[ ooc / New blood, here to try out this real piece of work in the setting. There's a little info on him here along with content warnings; his canon point is Part I. He'll be under the initial impression that he came here voluntarily (after a fashion: he just chose to leave his universe, not knowing where he'd end up) and essentially bodysnatched this version of himself.
Prompts written in action but I'm happy to do prose too. ]
arrival.content warnings: chemical overdose, references to human experimentation and imprisonment, gaslighting
[ He's alive. He's awake. Working backwards: He was asleep.
Hap sits up in bed, touches his face with both hands. Tests his features. He's him. The same. And someone else, somewhere else. The first effects of the sodium pentathol poisoning have vanished like the last weak murmurs of a dream. He laughs, though not as hysterically as he might if he'd shifted into a fully alert body, or the trip had been at all taxing. It didn't feel like he thought it would, crossing universes. Slipping into another consciousness (pushed aside or snuffed out?) is seamless, as it turns out. No more disorientating than a blink.
It worked. The years of research, the sacrifices and isolation, the suffering of his subjects, and every gouge out of his conscience to construct a greater understanding of the universe -- a goal he accepted couldn't be achieved in his lifetime -- came to impossible, unbelievable fruition.
And he could do it again.
His glasses are within reach on the nightstand. He puts them on and takes in the room, starting with the body beside him. Not someone he recognizes, and that tempers the elation rushing through him. He was expecting Renata or Rachel. (Won't think about Prairie and what he did to her.) But why should he? They could be anywhere in this world. Or they could be in his basement.
He opts not to disturb the woman who may or may not be his wife. Best he acquaints himself with their life as much as he can, first. In the framed photo he finds, she's no one he recognizes from his past. He has no right to be disappointed by that so denies that he is. Their home is mundane. It doesn't take him long to work out that the sixties flair isn't just aesthetic. The suggestion of time displacement has him all but forgetting about the woman upstairs (though he does take a peek down the underground stairs. Empty).
Unwilling to suspend his disbelief based on the available, potentially fabricated evidence, Hap returns to the bedroom to dress. ]
i. the missus
[ If his partner wakes while he's changing, he turns to her while buttoning up his shirt. ]
Ah. [ He has no reason to think she's never seen him before, and tries to act normal. Pleasantly generic. ] Good morning.
ii. in town
[ Hap scrounges up his counterpart's, now his, wallet and keys. Birthdate on the driver's licence lines up with his age and the supposed year. It's disconcerting; he's not going to waste energy contemplating all the ways it will be extremely inconvenient, if true. In his car, he follows the roads without aim until he's satisfied no architecture is going to surprise him. It's unfailingly uniform to the time period.
He stops in town and goes on a walkabout, popping into several stores. Making polite conversation with shop clerks, purchasing a thing or two just to blend in. Nobody and nothing seems out of place. Hap is standing on the sidewalk, magazine in hand, paused on an advertisement for asbestos-lined oven mitts, when someone nearby practically knocks him off his feet with a casual anachronism.
A modern tune, hummed. A reference or some slang. Crass behaviour unbefitting a fine citizen of Silent Springs. Whatever it is, he folds the magazine shut and steps urgently up to them. ]
Sorry, what was that? Just now?
iii. don't tell me why
[ Hap watches the broadcast with arms crossed, brow knit. Nonetheless, his posture is at ease compared to the tension that comes over him near the end. One fist tightens against his side, the other grips hard at his forearm. She's not here. She couldn't be. He left her behind.
But if anyone could find a way to follow him...
No, she wouldn't. She would have no reason to except to pursue vengeance, and Prairie doesn't have that in her. She doesn't care about him that much. Hap pulls his glasses off, rubs at the bridge of his nose. Is, for the first time since he woke up in Pleasantville, glad he left her. It's only then that he notices the person beside him is having a reaction of their own.
He stresses a neutral tone. The line of his shoulders remains rigid. ] What did you see?
iv. wildcard
[ Open to all other prompts and scenarios, and happy to plot out smth beforehand, including some light assumed CR/handwaved intros. PM or PP verhoeven ]
hunter aloysius "hap" percy | the OA
Prompts written in action but I'm happy to do prose too. ]
arrival. content warnings: chemical overdose, references to human experimentation and imprisonment, gaslighting
[ He's alive. He's awake. Working backwards: He was asleep.
Hap sits up in bed, touches his face with both hands. Tests his features. He's him. The same. And someone else, somewhere else. The first effects of the sodium pentathol poisoning have vanished like the last weak murmurs of a dream. He laughs, though not as hysterically as he might if he'd shifted into a fully alert body, or the trip had been at all taxing. It didn't feel like he thought it would, crossing universes. Slipping into another consciousness (pushed aside or snuffed out?) is seamless, as it turns out. No more disorientating than a blink.
It worked. The years of research, the sacrifices and isolation, the suffering of his subjects, and every gouge out of his conscience to construct a greater understanding of the universe -- a goal he accepted couldn't be achieved in his lifetime -- came to impossible, unbelievable fruition.
And he could do it again.
His glasses are within reach on the nightstand. He puts them on and takes in the room, starting with the body beside him. Not someone he recognizes, and that tempers the elation rushing through him. He was expecting Renata or Rachel. (Won't think about Prairie and what he did to her.) But why should he? They could be anywhere in this world. Or they could be in his basement.
He opts not to disturb the woman who may or may not be his wife. Best he acquaints himself with their life as much as he can, first. In the framed photo he finds, she's no one he recognizes from his past. He has no right to be disappointed by that so denies that he is. Their home is mundane. It doesn't take him long to work out that the sixties flair isn't just aesthetic. The suggestion of time displacement has him all but forgetting about the woman upstairs (though he does take a peek down the underground stairs. Empty).
Unwilling to suspend his disbelief based on the available, potentially fabricated evidence, Hap returns to the bedroom to dress. ]
i. the missus
[ If his partner wakes while he's changing, he turns to her while buttoning up his shirt. ]
Ah. [ He has no reason to think she's never seen him before, and tries to act normal. Pleasantly generic. ] Good morning.
ii. in town
[ Hap scrounges up his counterpart's, now his, wallet and keys. Birthdate on the driver's licence lines up with his age and the supposed year. It's disconcerting; he's not going to waste energy contemplating all the ways it will be extremely inconvenient, if true. In his car, he follows the roads without aim until he's satisfied no architecture is going to surprise him. It's unfailingly uniform to the time period.
He stops in town and goes on a walkabout, popping into several stores. Making polite conversation with shop clerks, purchasing a thing or two just to blend in. Nobody and nothing seems out of place. Hap is standing on the sidewalk, magazine in hand, paused on an advertisement for asbestos-lined oven mitts, when someone nearby practically knocks him off his feet with a casual anachronism.
A modern tune, hummed. A reference or some slang. Crass behaviour unbefitting a fine citizen of Silent Springs. Whatever it is, he folds the magazine shut and steps urgently up to them. ]
Sorry, what was that? Just now?
iii. don't tell me why
[ Hap watches the broadcast with arms crossed, brow knit. Nonetheless, his posture is at ease compared to the tension that comes over him near the end. One fist tightens against his side, the other grips hard at his forearm. She's not here. She couldn't be. He left her behind.
But if anyone could find a way to follow him...
No, she wouldn't. She would have no reason to except to pursue vengeance, and Prairie doesn't have that in her. She doesn't care about him that much. Hap pulls his glasses off, rubs at the bridge of his nose. Is, for the first time since he woke up in Pleasantville, glad he left her. It's only then that he notices the person beside him is having a reaction of their own.
He stresses a neutral tone. The line of his shoulders remains rigid. ] What did you see?
iv. wildcard
[ Open to all other prompts and scenarios, and happy to plot out smth beforehand, including some light assumed CR/handwaved intros. PM or PP![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
verhoeven ]