Tyler

Crestwood Hollow

I apologise for the quality of my post. I'm on the mend but still nowhere near 100%, so I hope you can forgive me. I just really wanted to get something posted so that I was not left out of the action further down the line.

Crestwood Hollow

A I D E N M c K E N N A

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^{The night of the dance, The McKenna Household}

Dinner in the McKenna household had become something of a solemn fair in recent months. Each night, the tragedy played out in the same way: Hugh McKenna moved his cutlery with military precision, clinking against the china with force as his eyes fixed themselves upon the wall-mounted T.V. set. With each mouthful, he said nothing. Amélie McKenna sipped droplets of wine from her glass in between each dainty bite, looking between her husband and son awkwardly in search of some conversation. She would clear her throat, but say nothing. And of course, Aiden, who barely ate any of the food his parents put before him. He had previously at least made some effort to show interest in the meals, moving the meat around his plate laboriously, but tonight even this charade had dissipated. Instead, he simply sat, and said nothing. In fact, the solitary audible voice in the whole house belonged to the news anchor, whose face illuminated the television screen.

"And finally, police have issued a statement this afternoon regarding the recent fire in the Mather Memorial Park, which left a good portion of woodland destroyed," he said, with the same plastic tone worn by any anchor in the country. Images of the charred site panned across the screen, as well as footage showing firefighters battling the blaze on the night of the incident. "The mystery surrounding the fire has led to a multitude of rumours circulating the local community as to how it might have started, but a representative of the force today confirmed that they suspect this to be a work of arson."

It was as if time froze, as Hugh McKenna choked briefly on something he was swallowing, and his wife's gaze darted up to the previously-ignored monitor. Aiden's own eyes remained focussed on the untouched meal before him. The rest of the anchor's words seemed to blur into gibberish as the programme ended, leaving Aiden's parents locked in an uncomfortable stare; their eyes had all the conversation that their silence prohibited. Finally, Hugh took the plunge and cleared his throat.

"Son, I, uh--"

"I knew it," he said, his voice louder than anyone at the table expected. "I fucking knew it!" He pushed himself away from the table angrily. "The second there's a fire, all eyes are on me. You said you understood!" he yelled, as he tore through the kitchen towards the door.

"Aiden, dear, we never said--"

He paused, turning to face his parents. "Cut the shit, mom. You don't have to say it."

"Do not speak to your mother that way!" Hugh bellowed, rising to his feet.

"You guys think I'm so fucking dumb," Aiden hissed. "Well, maybe you were right, cuz I sure as hell fell for it when you guys said you trusted me. I'm outta here." he said, before marching out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Amélie fanned herself frantically, trying to fend off the sudden heat of the kitchen as she wiped sweat from her brow. For a moment, it was silent again - save for the adverts rolling on TV.

"He'll be fine," Hugh almost-whispered as he slumped back in his seat. "Give him time to cool off."

Amélie looked at her husband with a mixture of fear and desperation. "Hugh, you don't think he actually..? You know..."

The man held up a hand to silence his wife. "I don't know, honey. I don't know."

^{Later that day, Mather Memorial Park}

Aiden was still reeling from his outburst some hours later. He didn't even remember the specifics of the argument, or even his journey to the park; as was often the case when his anger got the better of him, Aiden had run on adrenaline and paid little thought to what he was actually doing. Now, the burnt smell of levelled woodland filled his nostrils as he walked as innocently as possible past what was now a crimescene, with several investigators scouring the earth for clues. Aiden shuddered at the thought, and continued to walk.

He hadn't been walking for very long when he saw the school emerge before him, and was surprised to find it lit up with activity at this hour of night. What was going on?

The dance. He'd not even entertained the idea of attending the function, and so he'd completely forgotten about it altogether. He had more important things to worry about after all. He turned down a path, to walk along the perimeter of the campus whilst still affording himself the cover of woodland. He didn't want to be spotted by any students, and he certainly was in neither the mood nor the attire for any sort of dance.

Aiden had been walking for about ten minutes, and the school was still very much in view. It was illuminated beautifully tonight, the burnt orange moon casting a kind glow over the campus that ameliorated a lot of the flaws it had by day. Aiden had always loved the blood moon; it had a certain sense of theatre to it, seeming by its very nature to tap into something supernatural. He knew he'd seen too many movies, but it didn't stop his imagination from running away with itself. In a sense, he was grateful, because the time he spent pondering vampires and witches acted as a distraction - from both his anger, and his guilt. He was old enough to not be scared of such monsters, but it was always exciting to think about what might lurk in the night.

And so of course, he was suitably unnerved when he heard it: long, loud and unmistakable, piercing through the night. A howl. It seemed to call out for answers, and it certainly received them as several other blood-chilling cries echoed in the dark. One or two in particular seemed more than a little too close for comfort, as though they were coming from deeper within the wood. Be it wild dogs or gang members that were marking their prey, Aiden swiftly became panicked. Bolting out of the trees, the school suddenly seemed much more appealing as he sprinted across the campus green towards the old building.

By the time he reached the gymnasium, he was panting heavily and gasping for air. He hid behind the building and tried to regain composure; the plan was simple, he would sit here for a few hours until the ball came to an end. That way, there were plenty of people nearby in case any trouble emerged, but he was unlikely to be found or bothered by anyone he actually knew. Then, when the party ended, he would slip into the crowd and make his way home. It was perfect.

Except, it wasn't. For within seconds, a little-used back door to the gymnasium was opened, and two figures emerged from the party. Aiden recognised them immediately as Elroy and Professor Lehrer. Grimacing, he became painfully aware of how suspicious his position would seem: a student clearly not dressed for the event, hiding behind the gym and clearly shaken. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Hello, Mr. Lehrer," he said meekly, shuffling his feet as he awaited whatever scolding the new teacher had in store for him.

Crestwood Hollow

<Snipped quote by Tyler>

I was gonna offer you something, but all I have to offer would be inappropriate. Did everything reattach properly, no loose bits danging around?

@Hillan

Looks/feels like it. And all this swelling has at least shown me that I can totally pull off being the fat guy when I inevitably regain my ability to eat pizza. Or you know, anything that isn't soup.

Crestwood Hollow

<Snipped quote by Tyler>

How you feeling?

Did you face any difficulties?

@Hillan

Yeah. The surgery was supposed to take 1.5-2 hours and it took four. So I'm pretty beat up. I can only manage to sleep for like an hour at a time. It's not great. Basically, feel really sorry for me and shower me with gifts.

Crestwood Hollow

I am alive, finally back from from hospital. Do not expect a post from me soon as I'm not in the best way. But hopefully within the week. Look forward to reading other posts in the meantime and sorry to be a delay.

Crestwood Hollow

I couldn't ask on Skype since the company very conveniently won't allow me to sign in via iOS, but I just wanted to ask where we were at. Tomorrow will be my very last chance to post for a little while so was hoping I would get the opportunity.

Crestwood Hollow

I have tests for the next three days so I will try to move us along come Friday.

@Lord Wraith

Good luck.

Crestwood Hollow

@Tyler I've been a part of Wraith's RPs too many times that when I see this I immediately assume it's going to be the end. I'm still bummed about the X-Men RP we did because I was having a lot of fun, only to have that taken from me. So naturally I go on the offensive when I see something faltering because I am just plain tired of good RPs dying because no one has the decency to at least post that they aren't interested anymore or that they are busy IRL and can't get to a post.

@FantasyChic

Well I mean, ultimately, roleplaying is a collaborative medium. You're always going to work with other people, and those other people might not have the means or interest to post as frequently or regularly as you might like. That's just the nature of writing as part of a roleplay. I've found that it's a lot more enjoyable to stop getting angry about it, take a rack off, and just enjoy things as they come. Each post is an outlet for me to play with an idea, and ultimately it doesn't matter how quickly we reach the 'end' - or if we even get there. The sooner you find fun in the actual process of writing vs. 'roleplaying', the sooner you'll have a much easier time. Because then it becomes "Hey, cool, I get to write" vs. "Ugh, why is everyone slowing me down".

Do you write independently at all? Roleplaying for me is primarily a way for me to get some social interaction from an otherwise isolating hobby, but it's also a great opportunity to explore themes/ideas before using them in my own independent work. It's something to consider.

Crestwood Hollow

I would tag people but, again, I got yelled at for doing that last time (our co-GM remembers that, yes?) Looks like you may need to recruit more soon.

@FantasyChic

We're halfway through the allowed posting period, and half our cast has posted. We're on track. Just try not to worry; the RP doesn't rely on a large roster to succeed, and we can afford to lose some of the extra bulk if required.

There are enough of us posting that the RPs future shouldn't be a concern for you. Just keep ensuring your own posts are in on time, and let the others worry about themselves. I say this selfishly, because you aren't on the list of characters that I'd like to see fall behind..!

Crestwood Hollow

A I D E N M c K E N N A

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^{After the bell, Mather Memorial Park}

The announced dance was the last thing on Aiden's mind as he stormed through Mather Memorial Park. His skin was seared by rage; his whole body aching for release, as though some demon trapped within him demanded to be set free. Aiden hated this side of him; this wrathful monster that could so easily be prodded and provoked. He had been trying so hard over this past year to get some semblance of mindfulness; yoga, meditation, anything it took to sedate his temper. And he'd been succeeding, until today. He was just like the rest of them, his own rational thinking overpowered by his adolescent predicament. And he hated it.

Except, he wasn't really like the rest of them. There was something very specific that his body longed for, demanded, needed. Well, there were a few things - but one in particular was shouting louder than the others. It had been suppressed for far too long for Aiden to put up any sort of fight, and so it was with a sense of helplessness that he found himself clambering off the well-trodden path and into the denser woodland, his feet moving furiously of their own volition. He knew that he shouldn't; every nerve in his body warned him that he was being reckless and marching into danger. And yet, they also sang in harmony: Do it, do it, do it now. And before he knew it, he had arrived at the clearing.

He'd frequented this spot often during his younger days, a crude swing hanging from the branch of a tree that bore his carved initials acting as a testament to his time spent in the secluded retreat. It was this sense of privacy - no, isolation - that had drawn him back out here on the brink of adulthood. As a child, this unassuming clearing had been the place he was able to let off steam, and that was exactly what he needed right now.

He approached the tree cautiously, as though it might bear a grudge for all the time Aiden had not visited. But still it stood, its loyalty as strong as each bough. He ran a hand along the weathered wood, his fingers running along the decade-old etching of his initials in the bark. He closed his eyes, allowing something inside of himself to undo, if only ever-so-slightly. He traced the carving once more, this time with his index finger, which had grown so hot that the letters became charred as the tree was branded by heat.

He smiled. It just felt so right.

Invoked, Aiden turned and gripped the swing firmly, marvelling as the heat of his hand burned through the rope and caused the construct to ignite. It fell to the ground like a ready-made campfire, and his lips curved further. He was beginning to lose any inhibitions he might have, as he allowed a ball of flame to slip from his fist, shooting upwards like a military flare and followed quickly by a second and third. A swipe of his free arm set a jet of flame reeling through the clearing, and it was only when a large bush on the opposite perimeter swiftly caught light that Aiden realised what he was doing. His eyes grew wide in panic as he watched the angry red tongues lick at the nearby fauna, feeding the hungry beast and allowing it to grow at an alarming rate.

And so Aiden did what he did best: he fled.