「back - to - the - monsters」⇢「silent hill rp, O/A」

[Unnoticing Senpai]

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]WHERE: In front of the Mall ▱ WITH: Kessler ▱ DOING: Socializing

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I MUST HAVE DREAMED A THOUSAND DREAMS

xxxxxxxxxxBEEN HAUNTED BY A MILLION SCREAMS

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxBUT I CAN HEAR THE MARCHING FEET

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTHEY'RE MOVING INTO THE STREET

DID YOU READ THE NEWS TODAY?

THEY SAY THE DANGER HAS GONE AWAYxxxxxx

BUT I CAN SEE THE FIRE'S STILL ALIGHT xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

THEY'RE BURNING INTO THE NIGHTxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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Two weeks of aimlessly wandering through the bloody streets of Silent Hill’s true form, constantly hearing the rattle of chains behind oneself, would probably drive most people mad. Either that hadn’t seemed to faze Denill in the slightest, or he was already insane. Denill did have a time wondering if perhaps that was the case, seeing as he had a lot of time to think before Silent Hill found him another target. After all, he did seem to fit the criteria according to “normal” people, what with his lack of remorse when killing someone, never flinching at the sign of blood and decay. Of course, if the people really knew why he did these things, perhaps they wouldn’t be so averse to his actions. But nobody seems to understand that he was saving them. Saving all of them and their souls from this wretched “life.” A state of being which can only be maintained by ensuring something or someone else is denied the right to live.

Still, there was one thing he did miss when he was alive. Eating. True, it goes against his beliefs, especially now that he no longer needed to eat to sustain himself, but he would be lying in saying he was not fond of it. The atmosphere of class in a quiet restaurant was something that one could not find elsewhere anywhere in this world. Perhaps the next one, their God permit. He pulled the chains behind him, the knives in Denill’s back sloshing around, trying to regain their grip on his flesh as he approached what looked as if it was supposed to be a restaurant, but was run down to the ground as if they dropped another restaurant straight on top of it. Much to its chagrin, the hypothetical restaurant that was dropped on it was in equally bad condition, which prompted Denill to suddenly imagine a slew of broken down restaurants stacked atop each other like a very complex game of Jenga.

He walked through the gates, breathing heavily as his sadistic, teeth-baring grin stretched from one side of the black void he calls a face to the other, approaching a strange amalgamation of human limbs and furniture that in the eyes of others would have been a waiter.

“Table.” The mass of muscle and chains spoke to the half-creature, half object amalgamation. “Now.”

“Hoooooooooow… many… siiiiit?!” It hideously screeched out, trying desperately to emit some sort of attempt at the English language.

“... One.” Boojum said between heavy breaths.

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight… riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight... this way, sir.” What started as a horrible screech suddenly reverted back to a “normal” sounding human being, the amalgamation being replaced by a waiter, and the Boojum being replaced by Denill, black suit and all. The broken down walls of the interior of the restaurant were replaced by a sleek, beige fresh coat of paint, lit by lights imitating candles and the occasional window letting in a ray of sunshine from the outside. Denill sat at the table, deciding to order nothing more than mere apple juice. It was a strange sight to behold. If it weren’t for the fact that he obviously looked like an adult and that he was a mayor, his short height and childish choice in drinks would have convinced people that he was still in high school. Well, maybe younger, given the apple juice. Waiting for it to arrive, he stretched out his back against the support of the chair, spotting a woman filling out an application in anticipation of her meal.

TRAITOR

“Are you here alone?” Not even Denill recalled when he got from his table all the way to hers. It all seemed to happen in an instant to him. Like he was possessed and just regained his grip on his mind and body. He sat in front of the woman, his chair swerved around backwards. A small grin, barely visible, eked out of his visage. “It’s rare to see people in restaurants around here without someone by their side, or at least their family.” As if Denill was one to talk.

TRAITOR

“I don’t think I recall seeing you here before. Are you knew in town? Silent Hill seems to really have picked up on tourists as of late.” He turned his eyes to the side, almost as if he knew something, but was keeping it a secret. Which he did, and he was. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this town seemed to call people over, all on its own.” Turning his eyes back to the woman, he crossed his arms over the chair’s back support and leaned closer to the table. “Pleasure to meet you. Denill Ferrumoris, mayor of Silent Hill. And allow me to welcome you to our fine, little town.”

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THERE'S TOO MANY MEN, TOO MANY PEOPLE

xxxxxxxxxxxxxMAKING TOO MANY PROBLEMS, AND

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTHERE'S NOT MUCH LOVE TO GO AROUND

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxCAN'T YOU SEE THIS IS A LAND OF CONFUSION?

THIS IS THE WORLD WE LIVE IN

AND THESE ARE THE HANDS WE'RE GIVENxxxxxx

USE THEM AND LET'S START TRYING xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TO MAKE IT A PLACE WORTH LIVING INxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tortured Life, Dreary Reality
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Denill goes to Restaurant.
Denill speaks to Aoki.
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STAND UP AND LET'S START SHOWING

JUST WHERE OUR LIVES ARE GOING TO

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