a little fuzzy.
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