Post by Lisa Sherwood on Sept 13, 2021 17:13:43 GMT
The swamp is quiet tonight. The rustling of the fake bird's feathers is the only sound other than Lisa's footsteps as she patrols, checking for hooks or chests or totems - any indication that a trial is coming. Nothing is found as she follows the trails around the hills and streams, so she allows herself to relax as she climbs back into the boat that is her home. This part she boards up each trial, ensuring no survivors try to hide in her space. The swamp is hers temporarily, always given back to the entity's whims and rearranged whenever it wishes. Her room is hers always.
Lisa stiffens as a proximity sigil activates, shooting up an ethereal copy of herself in front of whoever is trespassing. She tips her head to the side and licks her lips, wondering if it's a survivor or a killer that has come to play. The bloodthirst is strong today. She almost wishes there was a trial, so she has an excuse to be violent and rageful and angry at everyone who comes near her. But, she does not. And the entity will surely punish her if she goes too far.
With that in mind, she lets the copy fade without using her power, letting whoever set the sigil trap off wander onward as she climbs up onto the second floor of the boat to look out over the swamp. A few birds fly up, and she looks over.
The blond boy. The new one. She doesn't know his name, but he is a police officer? He at least wears the uniform of one. He's wandering through her swamp, covered in mud and muck. She has to breathe deeply to avoid laughing when he stumbles over a root. Continuing to watch, she waits for him to approach.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 14, 2021 8:52:51 GMT
Leon wanted to get a better understanding of the realms. It was why he had trekked so far away from the Survivor's Campfire and wandered into Backwater Swamp. He already knows the halls of the R.P.D well (too well), and he had felt confident in his knowledge of the Yamaoka Estate. He decided to pick the swamp as he next place of exploration on a whim, and felt the need to explore because everything was so difficult to find in such a murky and rough terrain, especially the hex totems and hatch. While the other realms seemed to have some consistency, the swamp had a reputation for throwing survivors off balance with just how random everything felt.
Christ, this place stinks, he thinks absentmindedly. It wasn't like rot and death, which was the typical, but instead like summer heat and mud and god knows what. He doesn't know which is worse. He doesn't have the time to decide, however, because another step forward and he was met with the face of The Hag.
"SHIT!" He curses, stumbling back from something so unexpected and prepares to burst into a sprint back to the campfire. Wait... He stops to stare at The Hag's decrepit form, unmoving with a blank face until it disappears. It must have been one of her traps. She didn't teleport to it, thank god, but it means that she's aware of his presence.
What if she's coming? I have to hide. Thankfully, the swamp was filled with various rotting structures, the closest being the large boat that always had a generator in trials. I should be able to get there in time before she sees me, but I have to be fast. But that led to the question of where she was. If he triggered the trap but she didn't teleport to it, maybe she was out of range? And if she was, then she should be no where in sight. There wasn't any reason to not teleport to the phantasm. He stays low to the ground and moves as swiftly as he can with his heels sinking into mud. There was a stupid tree root he tripped over before he made it to the base of the boat, taking a careful step inside and cringing at the creaking of the wood that was far too loud for his comfort. He has to choose his footing carefully, or else he'll alert The Hag and become an afternoon snack.
Post by Lisa Sherwood on Sept 14, 2021 17:15:55 GMT
He was coming for the boat. That was fair. He wanted to get a vantage point of the swamp, perhaps. And of course he'd pick her boat. Her home. She stifled a hiss and ducked into the shadows, watching as he approached.
Lisa has no traps inside the boat. Her home is open, not boarded up. Her fireplace is crackling. No doubt her room looks inviting to the survivor. She crawls across the deck and freezes when she causes a creaking sound. Damn. She doesn't want him to know she's here. Not just yet.
But... he's in her home. HER home. She has a right to protect herself. The entity can't punish her for attacking him if it is self-defense, can it?
Her bones creak with the movements of the ship as a wind whistles over the swamp. The entity isn't watching them. At least, not closely. If Lisa wishes to keep it that way, she must keep the survivor calm. High emotions summon the entity faster than a survivor on a hook for the third time. She waits to see if he's noticed her sound, quiet on the top deck.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 18, 2021 3:01:35 GMT
When Leon heard the creaking of wood not caused by his own movements, he stopped, blood running ice cold. Shit, am I not alone? Was The Hag already here, or was it just the paranoia? It could've been one of the crows that usually perches itself on the roof of the boat during trials, or a rat taking shelter. Still, he's rather not take his chances. If it was The Hag, then she must know he's already here, or at least in the general area. Maybe she knew that he would attempt to try and find a hiding place, and judging by the fact that this is her realm, she knew that he would come here. Just my luck...
He's able to pin point the source of the sound being above him, so that must mean what ever's here is on the upper deck. He bites his inner cheek and curses. If it's The Hag, that means she'd be able to see him leave and potentially chase after him. He needs a good hiding place and wait it out, wait for the perfect moment to leave and go unnoticed. He carefully makes his way around the pile of barrels and slips behind them, staying on high alert for any further noise. If anything ever came close to him, he may be able to make it around the back of the boat without causing too much of a noticeable scuffle. It wasn't the best or most secure hiding place, but at least he has multiple escape options which he appreciated. One thing about The Hag was that she was very distinct. She had a recognisable silhouette, an awkward gait and peculiar, almost gargling way of breathing, so he'd be able to identify her most likely with any of his senses.
Please just go away, he thinks, feeling the cold beads of sweat cling to the back of his neck. I'm definitely not here. Just leave me alone.
Post by Lisa Sherwood on Sept 18, 2021 4:24:23 GMT
Lisa is not pleased. This man, this survivor is in her boat. In her home, just feet away from her bed and her things and her private space. She hears the survivor muffle a curse. He starts to stink of fear.
She sighs. She's not angry anymore. He's scared of her, of course. He's scared. She's not going to hurt him outside a trial, she knows that in her bones. Even with her rage, she won't. There's nothing compelling her to. Lisa makes a decision and steps forward to drop down into the main room of the boat. Her joints creak and she groans in pain, landing heavily on her knees and staying there for a moment before pushing herself up with a growling breath.
"Come out," She snarls, hoping he understands her. "Won't hurt you. Come out." She knows where he is - she can hear his breathing. But she won't force him out. If he comes out before she loses patience.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 18, 2021 6:06:46 GMT
Fuck, what do I even do? Leon could feel his own panic rise in his throat. He's never truly interacted with The Hag before outside of trials, and he's never heard of any survivor who has. Can he trust her? How could he in such a position? He's been ripped open by jagged claws more times by this woman than a licker back at the R.P.D, and he's been snagged quite a few times by the creatures. You could just never be sure with anyone in this place, the mistrust of seemingly everything around you, knowing that the very oxygen you breathe is probably fake and a piss poor replica of actual air by the Entity. It hurts, not being able to fully trust anybody, but it was nothing new even before his life was forever changed. Even so, Leon so desperately believed in the good of humanity, and trusted people regardless of it, even if he knows he shouldn't.
I could come out, keep hiding, or run for it, Leon reasons to himself and weighs the pros and cons of all options. If I come out, she could easily kill me in no time, but she could be telling the truth. If I keep hiding, she might find me, and if she does she'll probably be pissed. If I run for it, I'll probably trigger another trap, and she'll be even more pissed... Fuck. I don't really have a choice, do I?
He clenches his fists and tentatively stands from where he's crouched behind the barrels, gingerly approaching The Hag. He doesn't ever think he'll grow accustomed to her crippled body, her hunch surely putting a strain on her spine and bones jutting out under near rotting skin. She was like a zombie but more monstrous, her eyes completely sunken away, sharps claws and inhuman teeth. When he had first caught sight of her from afar, he had almost mistaken her for a zombie.
Leon pushes the thought away and stands in front of The Hag, keeping a good few meters in between them if he ever needed to make a break for it. He keeps himself guarded, ready to fight back at any sudden move to attack him, even if he's outmatched without any proper weapons.
"Alright - you got me, now what?" Leon says, keeping his voice level. "I'm sure you didn't find me to sing Kumbaya around a boy scout bonfire."
Post by Lisa Sherwood on Sept 18, 2021 6:38:27 GMT
Lisa watches him stand and approach. She's both relieved and annoyed to see that he hadn't even tried to reach her room. A small part of her feels indignant. She likes her room.
He keeps his distance from her. That's fine. Lisa doesn't mind at all, except he's between her and her room, And in her room is her somewhat-comfortable hammock and her back is really hurting. She'd like to sit down. She sways, slightly, and catches ahold of one of the barrels to lean on.
No, back to the man. She shouldn't let herself get distracted. Just because the entity isn't there to force her to snarl through pain doesn't mean she can't do it. "Why are you here?" She asks him, spacing each word out so that he'll hopefully understand. "My home. Entity send you?"
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 18, 2021 13:16:30 GMT
"I- uh... I'm here... because I'm new?" Leon says. Fuck, that was lame. "The campfire is an old scene. Decided to go sight seeing." Nice save, Kennedy.
Why would I even care of what The Hag thinks of me? Leon asks himself, suddenly taken back but his brain's thought process. It's only just slightly embarrassing, he tells himself, to which it isn't entirely a lie, but not the truth either. He's come to, very slowly, understand that some killers are not the monsters the Entity shapes them to be.
He didn't miss the way The Hag had stumbled over herself and cling to the rack of barrels beside them. It almost didn't surprise him, seeing how thin and hunched over she was. What had even happened to her to cause such malnutrition and rotting to occur? Was it something the Entity did to her, or was it before then and her battered form had been carried over and stuck as is permanently. It looked painful to live like that if she really was feeling it, and Leon let himself soften in this moment. If she wasn't faking it and really was hurt, which Leon believed, then she wasn't a threat.
"Are you hurt?" He asks, still letting that surprise seep into his voice however. Does the Entity force her to go into trials like this? He thinks to himself, feeling sympathy. I didn't even think she was in pain until now. That's so... That's so sad. Are most killers like this?
Post by Lisa Sherwood on Sept 18, 2021 20:54:58 GMT
He's new. Hm. Yes, that makes sense. Lisa's only started seeing this one recently. So, he's exploring the realm? The fear hasn't really been beaten in to him, she supposes. He seems almost embarrassed by his words, she notices. Curious. She leans on the barrels shamelessly as she watches him, and he watches her right back, looking at her and really seeing her for the first time.
He's seeing her as a person.
He asks if she's hurt. She smiles bitterly, not that it really works on her face. "Always," She replies, and gestures to herself. "You think this is comfortable? No. But today hurts more than usual."
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 21, 2021 9:39:44 GMT
Leon doesn't know what to do. On one hand, he's scared of her. He has every right to be scared and angry and upset with her because she's hurt him before so many times just like all other killers, and he is so sick of hurting. On the other, she's hurting too, maybe not like him, but maybe just as bad. It was unfair on both sides, and the thought of having no choice but to be wary of someone who might be in just as much pain as he is hurts. I want to help you, but I don't know how, Leon thinks sadly. You've hurt me so much in the past, but now I don't know how to feel about you, or the other killers in general. It shouldn't be this hard to get a grip. It should be black and white - murder makes you evil, and that's that. But morals didn't exist in the fog like it does back in the real world, and everything was twisted until you could no longer recognize anything, not even yourself.
"I- I'm sorry, do you... want to sit down, or...?" Fuck, what can I even do? "Do you have anything around to help you? There's gotta be something."
Even if there was no medical supplies in close proximity, he could always go back to the Survivor's Campfire for some decent supplies to help with The Hag's pain, and maybe get her some food as well. She looked so thin, and Leon couldn't imagine how tired and weak she must feel all the time. And maybe there was something to help with her back, like a cream to reduce inflammation, or something to numb the pain.
Post by Lisa Sherwood on Sept 26, 2021 2:43:59 GMT
"I'll be okay..." She sits down heavily, too relieved to be embarrassed. "The damp. Makes it worse. Keep my room dry." She tries to explain, gesturing behind Leon to the doorway. It's normally boarded up in trials, so no doubt he hasn't noticed, but inside is a small room with a hammock slung up on the wall and a fire burning in one of those metal bins that seem to appear everywhere. All the cracks are boarded or stuffed up with dry grasses, leaves or scraps of canvas.
Lisa's had a lot of time in the entity's realm to decorate the one place she calls her own. Her room. Her home.
She's never shown a survivor before. She has a moment of indecision. Should she have? What if he destroys it? What if he takes it from her?!
While she doesn't realize, she starts to panic, breathing faster and shivering.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 28, 2021 10:26:13 GMT
Leon didn't miss the way The Hag's demeanour changed. For the slightest second, he prepared himself for an oncoming attack, for The Hag to try and drive him out of her swamp. It was an instinct carved into his brain for his survival, and even though it wasn't his fault, he still felt bad for the urge to run away after realising that The Hag had no intention to hurt him. But was she scared? Is that what her ragged breathing was? Or was it the pain, because why would she be scared?
"Woah, hey, hey, let's get you some place to sit down, " Leon says, trying to make his voice to sound as soothing as possible. He didn't want to antagonise The Hag and feared that he sounded condescending, but he felt he didn't have enough time to think about that right now. "Deep breaths should help with the pain." He glances around and decides that her room would be the best place for her to be right now. "Here - let me help you to your room."
He carefully holds out his arm for her to grab his shoulder, giving her time to reject his offer. The hammock seems comfortable enough, and whatever supplies she needed he could readily give her. But would she appreciate his help, or would she take this as an opportunity to strike? He didn't want to feel like she has to distrust him, feel like he's some kind of threat, which he finds painfully ironic given his circumstances. He doesn't want to make her mad or lash out at him because he'd rather keep all his limbs, but also because it was a perfect opportunity to learn more about the realms and The Hag herself. So he keeps an eye on her stance, waiting for her to make a move, keeping his eyes kind but focused and alert all the same. He just hoped his trepidation wasn't apparent.
Lisa's not sure how to react to that, but she doesn't have control over her shaking legs, or the way she stumbles forward and grabs his shoulder, leaning her light weight on Leon's strong form. He's larger than her and can certainly take it, even if she gets him a bit muddy. She doesn't dig her claws in, trusting him in a way she hasn't trusted anyone in a long while as she steps closer, lets him guide her into her room.
She hurts. Entity's claws, she hurts. The pain isn't often this bad, but she can barely think through it as she stumbles over to her hammock and slides in, laying back with a sigh.
Lying down helps. It takes the pressure off her shoulders and back. She watches Leon sharply still, but she can't help but start to relax. "Red tin, pain herbs." She rasps, pointing to the shelf beside the barrel fire. "I can chew them."
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Oct 3, 2021 12:22:58 GMT
Leon swallows and nods, quickly making his way over to where The Hag pointed. He finds the red tin with ease thanks to the way it stands out above everything else and brings it back to the the hammock she lays in, opening the tin for her since it must be difficult to fiddle with smaller objects because of her claws. It was funny of how much the herbs reminded him of Raccoon City - because everything has to remind him of Raccoon City, of course - because they were littered around the place as a resource for the civilians seeking shelter in case they got hurt, their medical supplies running thin due to the amount of casualties. The medicinal herbs he found didn't solve all his problems, but they soothed the pain in his sore back after being thrown around by Dr. Birkin and the Tyrant multiple times, as well as helping with any swelling and inflammation. He also remembers when he was down in the sewers and one of the sewer monsters had grabbed him, confused before the thing threw up on his face. After his close encounter, his throat closed up and the world began to sway, unable to get air into his lungs no matter how much he coughed and hacked up bile. The blue herbs, however, was a natural antidote and anti-toxin which had saved his life.
"Here, I hope this does the trick, " Leon says while offering her the tin, an unsteady but kind smile on his lips. He doesn't recognize the plants when he glances down to see what kind of herbs they are, so maybe he'd ask someone more knowledgeable of the realms later. She's probably in so much pain right now. I should distract her, he thinks, looking at her thin body and wincing at the state she's in. "Guess this is a good as time as any to introduce ourselves. I'm Leon Kennedy. What's your name?"
Lisa takes the tin, levering the lid off with a single claw, and pokes through it, her hand shaking. Leaves, unidentifiable to most, fill the tin. They are shredded into small pieces, so she takes a pinch and puts them in her mouth, grimacing, chewing and swallowing quickly. They certainly don't taste good. She closes the tin carefully and puts it to the side, closing her eyes and laying back while she waits for it to take effect. Luckily for her, the entity does not know how painkillers work, so as long as she believes very strongly that it should help, it probably will.
"Lisa," She replies shortly, realizing he asked a question. "Sherwood. Thank you." She speaks stiffly, paying close attention to Leon as he stands awkwardly in her space. "You can sit," she adds, gesturing to a low barrel beside the bed. It's odd, being a host to a guest. Her home isn't exactly the most friendly for others - it's tight and low-ceilinged and arranged for as little air flow as possible, to try and keep the damp out. But it's hers, and it's kind of nice to see someone else in it. Someone she could possibly class as a friend.
Lisa's not sure how she feels about having a friend.