ataraxion | [ i. text ] got a knife to disengage the voids that i can't bear...

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[ i. text ] got a knife to disengage the voids that i can't bear...

[ trish has been debating all day whether or not to send a message. at first it was going to be a video, but then as soon as she had gone to create the message she had started to cry, and then her eyes got swollen and well... at least no one can see how badly her hands are shaking. ]

First off, I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Trish and I'm new. I have a question, which may sound strange. Did anybody else die before coming here? Or was dying before they found themselves here? Or anything similar? Just you know...general curiosity about how this place works.

[ liar, liar, pants on fire. ]

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How is it possible? I get that this isn't heaven, or hell, or even somewhere in between. Right?

[ text isn't Heather's strong point. She relies a lot on tone of voice and hand movements, so she flips over to video. She's been here long enough not to take it personally if Trish doesn't respond. ]

Right.

I don't think anybody knows. I've been trying to piece things together, keep notes about stuff people tell me - not for long, just a few weeks - and I can't see any real connections between the people here. I mean, the last thing I remember from back home was walking home from work. Hardly dramatic.

[ she shrugs, and it's equal parts apology and what-can-you-do? ]

[ trish hesitates a moment before switching to video, she hopes her eyes aren't as swollen any more.

she nervously runs a hand through her hair and bites her lip. ]

So it's all random? Us being here?

[ she doesn't know if that makes her feel better, or worse. ]

I... [ beat ] Right before I found myself here, my fian... I was killed, at least I think I was. I remember dying, or I think I was... I'm not to sure any more.

It seems to be, so far. If anyone's found a link, they're keeping it quiet.

[ oh man, Trish looks terrible. Heather chews at her lip for a moment, resisting the urge to ask if she's okay - she's clearly not, and the whole dying thing can mess a person up something terrible. ]

I'm sorry. I'd say at least you seem to be getting a second chance, but it'd be nice if it could happen in the Bahamas or something, right?

[ there's a pause, because she doesn't feel great about asking this, but she's got a feeling it might be relevant ]

...when you say killed, do you mean... murdered?

[ trish tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace instead. ]

Honestly, never gave much sort to this sort of thing - well, life after death since I was a kid. It being literal life though...

[ she trails off and looks at her lap for a minute or two, because at the word murdered she wants to cry again. she swallows hard, and balls her hands into fists trying to keep her cool - her nails digging and cutting into her palms. ]

Yes. [ she swallows again. ] I mean murdered.

[ ...oh, shit. ]

Damn it, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - can I bring you a cup of coffee or something?

It's okay. [ trish manages a tiny smile and runs her hand through her hair. ] You didn't know.

Ah... [ trish is about to say no, but then she realizes how alone she feels at that moment and well...what are the chances of running into another psycho killer? ] ...a coffee would be great, actually.

Now that I can do. What's your room number? And more importantly, how do you take it?

Um [ trish looks down at her tattoo before back at the screen. it's so - alien, seeing something on her arm. ] 004, 033.

Strong and black, I guess? I could use a bit of a hit.

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[ i. text ] got a knife to disengage the voids that i can't bear...

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