𐔌♡ 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝚈 ꒱ an independent roleplay blog for my original character 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐲, primarily based in the universe of 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨, ²⁰¹⁶. features multiple other verses, and is crossover friendly! he is remembered by 𝓪𝓵𝓲, ²⁹, she/her... who is mutual exclusive and open to new friends! graphics done by @alyssacommissions

she had felt pretty. for the first time in her life, the only time, she had truly felt like she could be like the other girls. walking through those gym doors had felt like the beginning of a new chapter, like she had her whole life ahead of her. now the corpses are piled against those same doors, screaming fills the smoke-thick air. makeup smudged, dress drenched in pigs blood. her beautiful blur had turned into a nightmare, had turned into something beyond herself. as she stands on stage, bodies piling up around the room, she thinks these powers were not a gift from god. she believes her mother was right, that this was witchcraft sent from satan, that this was sin. but she does not stop, she does not repent. these people have tortured her for years, have laughed in the face of her suffering. do they not deserve the same? was it not the bible that said do unto others as you would have them do unto you? this is godly, in a sense. in a sense, she is the god.

bodies fly across the room, lights flicker as fire spreads, the gymnasium coming down around her. they'll reap what they sow. that, she can promise. billy and chris are yanked from where they'd hid in the rafters, dropping to the floor with a thud and a crack. she wants them to suffer, but she doesn't have the control for that. she's too impulsive, opting for something relatively quick. more cracks as bones break, the pair becoming just another set of bodies at her feet. the screaming is getting quieter now, only a few remaining, weakly fighting against the fate they know they'll meet. tommy trips at her feet, the pair share a look that momentarily makes carrie soften. he had given her a beautiful night, he had made her feel like she belonged. but she knew who he hung around with. she knows he's friends with the ones who did it. her mother was right, she was a fool to believe this. softness drops from her face long enough to see the fear in tommy's eyes before a tilt of her head has him dropping dead.

she begins to move through the gym, through the carnage, when her eyes land on him. it brings her pause, makes her hesitate. he's unfamiliar. she does not remember cruelty from him, though she knows that a lack of memory does not mean it never happened.

@harry : “please don’t . i’m begging you .”

his words cut through the near silence, the only other sounds around them now are the roar of the fire, the crackle of electricity. she can feel it, that he's the only one left. he looks sickly, veins thick and dark. this is clearly not a recent sickness, and it only takes a moment for her to notice the hospital bracelet on his wrist. head tilts as she looks him over, tries to figure him out. clearly someone had brought him as a pity date, had pulled him from the hospital with the promise of one good night, one night of happy memories to push through the bad of the hospital. she does not pity him, does not pity anyone, but she does not move. she does not kill him. to be pitied by those who see themselves as better, to be promised a beautiful prom experience only for it to be crushed violently. she feels some level of kinship with him. these are only assumptions, she doesn't actually know that he was brought here by pity, perhaps one of the corpses on the ground was his partner, his friend, family even. the thought doesn't bother her, she does not feel for the bodies at her feet. every single one of them had been horrible to her, she would not feel remorse for their suffering.

from   the   start   of   the   night,   being   in   the   gymnasium   was   a   pipe   dream.   he'd   spent   most   of   the   last   few   years   in   the   hospital,   and   the   hospital   wasn't   a   place   to   belong   when   you're   sitting   prey.   everyone   already   treated   him   differently   when   his   cousin   disappeared,   along   with   the   other   missing   children.   it   was   like...   no   one   knew   how   to   talk   to   him   anymore.   too   much   had   happened.   too   much   was   going   on.

some   friends   still   remained,   though.   the   ones   that   stayed   even   through   hysteric   crying   and   pleading   to   save   him   from   the   clown,   who   appeared   as   an   illness   ridden   ghost   for   him,   in   a   sterile   hospital   room.   not   many   stayed,   just   a   few.

it   had   came   to   him   at   the   peak   of   his   illness,   but   somehow   he   knew   it   wasn't   sick   delusion   that   manifested   those   things   in   his   room.   but   as   easily   as   it   came,   it   one   day   stopped.   another   day,   he   was   released   for   just   the   night.   just   that   one,   special   night   that   you're   supposed   to   look   forward   to.

now,   it   was   a   vivid   nightmare.   the   screams.   the   sound   of   bodies   hitting   the   floor.   the   blood,   so   much   blood.   he   didn't   know   what   was   happening   until   it   had   happened,   and   the   worst   part   was   that   he   couldn't   do   anything.   the   friends   that   had   stayed   by   his   side   were   lost   in   the   pile   of   people,   and   the   first   kiss   that   he   had   moments   ago...   oh   god,   was   she   okay?

all   he   could   do   was   beg,   when   carrie   approached   him.   he   didn't   know   her   name,   not   yet.   he   didn't   recognize   her   face,   not   even   from   the   days   he   wasn't   kept   in   a   blindingly   white   room.   somehow,   when   their   eyes   met,   he   felt   understood.   understood,   but   still   fearful.

before   he   fell   to   the   cold   ground   of   the   parking   lot,   he'd   been   sitting   with   his   arms   wrapped   around   his   knees...   his   head   resting   on   them.   he   didn't   know   why   she   spared   him,   but   maybe   it   had   something   to   do   with   all   the   preachings   his   parents   spilled   into   his   ears   over   the   years.   maybe   something   did   protect   him.   first   from   the   sick,   then   from   the   clown,   and   now   from...

"why?"   he   coughed   out,   the   impact   of   the   fall   hurting   his   weak   lungs.   harry   looked   up   at   her,   the   blood   still   dripping   from   the   back   of   her   head   which   faced   him.   pushing   himself   up,   he   stood   strong   this   time.   for   the   first   time.   with   more   emphasis,   more   anger,   more   confusion,   "why   me?"

His smile seems to widen – Nikki relaxes, her shoulders dropping with it. She’s not often self conscious of her writing: she knows she’s good at it, but this particular story was a little out of her element... and a little private, she supposes. Harry returns with a cooler for her and she eagerly takes it; says: “thanks” --

It was awesome!

That small smile she wore spreads, her cheeks pushed up with glee. “Really?”

I like the part with the... blood and stuff. She chuckles, “I went a little overboard with that I think.”

Did you like my story?

“Yeah”, she exclaims right away, opening her drink and taking a hefty swing. “I really liked how you told it too, you had like – something about you. You were really into it. You should do public readings, you’d do great.” She holds his gaze a moment, and they're pretty, those eyes of his, flickering with the bondfire's light, then looks down, still smiling. "Thanks for inviting me by the way. I needed some time away from town."

the   blond   nods   along   with   her,   until   she   begins   to   suggest   public   speaking,   and   then   his   free   hand   raises   and   he   quickly   shakes   his   head.   "no   way,"   he   spoke   only   after   taking   a   swing   of   liquor   that   made   his   eyebrows   raise   and   furrow.   "it's   just   because   i'm,   like,   comfortable   with   you   guys."   with   a   gaze   falling   to   his   shoes   in   the   dirt,   "and   i   might've   been   trying   to   impress...   everyone."

that   last   word   is   forced,   like   it   was   a   misplaced   shelf.

he   eventually   looks   up   to   her   again,   cheeks   now   tinted   a   slight   pink.   a   toothy   smile   returns,   and   he's   back   to   nodding.   has   he   always   been   this   awkward?   "yeah,   don't   mention   it."   harry   shrugs,   really   cool-like.   "i   think   we   all   need   to   escape   once   in   a   while...   but   is   there   a   reason   for   yours or did i just catch you at the right moment?"

“... and that’s the story... I’ll tell...”, Nikki finishes ominously, the campfire reflecting its flickers in her otherwise dark eyes. She sits back down on an unfolded chair, her phone opened on the Notes app where she’d written this short story. She never thought she was very good at writing horror, or suspense, but she’s proud of this story, however strange it may be.

The place is quiet for a while, sprouting doubt now. She glances around at the people there. Should she be offended, or proud of their reaction? Then, finally, someone speaks: Harry. That’s fucked up, and again, she isn’t certain if it’s an insult or a compliment –

where'd   you   get   a   ghost   story   like   that?

She shrugs, clicking the phone off. “I wrote it a couple of months ago”, when Ian first broke up with her. She’d been crying, angry, and let it out in the form of writing – but they don’t need to know that. “-- I dunno, I don’t write these types of stories usually but I wanted to have something for the trip. Was it... okay?”

the   smile   he   wore   widens,   and   he   takes   minimal   notice   of   the   group   between   them   beginning   to   branch   off   into   their   own   conversations.   "okay?"   harry   asks,   standing   from   the   log   bench   and   walking   over   to   the   cooler.   he   grabs   two   more   drinks,   and   then   walks   over   to   her.

offering   the   cooler,   he   sits   down   beside   her.   "it   was   awesome."   he   answers,   nodding   in   agreement   with   his   own   statement.   he   struggles   a   little   bit   to   open   his   own   bottle,   but   gets   it   eventually.   he's   a   little   drunk.   "i   like   the   part   with   the...   blood   and   stuff."   he's   more   than   a   little   drunk.

their   eyes   meet   again,   and   he   admires   the   way   the   flames   dance   across   her   face.   reflect   in   her   eyes.   "did   you   like   my   story?"

IT'S LATE, later than alexei tends to stay up anymore. but the performance rink has been empty for hours now, which is exactly where he's been. haunting music playing through the speakers in the rafters, the sound of his blades scraping against the ice as he makes up choreography in his head while gliding across as if floating on air. the skater doesn't even notice someone else in the arena with him, despite his vision being better than usual due to the low lighting in the room.

IT'S NOT AS IF ALEXEI WOULD'VE HEARD THE OTHER ENTER THE ARENA ANYWAY, he's so focused on what he's doing that all he can hear is the sound of his blades cutting into the ice with the music muffled and echoing in the background. it isn't until after the music stops that the blond feels watched, everything around him suddenly getting louder. the hum from the cooling system for the ice, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above, the echoes of his skates ringing in the arena as he turns around to find who it is that's watching him.

PALE BLUE EYES FINALLY FALL ON THE ONLY OTHER BIPEDAL BEING IN THE ROOM, blinking as eyes stare at him, watching out of his peripheral as his cat sits up and stretches before sauntering across the boards to meet her owner. the man's hands only brush across the cat's fur briefly before he pulls away, moving away from the boards but keeping his eyes fixed on the other, gaze never breaking as he continues skating. alexei knows he has an audience now, why not perform for it ??

a   hood   covers   over   disrupted   blond   hair,   the   evidence   of   a   sleepless   night,   as   he   saunters   through   the   streets   with   a   gym   bag   over   his   shoulder.   headphones   on,   a   destination   to   get   to.   the   rink   is   lit   up,   he   can   see   it   for   miles   even   through   the   soft   rain   that   falls.   a   brief   glance   at   the   time,   before   he   shuts   his   phone   off   and   enters   the   lit   up   building.

harry   navigates   the   area   as   if   he   knows   it,   though   he   only   got   here   last   night.   soon,   he's   entering   the   stadium,   but   something   makes   him   pause.   he   can   hear   skates   on   the   ice,   and   begins   to   wonder   who   else   would   be   here   this   late.

eyes   fall   on   the   cat   first,   and   he   laughs   lightly.   his   presence   descends   from   the   dim   shadows   into   the   somber   lighting,   and   he   rests   his   elbows   on   the   boards   to   watch.   as   alexei   approaches   him,   their   eyes   remained   locked.   even   when   he   moves   away,   flawlessly.

his   gaze   trails   for   a   couple   seconds,   before   he   pushes   the   hood   off   and   sits   on   the   bench   to   begin   putting   on   his   skates.   it's   the   easiest   thing   he's   ever   done,   the   muscle   memory   of   tying   skates.   within   a   minute,   he's   on   the   ice   opposite   to   alexei.   harry   tries   to   ignore   him,   but   eventually   slips   over   elegantly.

"i   haven't   seen   you   in   a   while."