Gregory House, MD (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rubikscomplex) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindrpg2016-01-24 08:08 pm
rubikscomplex) wrote in snowblindrpg2016-01-24 08:08 pm
[log] Cat Scratch Fever [closed]
Characters: House, Ginger, Leon, and Enoch
Location T4 - Building 83 (crazy cat lady's house) and R4 - Building 87
Date: Night 80 - Night 84
Summary: Event post! House, Ginger, and Leon meet up at the cat lady house only for three monsters to turn up all at once just before lockdown. And meeting up with Enoch after the event.
Warnings: Body horror for the monsters, House being himself, and probably Ginger crying
Location T4 - Building 83 (crazy cat lady's house) and R4 - Building 87
Date: Night 80 - Night 84
Summary: Event post! House, Ginger, and Leon meet up at the cat lady house only for three monsters to turn up all at once just before lockdown. And meeting up with Enoch after the event.
Warnings: Body horror for the monsters, House being himself, and probably Ginger crying
Monster Arrival and Beyond
Someone will need to jump forward to hold the window down and keep their friends out. At least the monsters seem to be tracking the movements and location inside of the occupants and trying to get at them through the closest means possible rather than the most efficient.]
How many are there?
[Even blind, House has a good idea of what's happening. He doesn't need to ask what's going on. He also has absolutely no desire to deal with this.]
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When the nails-on-glass pierces the air, it's probably the fastest Ginger has ever gotten to her feet and dropped her sewing. The window is just starting to lift as she reaches it and slams it back down with all the strength she can muster. Shadows shift and move in the gloom outside. Through the frost, at first she can't make them out. But she can count, at least.]
Three, there's...
[Whatever she was planning on saying turns into a choke as the thought sputters to an abrupt halt. One of the scrabbling monsters presses itself up against the glass, as if it senses Ginger specifically and is trying to make itself known.
Ginger would have been terrified no matter what. She's not good at this whole monster thing. Even having only run into one so far, she's been trying to forget it. The thing was terrible, disgusting, horrible. There's no way she could have imagined something worse. But this is much, much worse.
Ginger feels a scream rising in her throat, like a balloon about to burst out of her skin, ripping her to pieces--but that's not what comes out. Somehow, all that squeaks its way out is a whimper.]
Emma?
[Because it's her sister--it's Emmaline--it's Emma. But she's deathly, her skin gray and sunken, her eyes melting down her face and foam spilling endlessly from a dislocated jaw. Her similarly blonde hair clinging lifeless and wet to shoulders jutted awkwardly with the pearly white shards of broken bone poking in unnatural angles.
And it wheezes at her, a wet gurgling wheeze, a noise that sounds almost desperate and pained. Ginger can hear it acutely above the whipping of wind and snow.
hhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAA...
Ginger stumbles backward away from the window, her hands whipping up to cover her mouth, holding back emotions she's never felt before, feelings she can't describe, and so much disgust, so much sick. But then the monster-that-looks-like-Emma starts to open the window again, so Ginger forces herself to slam it back shut, holding it as best as she can. She closes her eyes so she doesn't have to stare at it, hoping please oh please for lockdown to take over for her. She's not strong enough to hold them for long.]
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That thought in mind, the doctor rolls over on the bed and all but drops off of it. He's mindful of the fact - even in the haze right now - that he needs to keep up the ruse with his leg and drags himself over toward the sound of Ginger's voice rather than pushing himself up and lunging properly. It's a few seconds of blind searching, likely prodding her at least once by accident, before his hand finds the window. He adds his own strength to hers and, surprisingly, perhaps, offers words of encouragement in his best bedside manner voice. He really doesn't want to die.]
It's almost lockdown, Ginger. I need you to keep holding. Whatever that is out there, it's not Emma, okay?
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In any case, in light of his mood the whole evening, and maybe because she's been getting a bit of sass from some other people, too, she's not expecting him to say anything kind. Or help. And this is both of those things. Sure, it's in all of their best interests for the window to stay shut, but that doesn't make his words have any less of an impact on her ears.
Ginger takes a deep breath, forcing herself to crack open her eyes so she can look at House. Remembering that he wouldn't be able to see her nod, she makes herself give him a verbal response.]
Okay.
[The small, one-word sentence isn't a terribly convincing response. She knows she wants that sentiment to be true. But how can there be something out there that looks so much like her? It shouldn't be possible. And it's so cruel. Convincing doesn't matter though. What matters is that Ginger doesn't stop holding, even if her arms are shaking. At least with House's help, it doesnt' feel like such an uphill battle.]
I won't let go.
[But the nails scratch at the window, persistent and so close it's a struggle not to let her eyes back onto it.]
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[Pointless small talk is only pointless when he's not trying to distract someone from completely freaking out on him. It's not going to stop her answer from being mind-numbing, but he'll tolerate it for the moment.]
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I was making you some socks, like I said I would when we met. Leon and I found a decent amount of fabric the other day.
[Her fingers hurt. She curls them up, pressing the butt of her palms more harshly into the windowsill.]
I thought you could use something since I can't give you your medicine right now, even though I know that's what you really need and this won't make you feel much better.
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He can't stand sentiment. But all of that is suppressed.]
I don't usually get gifts... Where'd you get the fabric?