@amber_is_in_a_loop
(Ooh I like that. As in hallucinating he's there?
and then idk if this would work but maybe if they get bad she can go to Alice for help. And then they're talking about grief and that's how the backstory comes out. idk though)
(Ooh I like that. As in hallucinating he's there?
and then idk if this would work but maybe if they get bad she can go to Alice for help. And then they're talking about grief and that's how the backstory comes out. idk though)
(Yeah
A warning, I don't know much about hallucinations or where they stem from. I'll try to do my research, but forgive me if I'm innacurate
Exactly what I was thinking!)
(Don't worry about accuracy I'm pretty sure I'm doing a terrible job with schizophrenic accuracy so far so don't even worry about it
So do you want me to play Isobel's dad or something? Or do you just want a hallucination scene and then go straight to Alice? Or something else?)
(oof, lol
Would you mind playing Isobel's dad? I can give you a brief description of him, if you'd like)
(Yup, go ahead)
David Baruch, was 52 when he died. Greying, short chestnut hair, visible stubble, large, dark eyes like Isobel’s. 6’0”, fairly muscular in build, gentle smile.
Always the less strict of her parents, a joker, soft, kind and sensitive. Ridiculously stubborn, hardworking, almost never got angry, forgave too easily
(OK great! Specific hallucination you want or should we make it up as we go?)
(make it up, I guess?)
(alright. You start?)
(Sure
Any specific way you want to do this? Should she just be eating or smtg?)
(Up to you I'd say. Maybe some sort of Proust trigger)
(you good?)
(Yeah sorry
I’ve been neglecting almost half my rps…. just stress and stuff and I can only handle a certain number at a time. Sorry)
Isobel had been sitting at her kitchen table, frozen in place, for the past hour. In her trembling, white-knuckled hands, she gripped a framed photograph. Her eyes went straight over each female figure depicted, skimmed over every child and every grandmother….. until they landed on him. David.
Tears pricked her eyes.
(Don't even worry about it! Take your time, don't take on too much at once I'm patient ^^')
_David took a few slow steps towards his daughter as she sat back to him. He knelt by her chair and, gently, put a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm here," he said quietly.
(it's fine, dw about it, I'll try to be more consistent)
Isobel's head jerked sideways. A scream tore itself loose from her lips. No—This wasn't possible. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be here.
David didn't move away. He grabbed his daughter by the wrist, pulling her close enough to stare at her levelly, a pained expression on his face. "I'm sorry."
"D-Dad?" It was as if her heart didn't know whether to splinter and crack further, or slowly knit itself back together. "How–How are you here?"
Was she dying? Dreaming? Seeing ghosts? Isobel didn't know what to think anymore.
"That doesn't matter. Know I love you, honey. I figured this might be hard on you. But I'm still here!" he said cheerfully, brushing his daughter's hair back. "I'm here."
Isobel practically broke down, crumbling into nothing but a trembling, sobbing mess. “D-Dad—“
David sank to his knees, taking his daughter with him, arms tight around her neck. "Let it out, honey. I've got you now. I love you." He gently stroked her hair.
Isobel buried her face in his chest, sinking into the embrace. “H-How are you here?” she hiccuped, struggling to keep the ocean of tears from spilling down her face.
He tucked her hair behind her ear and tilted her head towrads him, wiping away her tears with the corner of his white shirt.
"That doesn't matter," he said softly, just as kindly as everything else he'd said so far. "How are you doing?"
“Of course it matters,” she choked out, reaching forwards to place a hand over his heart. Was it beating?
David slid his own hand between Isobel's and his chest and lifted her hand away, wearing a consistently paternal smile.
Isobel broke away, scrambling to stand up. “This—This can’t be happening.”
David's smile slipped a little bit. "What makes you say that?"
"You're dead." She raised a hand in front of her face and clenched the fingers into a fists. "I–I watched them bury you. I poured a handful of dirt over your grave. There's no way–You can't be here."
"You were always so grown up, weren't you," David reminisced quietly. "There are all kinds of real. It's up to you to decide which kind this is, sweetheart." He sat down on the floor, cross-legged, and patted the floor next to him.
Isobel backed away slowly. “Dad—I wish I could say that I believe you—“
"I'm sorry it had to this way, then." David stood up. "I'd so hoped you could set aside common sense to see me again." He walked up to his daughter and pulled into a tight hug. "I love you, Isobel. Good luck."
And he disappeared.
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