Encounterlogs
Alexanders Odd Encounter Sr Savannah 240209
In a hospital room where Alexander lies in severe pain, a supernatural encounter unfolds as the shower mysteriously turns on with no one around. With nothing but a thin hospital gown, Alexander's curiosity and bravery lead him to the source of the disturbance. As he enters the bathroom, he's enveloped by steam that seems otherworldly, with temperatures rising and visibility dropping. Meanwhile, Bianca, a visitor, arrives and peers into the chaos, calling out Alexander's name as Alexander warns him of the danger. Spirits swirl around in the mist, the temperature plummets, and shadowy figures appear, culminating in a suspenseful confrontation.
As Alexander and Bianca grapple with the paranormal activity in the form of icy tendrils and howling winds, a figure of a frozen woman materializes, claiming she was wronged and abandoned, voicing her anguish through the gales. Rallying his strength despite his injuries, Alexander addresses the ghost directly, offering to help and right the wrongs she endured. Bianca, initially hesitant and unsure of his own abilities, provides emotional support and pleads with the spirit for liberation and justice. The entity shares its tragic tale through vivid visions, leading Alexander and Bianca to appeal to its desire for freedom and closure, suggesting that they could take its place for the suffering inflicted upon it, showing compassion and readiness to aid in its release.
(Alexander's odd encounter(SRSavannah):SRSavannah)
[Thu Feb 8 2024]
In hospital room 2
This room is sparsely furnished, the sanitary white walls a perfect match
to the linoleum floor and the thin hospital sheets on the gurney that serves
as a bed. A small television mounted in the upper corner of the room is set
at a low volume, and a thin curtain bisects the room in an effort to afford
privacy to the occupant on the other side.
It is afternoon, about 8F(-13C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
Alexander is lain in a hospital bed, severely injured, with a gown and little else. This timeline can be shifted as needs require, and he's a pretty tough guy when the situation demands.
Those injuries that might have brought Alexander to be wearing just that hospital gown and not much else, laid up in a bed in one of the recovery rooms within White Oak is probably an unfortunate situation, but Haven is often all about the unfortunate situations and those who endure, become stronger, or perhaps those who simply can't let go. As the man tries to recover and go through his day, the sound of the nearby water turning on in the bathroom area nearby sounds out, the splash of water. It is a curious thing, because Alexander might not remember anyone coming or going, and this is his room, after all.
Alexander sits up, and lets out a groan. He tries to subdue it, keep it silent but he struggles. He reaches for a knife, and a gun, both of which are missing, but steels himself. Surreptitiously, he slips from the bed and tries to pad quietly across his room toward the bathroom.
Every movement is a challenge against himself to keep quiet.
Water falls from the showerhead now in that empty room. It cascades down in that splattering, splashing sound that causes Alexander to investigate, despite his terrible state of affairs. Just a gown for protection and the mental fortitude of being brave enough to go seek out what could be causing the shower to turn on brings him into the room. The water starts to look like it is warm, steam rising up from the splashing now and Alexander can already feel the heat. Anyone who has used the facilities in White Oak probably wouldn't remember the water temperature being this hot, and it seems like it is to the point of scalding temperatures now, steam rising, filling the room, causing it to be thick enough for Alexander to perhaps struggle to see throughout it. There does seem to be nobody present, though.
Currently, Alexander is investigating within the hospital room he resides the bathroom and showering facility portion right next to his room. There are no doors and there is steam cascading out of the room right now, the water on, the man stepping inside should Bianca come into the hospital room itself to perhaps visit and assist.
Alexander exhales with a sharp annoyed noise. "Love this for me," he murmurs. Realizing less mundane ears are his concern and supernatural, he shifts quietly into the bathroom, trying to see any shape, or turn off the scalding water without touching it.
A swirl of that steam rises and wraps around Alexander as he moves through the shower room towards the water nozzle to try and turn off the scalding hot water. It is almost behaving as if outside, during those misty nights where the town of Haven grows even more eerie. The light above flickers, that electrified sound of buzzing that shows a bulb about to potentially go out and then, darkness. Pause. Heartbeat. Pause. Heartbeat. The lights come back on in full force, brighter than before as that buzzing sound echoes out and when the water stops, the steam begins to settle onto the floor more so than spreading around the room as a whole and the light goes back to normal.
Bianca manages to bribe a nurse to let him into the room, and in he quickly goes, a familiar but perhaps not extremely familiar visitor. He looks around the hospital room first, his eyes of course drawn to the gurney, but no one's there, so he follows the sound of water into the bathroom. "Alex!" he says in his rich tenor.
"Fuck..." Alexander mumbles as he shifts back, the pulsing light... eletrical danger. The buzzing. He closes his eyes and takes a slow steady breath. The fog slowly drifting to his feet, setting in to a find of familiar mist. He shifts back. "Fuck! Theo...!? What are you, stay there!" he insists, backpedalling a moment
"I just came to visit you! I thought it'd be a fun surprise!" Bianca starts to back off from the bathroom, but freezes with one foot behind the other once he's commanded to stay put. He tilts his head back to look at the light as it flares back to life and thrums. "What's going on?"
Ground mist swirls around Alexander when those words are exclaimed, and as Bianca comes searching as well, that spilling steam slips out from the room like tendrils with a wisp heading towards their ankles. The light above blackens again, plunging the whole room into darkness once more and when it flashes again, brightening, there is a face in the mirror and the steam itself swirls around both Alexander and Bianca's legs, wrapping up along corduroy pants on one and nothing but cheap hospital gown on the other, fluttering that gown with the momentum of it all before steam, now incredibly cold to the touch mists out over both of them as a geyser up towards the ceiling. The entire existence of it on the ground gone, save for some dampness left behind as it swirls above them now, as if gravity only for the steam itself has reversed within this room.
Alexander groans. He looks like hell. His body is mostly bandages. A sling around his right arm, tying it to his chest. His ribs are plastered, and crutches he should be using are abandoned by the bed the moment this little adventure began.
"Haven bullshit," he insists, but is cut off by the sudden tendril gripping his ankle. He struggles, but anything he might have been able to do his fragile form cannot endure.
Alexander reaches out, to try to pull himself to Bianca.
Bianca staggers where he stands, tripping like a klutz over feet he still isn't terribly used to. "Fuck!" he utters, and the momentum of his stumbling sends him forward towards Alexander if the tendrils don't hold him in place. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he begins an uncreative mantra that continues well after it trails off into a mere mumbling of the same. "What do we do?!" he calls out into the rapidly chilling room.
Bianca reaches out his hand, too, clutching for whatever of Alexander he can reach and grabbing tightly.
The ceiling begins to have that swirl of mist in full force now, the temperature dropping down quite quickly as someone and Alexander try to stumble towards one another for attempted stability while sharing the experience of more Haven Bullshit. Above them, the mist begins to slink downwards, as if dripping in long, sharp spikes that start to solidify into dangerous looking icicles above and soon, wind flows from the hospital room nearby and pushes, harshly against the door, as if they are within a refuge while there is a blizzard raging just outside. It whistle and whips at their clothing, causing a torrent of bursting wind within the room that certainly won't help them stay on their feet, but at least they have each other now for help in balancing. Above, the light flickers again, and in a single heartbeat, darkness, then light, and now, a figure. It stands there at the entrance to the bathroom, staring, the light above flickering out again and now, only the light from the hospital room behind. It does not move, perfectly stationary, a darkened visage brought on by the lack of light within the room and the brightness behind contrasting enough to make it difficult to tell features. It seems small, petite, perhaps an adult-aged woman, but the hair? It doesn't move. The wind does not affect it at all.
The ceiling begins to have that swirl of mist in full force now, the temperature dropping down quite quickly as Bianca and Alexander try to stumble towards one another for attempted stability while sharing the experience of more Haven Bullshit. Above them, the mist begins to slink downwards, as if dripping in long, sharp spikes that start to solidify into dangerous looking icicles above and soon, wind flows from the hospital room nearby and pushes, harshly against the door, as if they are within a refuge while there is a blizzard raging just outside. It whistle and whips at their clothing, causing a torrent of bursting wind within the room that certainly won't help them stay on their feet, but at least they have each other now for help in balancing. Above, the light flickers again, and in a single heartbeat, darkness, then light, and now, a figure. It stands there at the entrance to the bathroom, staring, the light above flickering out again and now, only the light from the hospital room behind. It does not move, perfectly stationary, a darkened visage brought on by the lack of light within the room and the brightness behind contrasting enough to make it difficult to tell features. It seems small, petite, perhaps an adult-aged woman, but the hair? It doesn't move. The wind does not affect it at all.
Alexander holds Bianca tight, pain ripping through his body as adrenaline forces him to push his body beyond its reasonable limits. "Its okay," he assures Bianca. He moves protectively around them, the ominous icicles, he tries to pull them from it's possible. His gaze is pulled then to the figure, sensitive gaze focusing on it. "You...?" he gazes.
Bianca clings to Alexander, but is afraid to cling too hard, his grip relaxing on him as he remembers the pain he must be in, given the bandages and other treatments. Eventually, he lets go altogether -- no part of Alexander seems truly safe to touch. He turns around to face the figure, if he can see it, a shudder running through him as he remains in contact with Alexander, if only attached at the hip.
Menacing, that figure even in its petite stature just seems like trouble. Perhaps it is the darkness that seems to surround their features, the way they just appeared, the way the wind roils and rips through the room in those powerful gusts. When asked that question though, the wind suddenly stops and the icicles above begin to crack, threatening to fall, sharp daggers waiting to pierce something beneath. They do not just yet, and the figure steps forward and when it speaks, it does not speak through mouth, but lips do move, the light above illuminating the room once more to show the visage of a woman frozen. Her cramped features covered in ice, pain lingering on her face as cracking skin and broken lips begin to move. The sound that comes through is rushing wind behind her, as if the last gasps of a dying woman, groaning, whispering, yelling, sliding over their entire body and consuming them with those words, echoing and fading just the same, "Lost... lost! Them... they... did this!"
Alexander takes a slow deep breath. The presence of Bianca at his side makes him feel bold. He gazes down at the figure and steadies himself, drawing himself up a little more confidently. "They, who is they...?" he speaks. His voice is low, drawing a full breath gives him shooting pains but he is in his zone now. A calm, not free of terror but holding it at bay. Somebody...needs help? She's hurt? He bares the chill, trembling
Bianca can see the figure, it seems, as it manifests, but probably not as distinctly as Alexander can make it out. Her eyes are half-focused, trying to hold onto the ephemeral spectre that seems to shift in and out of being. He keeps close to Alexander, but doesn't seem to know what to say to the apparition. His mouth drops open for a few moments as he thinks about it, and then shakes his head, letting Alexander take the lead for now.
Wind whips around them both again, that wailing howl of desperation there, blowing one of the icicles above to slip free and slam into the wall behind, piercing itself there before shattering into a multitude of pieces towards the floor, "They did this! They took me and left me!" That desperation was there in the wail, the figure stepping closer to both Bianca and Alexander, but it didn't actually move, instead, the lights flickered. Pause. Closer. Flicker. Pause. Closer. It was as if the figure didn't need to walk or did so when the lights were out.
Alexander turns his gaze to Bianca. "I am not in a state, if I try to banish this thing, it might kill me. You've gotta be strong, okay? Focused. Show me what you're capable of," he tells Bianca, voice brimming with confident. He steps half towards the woman, his gaze trying to look for a source of light reliable here. "Spirit! I am Alexander Murphy! I am a conduit to the strange! And a righter of wrongs!" Stalling for time and trying to connect with her both.
"Tell me your story! Your fury is mighty and plain to see you have been wronged! Let me aid you!" he insists.
"I don't know how to do that!" Bianca breaks her silence to speak to Alexander, though his eyes are still locked on the apparition. He leans back away from it, from its awful chill, from the flashing lights. "I only know how to do the one thing!" But he does know how to talk, and while he reaches for Alexander's hand to cling to it if it's not too hurt, he addresses the apparition. "You're not alone," he pleads with the entity. "We're here. We want to help you." He sets his voice with all the firmness he can manage. "We -will- help you," he says with renewed determination. He even forces himself to stand up straight again, like a short reed.
It seems that the interest in this spirits story might actually help, as the wind begins to die down some. It is no longer a whipping roar when words are carried upon it and instead, a strong, firm breeze that presses against them, "They lied... I was not crazy! They lied! They brought me here... I stayed, so, so long... lost everything... then..." The wind stops, the thing that stands before them explodes into thousands of motes of darkness, spreading throughout the room, light vanishing and plunging it into total darkness. But within that darkness, a star. It glows, bright and soon, illumination as this shared vision consumes their entire reality. A woman in one of those terrible hospital gowns. A bumpy ride. A hood over her head. People around her. She's in the back of a truck, open air whipping against them as they cruise through some dirt road deep into the forest, somewhere, anywhere. They pull over, the brakes squeak, the truck is beat-up. She is pulled off the back of it and then carried deep into the woods. Pleading does not help. Screaming and kicking does not help. She is dropped off, left, it is cold, the dead of winter. Snow crunches underfoot. She's shivering, the gown does nothing to protect her. Then, the darkness fades and the terrible visage of that woman, blue skin, eyes unmoving, frozen in terror, "They left me..."
Alexander nods to her. "I have been a victim of such care," he confesses. "I saw the world in a way they could not accept, and so they feared..." He hesitates and as the darkness explodes he moves protectively toward Bianca. Gazing at the vision his eyes open wide. "No...no...no..." He shrinks back, and deep terror pulls at him.
Bianca draws in a sharp lungful of air as he endures the visions the phantom projects before them. He holds tightly onto Alexander's hand, forgetting for the moment that he might be exacerbating some wound with his grip. He's clearly not used to this kind of thing, sweat dribbling down his brow, his lip quaking. But he makes his voice forceful. "You don't have to exist in that moment anymore," he says, as if he knows anything about anything. "Look at where you are. A different time. A different place. They're gone, maybe long gone. You could go, too. Nothing has to hold you here. You can be free from pain, when you're ready." He shifts his eyes to Alexander, uncertain if he's saying anything that makes sense, looking for some cue, but he cannot look away from the spectre for long. "If someone has to be punished for what they did, for you to let go, then punish me. Not him, okay? Not him."
As Alexander and Bianca grapple with the paranormal activity in the form of icy tendrils and howling winds, a figure of a frozen woman materializes, claiming she was wronged and abandoned, voicing her anguish through the gales. Rallying his strength despite his injuries, Alexander addresses the ghost directly, offering to help and right the wrongs she endured. Bianca, initially hesitant and unsure of his own abilities, provides emotional support and pleads with the spirit for liberation and justice. The entity shares its tragic tale through vivid visions, leading Alexander and Bianca to appeal to its desire for freedom and closure, suggesting that they could take its place for the suffering inflicted upon it, showing compassion and readiness to aid in its release.
(Alexander's odd encounter(SRSavannah):SRSavannah)
[Thu Feb 8 2024]
In hospital room 2
This room is sparsely furnished, the sanitary white walls a perfect match
to the linoleum floor and the thin hospital sheets on the gurney that serves
as a bed. A small television mounted in the upper corner of the room is set
at a low volume, and a thin curtain bisects the room in an effort to afford
privacy to the occupant on the other side.
It is afternoon, about 8F(-13C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
Alexander is lain in a hospital bed, severely injured, with a gown and little else. This timeline can be shifted as needs require, and he's a pretty tough guy when the situation demands.
Those injuries that might have brought Alexander to be wearing just that hospital gown and not much else, laid up in a bed in one of the recovery rooms within White Oak is probably an unfortunate situation, but Haven is often all about the unfortunate situations and those who endure, become stronger, or perhaps those who simply can't let go. As the man tries to recover and go through his day, the sound of the nearby water turning on in the bathroom area nearby sounds out, the splash of water. It is a curious thing, because Alexander might not remember anyone coming or going, and this is his room, after all.
Alexander sits up, and lets out a groan. He tries to subdue it, keep it silent but he struggles. He reaches for a knife, and a gun, both of which are missing, but steels himself. Surreptitiously, he slips from the bed and tries to pad quietly across his room toward the bathroom.
Every movement is a challenge against himself to keep quiet.
Water falls from the showerhead now in that empty room. It cascades down in that splattering, splashing sound that causes Alexander to investigate, despite his terrible state of affairs. Just a gown for protection and the mental fortitude of being brave enough to go seek out what could be causing the shower to turn on brings him into the room. The water starts to look like it is warm, steam rising up from the splashing now and Alexander can already feel the heat. Anyone who has used the facilities in White Oak probably wouldn't remember the water temperature being this hot, and it seems like it is to the point of scalding temperatures now, steam rising, filling the room, causing it to be thick enough for Alexander to perhaps struggle to see throughout it. There does seem to be nobody present, though.
Currently, Alexander is investigating within the hospital room he resides the bathroom and showering facility portion right next to his room. There are no doors and there is steam cascading out of the room right now, the water on, the man stepping inside should Bianca come into the hospital room itself to perhaps visit and assist.
Alexander exhales with a sharp annoyed noise. "Love this for me," he murmurs. Realizing less mundane ears are his concern and supernatural, he shifts quietly into the bathroom, trying to see any shape, or turn off the scalding water without touching it.
A swirl of that steam rises and wraps around Alexander as he moves through the shower room towards the water nozzle to try and turn off the scalding hot water. It is almost behaving as if outside, during those misty nights where the town of Haven grows even more eerie. The light above flickers, that electrified sound of buzzing that shows a bulb about to potentially go out and then, darkness. Pause. Heartbeat. Pause. Heartbeat. The lights come back on in full force, brighter than before as that buzzing sound echoes out and when the water stops, the steam begins to settle onto the floor more so than spreading around the room as a whole and the light goes back to normal.
Bianca manages to bribe a nurse to let him into the room, and in he quickly goes, a familiar but perhaps not extremely familiar visitor. He looks around the hospital room first, his eyes of course drawn to the gurney, but no one's there, so he follows the sound of water into the bathroom. "Alex!" he says in his rich tenor.
"Fuck..." Alexander mumbles as he shifts back, the pulsing light... eletrical danger. The buzzing. He closes his eyes and takes a slow steady breath. The fog slowly drifting to his feet, setting in to a find of familiar mist. He shifts back. "Fuck! Theo...!? What are you, stay there!" he insists, backpedalling a moment
"I just came to visit you! I thought it'd be a fun surprise!" Bianca starts to back off from the bathroom, but freezes with one foot behind the other once he's commanded to stay put. He tilts his head back to look at the light as it flares back to life and thrums. "What's going on?"
Ground mist swirls around Alexander when those words are exclaimed, and as Bianca comes searching as well, that spilling steam slips out from the room like tendrils with a wisp heading towards their ankles. The light above blackens again, plunging the whole room into darkness once more and when it flashes again, brightening, there is a face in the mirror and the steam itself swirls around both Alexander and Bianca's legs, wrapping up along corduroy pants on one and nothing but cheap hospital gown on the other, fluttering that gown with the momentum of it all before steam, now incredibly cold to the touch mists out over both of them as a geyser up towards the ceiling. The entire existence of it on the ground gone, save for some dampness left behind as it swirls above them now, as if gravity only for the steam itself has reversed within this room.
Alexander groans. He looks like hell. His body is mostly bandages. A sling around his right arm, tying it to his chest. His ribs are plastered, and crutches he should be using are abandoned by the bed the moment this little adventure began.
"Haven bullshit," he insists, but is cut off by the sudden tendril gripping his ankle. He struggles, but anything he might have been able to do his fragile form cannot endure.
Alexander reaches out, to try to pull himself to Bianca.
Bianca staggers where he stands, tripping like a klutz over feet he still isn't terribly used to. "Fuck!" he utters, and the momentum of his stumbling sends him forward towards Alexander if the tendrils don't hold him in place. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he begins an uncreative mantra that continues well after it trails off into a mere mumbling of the same. "What do we do?!" he calls out into the rapidly chilling room.
Bianca reaches out his hand, too, clutching for whatever of Alexander he can reach and grabbing tightly.
The ceiling begins to have that swirl of mist in full force now, the temperature dropping down quite quickly as someone and Alexander try to stumble towards one another for attempted stability while sharing the experience of more Haven Bullshit. Above them, the mist begins to slink downwards, as if dripping in long, sharp spikes that start to solidify into dangerous looking icicles above and soon, wind flows from the hospital room nearby and pushes, harshly against the door, as if they are within a refuge while there is a blizzard raging just outside. It whistle and whips at their clothing, causing a torrent of bursting wind within the room that certainly won't help them stay on their feet, but at least they have each other now for help in balancing. Above, the light flickers again, and in a single heartbeat, darkness, then light, and now, a figure. It stands there at the entrance to the bathroom, staring, the light above flickering out again and now, only the light from the hospital room behind. It does not move, perfectly stationary, a darkened visage brought on by the lack of light within the room and the brightness behind contrasting enough to make it difficult to tell features. It seems small, petite, perhaps an adult-aged woman, but the hair? It doesn't move. The wind does not affect it at all.
The ceiling begins to have that swirl of mist in full force now, the temperature dropping down quite quickly as Bianca and Alexander try to stumble towards one another for attempted stability while sharing the experience of more Haven Bullshit. Above them, the mist begins to slink downwards, as if dripping in long, sharp spikes that start to solidify into dangerous looking icicles above and soon, wind flows from the hospital room nearby and pushes, harshly against the door, as if they are within a refuge while there is a blizzard raging just outside. It whistle and whips at their clothing, causing a torrent of bursting wind within the room that certainly won't help them stay on their feet, but at least they have each other now for help in balancing. Above, the light flickers again, and in a single heartbeat, darkness, then light, and now, a figure. It stands there at the entrance to the bathroom, staring, the light above flickering out again and now, only the light from the hospital room behind. It does not move, perfectly stationary, a darkened visage brought on by the lack of light within the room and the brightness behind contrasting enough to make it difficult to tell features. It seems small, petite, perhaps an adult-aged woman, but the hair? It doesn't move. The wind does not affect it at all.
Alexander holds Bianca tight, pain ripping through his body as adrenaline forces him to push his body beyond its reasonable limits. "Its okay," he assures Bianca. He moves protectively around them, the ominous icicles, he tries to pull them from it's possible. His gaze is pulled then to the figure, sensitive gaze focusing on it. "You...?" he gazes.
Bianca clings to Alexander, but is afraid to cling too hard, his grip relaxing on him as he remembers the pain he must be in, given the bandages and other treatments. Eventually, he lets go altogether -- no part of Alexander seems truly safe to touch. He turns around to face the figure, if he can see it, a shudder running through him as he remains in contact with Alexander, if only attached at the hip.
Menacing, that figure even in its petite stature just seems like trouble. Perhaps it is the darkness that seems to surround their features, the way they just appeared, the way the wind roils and rips through the room in those powerful gusts. When asked that question though, the wind suddenly stops and the icicles above begin to crack, threatening to fall, sharp daggers waiting to pierce something beneath. They do not just yet, and the figure steps forward and when it speaks, it does not speak through mouth, but lips do move, the light above illuminating the room once more to show the visage of a woman frozen. Her cramped features covered in ice, pain lingering on her face as cracking skin and broken lips begin to move. The sound that comes through is rushing wind behind her, as if the last gasps of a dying woman, groaning, whispering, yelling, sliding over their entire body and consuming them with those words, echoing and fading just the same, "Lost... lost! Them... they... did this!"
Alexander takes a slow deep breath. The presence of Bianca at his side makes him feel bold. He gazes down at the figure and steadies himself, drawing himself up a little more confidently. "They, who is they...?" he speaks. His voice is low, drawing a full breath gives him shooting pains but he is in his zone now. A calm, not free of terror but holding it at bay. Somebody...needs help? She's hurt? He bares the chill, trembling
Bianca can see the figure, it seems, as it manifests, but probably not as distinctly as Alexander can make it out. Her eyes are half-focused, trying to hold onto the ephemeral spectre that seems to shift in and out of being. He keeps close to Alexander, but doesn't seem to know what to say to the apparition. His mouth drops open for a few moments as he thinks about it, and then shakes his head, letting Alexander take the lead for now.
Wind whips around them both again, that wailing howl of desperation there, blowing one of the icicles above to slip free and slam into the wall behind, piercing itself there before shattering into a multitude of pieces towards the floor, "They did this! They took me and left me!" That desperation was there in the wail, the figure stepping closer to both Bianca and Alexander, but it didn't actually move, instead, the lights flickered. Pause. Closer. Flicker. Pause. Closer. It was as if the figure didn't need to walk or did so when the lights were out.
Alexander turns his gaze to Bianca. "I am not in a state, if I try to banish this thing, it might kill me. You've gotta be strong, okay? Focused. Show me what you're capable of," he tells Bianca, voice brimming with confident. He steps half towards the woman, his gaze trying to look for a source of light reliable here. "Spirit! I am Alexander Murphy! I am a conduit to the strange! And a righter of wrongs!" Stalling for time and trying to connect with her both.
"Tell me your story! Your fury is mighty and plain to see you have been wronged! Let me aid you!" he insists.
"I don't know how to do that!" Bianca breaks her silence to speak to Alexander, though his eyes are still locked on the apparition. He leans back away from it, from its awful chill, from the flashing lights. "I only know how to do the one thing!" But he does know how to talk, and while he reaches for Alexander's hand to cling to it if it's not too hurt, he addresses the apparition. "You're not alone," he pleads with the entity. "We're here. We want to help you." He sets his voice with all the firmness he can manage. "We -will- help you," he says with renewed determination. He even forces himself to stand up straight again, like a short reed.
It seems that the interest in this spirits story might actually help, as the wind begins to die down some. It is no longer a whipping roar when words are carried upon it and instead, a strong, firm breeze that presses against them, "They lied... I was not crazy! They lied! They brought me here... I stayed, so, so long... lost everything... then..." The wind stops, the thing that stands before them explodes into thousands of motes of darkness, spreading throughout the room, light vanishing and plunging it into total darkness. But within that darkness, a star. It glows, bright and soon, illumination as this shared vision consumes their entire reality. A woman in one of those terrible hospital gowns. A bumpy ride. A hood over her head. People around her. She's in the back of a truck, open air whipping against them as they cruise through some dirt road deep into the forest, somewhere, anywhere. They pull over, the brakes squeak, the truck is beat-up. She is pulled off the back of it and then carried deep into the woods. Pleading does not help. Screaming and kicking does not help. She is dropped off, left, it is cold, the dead of winter. Snow crunches underfoot. She's shivering, the gown does nothing to protect her. Then, the darkness fades and the terrible visage of that woman, blue skin, eyes unmoving, frozen in terror, "They left me..."
Alexander nods to her. "I have been a victim of such care," he confesses. "I saw the world in a way they could not accept, and so they feared..." He hesitates and as the darkness explodes he moves protectively toward Bianca. Gazing at the vision his eyes open wide. "No...no...no..." He shrinks back, and deep terror pulls at him.
Bianca draws in a sharp lungful of air as he endures the visions the phantom projects before them. He holds tightly onto Alexander's hand, forgetting for the moment that he might be exacerbating some wound with his grip. He's clearly not used to this kind of thing, sweat dribbling down his brow, his lip quaking. But he makes his voice forceful. "You don't have to exist in that moment anymore," he says, as if he knows anything about anything. "Look at where you are. A different time. A different place. They're gone, maybe long gone. You could go, too. Nothing has to hold you here. You can be free from pain, when you're ready." He shifts his eyes to Alexander, uncertain if he's saying anything that makes sense, looking for some cue, but he cannot look away from the spectre for long. "If someone has to be punished for what they did, for you to let go, then punish me. Not him, okay? Not him."