Fₑᵥₑᵣ Dᵣₑₐₘ

He's said that he doesn't care, but that's not exactly true. He doesn't care about the little things, about the feelings, about the bickering and the hand holding, but that doesn't mean that he won't help. He will always help. There is a girl that may or may or may not be dead in a mall that lives and breathes that wants to keep her trapped, that may or may not have had a part in her death. What choice does he have to be here with her? To help?

If this isn't a job for the Doctor, he doesn't know what is.

The music is louder now, and that worries him. The mall--or perhaps he should think about it like she does, the Mall--is growing restless. It's probably not a good idea to state his plans so openly, but what difference does it really make? They're trapped within it, within her. (He will accept the turn of mall to Mall, but he will not allow her to become Her.) It would take only a moment for her to figure out what he has in mind, and once she knows, they'll be at her mercy either way.

His eyes turn upwards again as the music screeches, and he takes a step close to Becky. It's protective, and perhaps, in a way, possessive. The Doctor is staking claim, not as possession, of course, but as cause. And it has never done anyone any good to get in the way of the Doctor's cause. But what can he do against tentacles of smoke? He has no weapons. He has nothing but a very angry Mall and a frightened girl. A frightened ghost, he might say, if he believed in that sort of thing. But ghosts aren't so much a problem as the very real tentacles that grip them.

(Or, the tentacles that seem real. He won't say that it's impossible that it's some sort of illusion, some kind of trick. Or it's real, and the thing that lives beneath the pitted plaster walling is far more hideous than the flashing lights and colorful signs suggest. He thinks he would prefer the former, but knows the chances, knowing the way his chances like to go, tilt towards the latter.)

Either way, the Doctor has his answer. It makes him sad to know that there was going to be a fight. That there always had to be a fight. The sound shocks through the room, the room darkens, and the Doctor has reached out, wanting to push Becky behind him, but, well, the tentacles make it hard for that to be anything more than a gesture. The other hand reaches back within his jacket for the sunglasses, putting them on to see exactly what he expects. The exact biology of the Mall may be unknown to him, but she is angry.

"It's okay," he says to Becky, to the Mall, to both of them. The Doctor is here, and he's going to save the day. The Doctor is here, and he's going to fix it. He looks to Becky as she moves, and his own hand dangling in the air where she was before he drops it, exchanging it for the other as he presses it to the wall. It feels alive. If it was a mall before, it is now something living that wears the face of one--which was always true, but now he can feel it. Becky's at the door, and the Doctor waits, the second hand coming to join the first.

Anger, rage, indignation: it holds a smell, like freshly fired gun powder, blacked by the blast. It also has a coppery hint akin to blood: blood that may or may not run into the walls of the Mall. Becky has never felt it so potent; sticks to her like a film, a second epidermis. Her teeth fill with static. Her bones with hot coals.

The Doctor can smell it too, feel it too. It takes over into his veins, pushes into his hearts. The static rolls across his palm as he presses his hand to the wall – warm like the insides of a fresh body. Wet with sweat pushed from concrete like tears... It’s okay, The Doctor urges, and Becky holds her breath, frozen a moment too long. She’s never seen Her this angry, engorged with wrath. How many have claimed they could take her away, and then perished, if not by the Mall’s games, then her own... She wonders if perhaps this rage is really fear. Perhaps The Doctor, with his extra organs and his strange blue box, does have the ability to rip her away from this place... What does fear smell like? She knows this: sour. Old milk left to the dog day sun: a stink both subtle and strong enough to water one’s eyes – yes, it’s there, that scent, past the static, past the copper. Whitefield Heights is afraid.

Listen to me. Becky listens. Whitefield Heights groans around them. I am the Doctor, and I command that you listen. Silence. It's going to be okay. You're frightened, and you're hurt, but she isn't yours. You can't keep her if she doesn't want to stay.

More silence. At first, Rebecca thinks it’s considering, but the coppery perfume surrounding them only thickens, sour milk forced into her nostrils and she can’t help it: she gags, bringing her hand to her mouth. The quiet begins oppressing, encasing them, and she approaches The Doctor on instinct, responding to the protectiveness. A drop drips into a puddle somewhere. Plink! Its sound carries like a gunshot in the emptiness... and then, suddenly, beneath both he and the wraith, the floor collapses into a large, bright green and plastic slide. They fall. Slide down with a shriek ripped from her lungs. A bright light first blinds her, then she drops into a pit of colorful bouncing balls. She drowns in them, pushes them away, whining as she does so, until finally her head pokes past the surface of the pool and the sea of playing balls. Red, blue, green and yellow move around her – above, the lights are the bright rectangles of office floors, buzzing like swarms of bees above.

“D-Doctor? Doctor!”, she calls.

❝ you think so? ❞ the control devil’s head tilts, hypnotising eyes angling up to meet rebecca’s. the yellow and red spirals beautifully, as expected by one of the four horsemen. she notices the way that the other looks at it, stares as if the feature acts as a gateway between the two. ❝ there’s no reason for you to yearn for it. i don’t mind if you touch it. ❞

You think so?

“Mhmmm!” It’s so red, like blood, and Becky’s stomach growls. She’s hungry: it’s been a while since she last ate... This constant hunger feels like it’s eating her from the inside.

I don’t mind if you touch it.

“No?” She’s surprised: most people would tell a stranger to fuck right off – with good reason. But not this one. She reaches, first tentatively, taking the long braid between her fingers. The woman’s hair is soft as silk and warm, as though alive, like beneath the curled strands hides veins, viscera, blood. She caresses along the length of the braid: it's tied perfectly, with hardly a single floating hair...

Becky glances up, slowly, looking into those golden eyes, twirling twirling twirling, and says: “You’re nn-not human.”

𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙨

ᄏ: Play any instruments?

ω: Have you ever dyed your hair? If so, what color(s)?

△: Have you ever painted the walls of your room?

【・ヘ・?】: Ever tripped in front a bunch of people?

＊: When was the last time you tied your hair up? (if your hair is long enough)

旦: Last time you drove your car (if you can drive/have one)?

愛: Are you currently dating?

太: When it’s New Year’s, do you make New Year Resolutions and actually commit to them?

＠: Ever felt attracted to the opposite sex before?

空: Did you ever throw up after one roller coaster ride or a few?

☆: Have you ever played games such as ‘Spin the Bottle’?

⊙: Are you happy with where you are in life right now?

ピ: Did you like Pokemon as a child?

♪: Do you find yourself singing or humming to yourself sometimes?

☁: Ever wanted to learn a foreign language?

ス: Have you ever swallowed gum?

⅚: Post the link if your current favorite song.

ღ: Post a gif of what you’re currently feeling right now.

≘: Have you ever watched the sun rise?

☄: Would you defend a friend if they were in danger?

➍: Ever been to a concert? Was it fun?

♛: Do you like group projects?

高: How often do you use headphones/earbuds?

ಲ: Headphones or earbuds?

♞: Showers or baths?

✗: Walks on the beach or in a forest?

⊙﹏⊙: Which horror movie scared you the most? If any?

^∇^: Has your best friend ever made you angry?

（．＿．）: Do you think you are an awkward person?

メ: Cupcakes or muffins?

♯: Would you like to be able to fly?

ℝ: What color shirt are you currently wearing?

Æ: What color underwear did you wear yesterday?

☪: Have you ever flipped off someone?

♬: Cats or dogs?

礼: Would you swim in the lake or ocean?

の: Chocolate or Vanilla?

◐: Have you ever seen a meteor shower?

ᄇ: Have you ever broken a bone?

ℨ: If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?

♔: Know the Duck Song? The Llama Song? Banana Phone?

۞: What shows did you watch when you were a child?

▼: Could you live without the internet?

Д: Strangest food you’ve eaten?

󠀠󠀠⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀󠀠 ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɴᴇʟ

#CHANNEL3 ⃤⃟⃝ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ― an indie, private, selective exclusively oc multimuse. 25+. Extreme triggering themes present. Dead dove, do not eat. No AI. Programmed by Liminal. (40+ she/her). Please read rules before interacting. Graphics: ©

Before Herbert can respond, Dan jumps in, shooting him a warning look. "No, we aren't. Right now we are just going to try to get a better picture of what's happening to you so we can figure out which direction we want to go." If left unchecked, Herbert will runaway-train the entire situation, like he always does. This poor girl has been through enough.

"You said just before the accident?" It wasn't an accident, most likely. It sounds like straight-up murder. But it should have some sort of name that isn't just 'dying the first time.' "I know you don't remember much, but do you know how you got to the mall in the first place?"

This interjection earns Dan a glare, but Herbert continues scribbling away in his notebook. He most certainly had been intending to use all sorts of tools on this woman today. She needed answers, not niceties. Dan is too concerned about saving someone's feelings. He doesn't understand that she is a desperate woman. One that hardly flinches when stabbing herself through the hand. She doesn't need to be babied.

No, we aren’t.

Rebecca feels herself relax, both from relief and a hint of disappointment. Surely, to understand what’s going on with her, extremes must be taken. The pain might be worth it if she’s allowed to cross over.

But, in truth, she likes this new guy – he’s not a stone wall, for one – seems to hold more empathy than Dr.West. It’s amazing they even work together, but in a sense, she also notes they may compliment each other, set up boundaries for one another because alone, they would be far more thorough.

I know you don't remember much, but do you know how you got to the mall in the first place? She looks down, digging into her thoughts, her memories. She remembers the attic she was in, hints of lights in the shadows passing by quickly next – a car? She’d been taken there. “I think... He drove mm-me to it. I wasn’t... I don’t think I was dead by the time I got to the mm-mall, but I was close.” She hugs herself, visibly shivering, goose flesh rising on her arms – nails dig into the skin – she remembers pain, then the absence of it as her body went into shock. She remembers the oyster cracked sound her limbs made as they were being pulled apart, chopped and amputated. “Blood loss”, she hums like a dream, “I think it was blood loss that did it...” She swallows, her entire body rigid and her jaw tight enough to hurt her teeth.

“You probably won’t believe mm-me when I say this, but that mm-mall? It doesn’t stay in one place. Sometimes it lets mm-me out, like nn-now, and it’s nuh-hever in the same place. It’s the longest I’ve been away from it.” She worries it will call her back and she’ll vanish without answers, without a resolution. “It’s like it’s alive – and it’s keeping me ‘alive’”, she thinks aloud, making the dents around the word with her fingers. It’s keeping me alive.