2019-05-28 - Paralysed Force, Gesture Without Motion

It's a warm afternoon, not quite hot but getting there. Two-If-By-Sea is open, but most people are out enjoying the festival so the bar is relatively quiet inside. It also doesn't help that there's currently a large wall of sand blocking the stairs to get up onto the deck. That doesn't appear to be normal.

Alexander trudges down the beach, not looking very festive in his ratty t-shirt and jeans, although he does have a tablet tucked under one arm. The cheapest possible model, really. His head is down, and he's slouching, so he doesn't see the the wall of sand until he's quite close. He stops, and frowns at it. "Real?" he asks himself, sounding uncertain. "Not real?" He does a slow turn in place, looking for something that might identify which reality he's currently in. A giant sign, maybe.

There is no sign that says 'THIS IS REAL', but the sand itself looks very realistic. It's just a firmly built wall, effectively blocking the stairs. Maybe there is another way in. Maybe that doesn't matter. The tablet underneath Alexander's arm gets tugged forward like it's being controlled by an invisible string, and is pulled in the opposite direction away from the bar through the sand. Go fetch!

"Very real." This from the fair-haired woman stuck at the top of the stairs to the deck, walled up there by that pile of sand. Alexander has seen her; she's the 'female lead' of that troupe in the park. Flame-bright, even at a glance, with radiating waves of trouble and confusion coming from her when she looks at the ramp of sand that's keeping her up here, moreso when his tablet goes sailing. Her sigh is right there in his mind. << She's terrible. I'm so sorry. >>

In the back of his mind, this was sort of what he /expected/ to result from the invitation by Easton to swing by the bar - although admittedly with less psychokinesis. Alexander curses anyway, and snatches at his tablet as it goes sailing away from him. He follows, grimly, at least for a few steps, until that woman appears and her voice echoes in his mind. He freezes, falling into a defensive posture. "I don't know you," he snaps. "What are you doing here?" His gaze skitters sideways, trying to keep an eye on where his electronics are going. That was a whole job's pay, you jerks.

"I'm stuck here." The woman blinks down at him, like she doesn't understand what he doesn't understand about this situation. It's not rude. She's just really confused.

At least the tablet doesn't go far. Mostly because a sandcastle is suddenly built around it. It's got spirals and seashells for a roof. It's a pretty castle. The wall remains. Though it does grow another foot higher.

This is madness. Alexander knows what that feels like. "None of this is probably even happening," he mutters, to himself more than to the woman seen or unseen. And yet. And yet. He gives the sand castle a flat, angry look...then walks over to the wall as it grows, and looks for a way to help the woman down. He tries to push his hands into the sand and see if he can't just collapse a section, although his resigned expression doesn't suggest he's hopeful about this.

Oh no, Alexander. That was the wrong choice. The sand grows around his hands, seizes his wrists, and starts to pull him into the wall.

Sad sad sad, the woman stuck up here is very sad. Feel her sads, Alexander! "You're probably going to be climbing forever." Another sigh, though it's all getting mixed up: is it a sigh out loud? A sigh in his brain? So confusing! "Oh, or that." She doesn't actually touch the wall. Probably, she should've warned him to do the same, whoopsie. "Bye?"

Whatever is pulling him in also has FEELS. They are hungry feels. The sandwallmonster is would like an Alexander snack, OM NOM NOM.

Oh, fuck no. Alexander is not getting buried alive twice in one week. Or maybe he is. It certainly looks like it is, and a surge of pure fear is /very/ easy to pick up for anyone inclined in that direction. But he doesn't start screaming immediately, which is sort of a personal victory. Right? Right. "Stop this," he snarls back, not really caring who he's addressing. Then he braces himself and starts pulling back. And he looks up at the sky. It's a bar. There are always seagulls, right? If so, Alexander reaches out to them and tries to reach out and bring them under his command.

Does anybody remember that scene in Neverending Story? You know. That scene. Where the horse slowly sinks into the quicksand? That's Alexander right now. He's pulling, but the sand pulls harder. At least it's an incredibly slow, drawn out sort of sinking. He's up to his elbows now. om nom nom nom nom.

"I can't." The woman on top of the wall pouts prettily and points... oh... she forgets where. She turns in a slow circle, looking for something while the seagull comes to roost. She isn't quite sure where, but Alexander is completely certain that it's not the blonde woman that's causing the wall of sand to eat him. She's just distressed and stuck and sad sad sad. 🙁

He is moderately sure, however, that the blonde woman is the one from whom the wall's FEELS are coming. You know, the feeling like this thing's stomach is burbling and wants to dissolve him and digest him because he will be delicious!

Alexander's feet are sinking as he tries to brace himself on sand. The sand is slowly but inexorably eating his hands. With that hunger beating at him, he's not sure that he'll get those back, no matter what. His eyes snap up to the woman in a glare...but priorities. Crushing sand first, nasty emotion tricks second. A glance at the seagull. He doesn't /say/ anything, but he projects in the creature's mind a location. A location and a vague human shape who is just MADE of delicious popcorn. Which could be /all for the Seagull/, if only it goes over there and eats it fast enough. FLY, MY PRETTY. And grab a couple of friends if you can.

Alexander immediately starts pulling the fuck back, trying to scramble back away from the wall. "And fuck you too, Mother" he says, not without a certain sort of satisfaction.

<< You're just going to leave me up here?! >> The poor blonde woman! The accusations against Alexander are face-slaps in his psyche, big terrible coward who leaves poor distressed damsels trapped atop sand walls to DIE!! What's wrong with him?! Good normal people SAVE poor women like her!

Her tears are almost as tragic as the litany of thoughts that accompany them.

The emotions hurt. They tear and bite at his core in a way he's not accustomed to. Not with so much power behind them. "Those aren't real feelings! Stop lying! You were trying to EAT ME!" He rages back, but sounds as hurt as he does angry. And then the seagull explodes, and he flinches at the sudden burst of pain and silence. "You didn't have to do that!" He whirls on the dark-haired woman. "You didn't have to kill it!" But does he feel guilty? OH yes. He starts backing away, warily trying to keep an eye on both. "Who the fuck are you?" And then that guilt intensifies, overwhelms and he lets out what can only be called a wail, hands going to his head as he just tries to stay on his feet.

Polly jerks back as Alexander starts screaming at her, dark eyes wide with innocence. "That's rude," she remarks dully, very bored with all this emotion. She flicks a glance to the blonde woman, and then to Alexander as he wails.

The wall grows another foot higher.

"Aren't you going to save her?"

Yes, aren't you going to save her?! << She'll make me stay up here. She does this all the time. >> It's even more tragic since, with the wall growing, the poor woman is disappearing behind it, now just her head-and-shoulders visible... and soon even that will be gone. And she'll just live here now, that's the sad, sad, SAD image: pretty woman, trapped up here forever, till she starves to death or dies of thirst. All because Alexander won't save her.

Or can't save her?

"I can't save her," Alexander says, dully. His voice is harsh from the wailing, wavering as he struggles to find equilibrium. "You're Judas goats. Both of you. Heard about you. No one can save /you/."

Polly sidles up close to Alexander. "You can't save her? Or you don't want to?" Her slim brows go up, and she lays a hand on his shoulder. "We could work together." She flicks a look back up to the blonde, and sighs outward. "Or we could leave her there to die and watch. It would be such a pretty death, wouldn't it?"

"You could try, at least." The blonde woman's last words before she's too small and the wall is too high.

Alexander closes his eyes. A shudder runs through him. It /would/ be an /interesting/ death. Not one he's seen, or has a photo of. He bites down on his lower lip. "She's not in any danger," he says, trying to convince himself of it. And then that presence arises, and he goes pale. Shock pale, corpse pale. He grabs his head in both hands and doubles over. "No," he whispers, too overwhelmed to even scream. "No no nononononono."

"Goodbye, fair maiden!" Polly coos, fluttering fingers in the direction of the rapidly disappearing blonde. But then Alexander starts crying again, and she pets his head. "We could make this stop for you," pet-pet. "They just want someone to nibble. Give them someone else. Her, for starters. Put something in her brain, something scary. Make her feel what you are feeling."

Muffled sobbing. "Please. Please not me! Please not again!" It pours out over the top of all Alexander's no-no-nos. "Please not again, please not me again, please!"

Alexander cowers from the touch. No dignity at all as he collapses to his knees, as much to get away from the feel of her fingers as the reaction to the rest. He is, genuinely, crying now. "I don't. I don't do that." He shudders, tries to push back. "It'll happen soon enough. For you. I won't help it. I want to be good."

"Good?" This makes Polly blink-blink. She seems altogether incredibly bored by the blonde's wailing. "They just want to eat. All things want to eat. That is neither good, nor bad. Just.. nature. The way things are." She sighs at him as he sinks into the sand by her feet, and bends to continue to pet him. "I just don't want to be eaten. Does that make me bad? Or does that make me smart?" She shrugs, and waves a hand.

The sand wall collapses, the stairs revealed.

Down the stairs comes the fair woman, her face all tear-stained. She's a pretty crier. The big, sad eyes look at where Alexander is being petted by Polly, and - with a chin-wobble - she points out, "You could have saved us both and you didn't. That's not very good."

Alexander isn't sure what's worse - the way his skin crawls at Polly's touch, or the way he wants to lean into it at the same time. He doesn't get touched very often. He doesn't look at either of them, fixes his eyes on the sand in front of him. "Judas goats," he repeats, quiet. "Hollow men. I will remember you, if at all, not as lost, violent souls, but only as the hollow men. The stuffed men." It has the lilt of a quote, a litany, a mantra.

Polly's brows climb at Alexander's litany. It makes her giggle, quietly. She strokes her fingers through his hair, and then the touch is gone away. She dips into a dramatic bow towards the blonde instead, and extends a pale arm. "I suppose I am your hero this afternoon, my fair maiden," she coos. "Shall we leave him to cry, and wallow in his evilness? He could've saved you."

So many accusations in the big, watery, teary eyes that hold Alexander for a long moment while he says things at them. Finally, like this is a pronouncement more than an observation, "You won't remember this the way it really happened. You never remember anything." A fair hand slips around a pale arm, and the blonde woman lets herself be lead away by the dark one, sighing sadly. << He can't save anyone. >>

Alexander whimpers. He can't argue with it. Not with any of it. Not that he's in any position to argue with anything. He's pretty much going to huddle there and shake for a bit until he can crawl into a hole somewhere for a while.