reverie ⚡️ overflow

[striketwice]

reverie ⚡️ overflow

feel free to move threads over yourself
or message me and I'll gladly do it

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( code edited from supersuits )

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[vecna]

[“It all happened so fast.” That’s what they all say, but Henry finds it is often more true than not. Once the first gunshot rings out, the series of events would almost be too hard to follow if he were not implanted into this memory at its core by way of his powers. He’s cognizant of every detail of every action, even if he does not move from where he stands at the back of the garage. It’s as though he can see from all angles — the men in suits rounding on Alec, the glow of another spell, the shattering bulbs and searing light, the whole city blacking out. The charred visages of men ruined by lightning. The empty look in Thomas Brennan’s eyes.

That scream, resounding through everything.

Oh, if Alec were a resident of Hawkins, young and his mind still malleable, Henry thinks this kind of grief and guilt and pain would have ripped a long tear between dimensions in one single attempt. He would have been drawn in by it, like a predator scenting blood. He would have made him one of his victims.

So it’s fortunate those were never the circumstances presented to him. Instead, this is an insight into the foundation of the man, the very moment where his life took a turn, hatred seeping in deep. Why he hates people, because “people” represents the worst moment of his life and from it, all they are capable of.

He lets him sob. Watches his shoulders shake from it. The scent of rain tainted by the city fills his nostrils. But eventually, Henry ventures forward, stopping just short of where Alec mourns his now deceased father, and crouches down beside him. With his words, he forces lucidity into this memory, the same way one might realize they're in the middle of a dream. Maybe that’s cruel — but now he’s done with only observing.]

You blame yourself for this. For all of this. Don't you?

[striketwice]

[ The moment Henry speaks, teenage Alec goes utterly, terribly still. A deep, shuddering breath, and he raises his gaze to look. A swath of bright red runs over one half of his face, none of the blood his own. Lightning flashes bright from the storm outside, and before Alec even speaks the answer is there in his eyes. Hatred, burning and white hot, and it turns inward and runs deep. So very deep.

There is no one, in this world or any other, that Alec Brennan hates more than himself. ]

It's all my fault. It was always my fault. I was the deal.

[ He would find this out later, as he set his mother up for her grand fall, but now that Henry's forced some lucidity into the situation, some of Alec's memories muddle. Correspondence between Thomas Brennan and Sabrina Cordell in the early months of her pregnancy.

Alec's life for Thomas' silence. That was always the deal. ]

[vecna]

You?

[He looks at Alec, the bright crimson running down half of his face—striking, really—and it’s no wonder this guilt burrows deep. Hatred turned inward, nestling like poison. This is a new layer of clarity, a new revelation about him, and perhaps what he needs is for someone to comfort him. To console, or to be a listening ear.

Henry’s not the person to do that. He can’t offer comfort, he was never given the toolset to do that in a sincere way for deep hurts like these. He’s only ever pushed the knife in deeper.

He doesn’t this time. But his “consoling” lacks warmth. Feels more like an observation than much else.]

From what little I’ve seen, this outcome would always have been inevitable. Your existence itself was a point of contention. You’re faulting yourself for being alive. Did you have a choice in that?

[Oh yes, he would have been… a very potent victim, this teenage Alec, so angry and guilt-laden. But it’s hard for Henry to think of that as a missed opportunity now. This is rarer, finding someone similar to himself, who lets him peruse through the darker parts of his mind.]

[striketwice]

[ The way Henry responds is almost clinical. Crisp and carefully distant, like the way he does everything, but it isn't wrong. Maybe this was always going to happen, maybe even if he and his father had the best relationship in the world.

But those "what ifs" are of little comfort now, with his father's corpse cooling beneath his hands and the storm of his anger raging outside. It will take more than a simple observation to undo the decades of damage that Alec has done to his own self-worth.

Grimly, ]

Did I have a choice? Of course not.

[ His choices begin now.

Outside, the wind begins to howl, and rainwater splashes its way in through the open mouth of the garage. Sirens blare in the distance. ]

I think you should go now.

[vecna]

[No, he imagines it will take more than a few plainly-stated sentences to undo any of the damage he's seen here today. And why would he want to? Someone so broken to the core is just like-

He stops that dangerous line of thought. That almost-admittance. Instead, the rainwater splashes in, the storm grows fiercer outside. Sirens are crying out somewhere in the distance.]

Are you sure?

[Henry reaches out with two fingers of his left hand, brushing fingertips across the red that paints Alec's skin. This touch probably isn't wanted, or even really comfortable, but since when does he care about that?]

You don't have anything else you want to show me?

[All the dark things in this head of his.]

[striketwice]

[ He flinches, just a bit, when Henry's fingertips alight on his face, but he doesn't flinch away. Just like when he turned his gaze upon the horrible, twisted thing that Henry became, it feels important not to turn away. ]

You've seen more than enough, Henry. More than anyone has ever seen.

[vecna]

[It is important not to turn away. It's important to accept every facet of Henry even when he is being less than... comforting in both words and actions. But eventually, at least, he retracts his hand, turning it over to look at the blood on his fingertips.]

Then I'll take the scenic route out. See you on the other side... eventually.

[He smiles, small and faint, and stands. His look is lingering, but then he turns to leave, choosing not to put this newfound trust into jeopardy today.

Instead, he sloshes through the rising water, ducking under the garage door, and leaves him. But not without trailing through a path of old childhood memories first.]

[striketwice]

[ As he walks away, the grisly scene behind Henry dissolves in the rainwater, washed away to instead show him scenes of the past.

Henry once offered to let Alec relive his happiest moments. Alec declined then, and it becomes abundantly clear why: there are precious, precious few of those to be found in his childhood. As Henry surmised by looking at teen Alec, he has always been angry, prone to lashing out and starting fights. His childhood is one of isolation, talking back to teachers and throwing punches at fellow students until detention is practically a second home. From the first moment another child commented on the ratty state of his secondhand clothes or teased him for not having a mom, it's always been this way.

Even the few quiet moments he and his father shared in something like happiness is tainted by what's to come. It's hard to look back on those times and see them for what they are, as guilt looms heavy over the scenes. Suddenly, the Warden labeling Alec as "an ungrateful little shit" makes a lot more sense. He never appreciated any of this until it was far too late.

Eventually, the way out opens, and Henry will emerge from the stormy, shadowy corridors of Alec's mind. ]

[vecna]

[It’s funny, he thinks, as he wanders down this fleeting path of memory. As a child, Alec could not be more different than himself when he was those same ages. Henry was a quiet one, a solitary one, and it’s more likely he would have found himself in the unwanted crosshairs of a kid like Alec rather than seek his company.

But it’s still interesting to see. The fond memories here are laced with a heavy, cloying sense of guilt and gloom, and even Henry’s not sure he could prise them apart if ever given a reason to try.

…Could he say the same for himself? His parents would buy him an overlarge cake for his birthdays. His sister would drag him down the hall of their new house and laugh, trying to show him the new places she’d discovered after they’d moved in. Family outings in the summer. Bright faces in the sunlight. These are supposed be fond memories, warm ones, but they are so laden with discontent that he’s sure they died on the vine a long, long time ago.

He supposes it’s the same for Alec. He understands.

Eventually, the path ends. Once darkness is all that surrounds him, Henry is out of Alec’s head, and they’re back in “reality” again, sitting on his bed in the man’s room. He opens his eyes.]

Alec?

[(Henry's nostril is bleeding red.)]

Welcome back. How do you feel?

[striketwice]

[ After a second, Alec's eyes blink open. He can feel a headache beginning to bloom behind his eyes, but it's not the worst he's ever had. No, what's more immediately apparent is the hollow, gnawing feeling in his chest, as thay day decades gone is made suddenly fresh again, suddenly raw. It's a miracle that he didn't come to with tears in his eyes.

He scrubs his hands over his face, trying to will the sensation away. At best, he's able to shove it down to deal with later. It'll have to do. ]

Been better.

[ He glances up at Henry, noting the bloody nose. ]

You got a little something on your face.

[vecna]

[He lifts his brow, gently. Henry doubts he’s as steady as he presents himself; not after a memory like that. It’s like opening a fresh new wound — he would know. It says something for his stubbornness? His conviction? His acting skills? That he’s playing all off as nothing.]

Hm?

[He touches right below his nose, and his fingers wet with familiar warmth.]

Oh. That’s a side-effect. Don't worry. It’s normal, though it takes so much less effort in this place to start bleeding.

[striketwice]

[ Alec is well-practiced in keeping himself together in the company of others. He'll fall apart when he's good and ready - which is to say when next he's alone. ]

Less effort? What do you mean by that?

[vecna]

I mentioned once that this prison’s made me weaker? That includes my endurance when it comes to using my powers. Too much, and I… tire. Easily.

[Turns his hand to face Alec, bloodied fingertips wiggling ever so slightly.]

This is the first sign of strain.

[striketwice]

[ He arches his brows, considering the ramifications of that. ]

So you're just living with a mini version of whatever the hell happened to us in that elevator?

[vecna]

You mean with our powers being dampened? I guess so.

[warden thought he’d be too OP or something ig]

It’s not ideal. But it’s better than not having my abilities at all.

[striketwice]

I didn't even know that kind of shit could happen.

[ He was so!! Fucking!! MAD!! ]

[vecna]

Upsetting, isn’t it? Like losing a limb.

[It wasn’t terribly jarring for Henry, though. Even if he, too, hated it.]

[striketwice]

[ He crosses his arms, and considering the way he's sitting against the headboard, he looks like a little kid about to pout. ]

I could have picked that fucking lock.

[vecna]

[Oh my god. Like a chid. like Henry has any room to talk]

The Warden’s not going to make it that easy for us. Nothing here has been.

[striketwice]

Yeah, I get that now. The stories don't really convey how royally fucked we are.

[vecna]

No. But in the end, it doesn’t change anything — we’re all going home, one way or another, Alec.

[striketwice]

One way or another, huh? I'd prefer "in on piece" at the very least.

[vecna]

[He looks a little amused.]

If I get my old body back— [weird calling his Vecna body his “old” body, now] —a few injuries don’t mean much. It'd be a small price to pay.

[For YOU Henry, what about everyone else.]

[striketwice]

Is that your preference? Looking like something that crawled out of a swamp?

[vecna]

[w o w half of fandom wants a piece of his undead vecnussy, sir]

This body’s weak. What advantage is there to that?