Foolishness, Loss, and Another Log

First. It seems I've made an ass of myself on the RtS blog. The comments. I let Steele get to me. Which was a mistake. As I said in my last comment, it was my mistake for letting grief get to me. And I would like to perhaps once again apologize. For being a twat. Even though I was right, I should've been nicer about it. And not started trying to start a fight.

Grief. For those of you who don't know. Emma(Shrodinger) died. She and I were close, considering we travelled together for a month. She was one of the three kindest, sweetest people I have ever met. The love she had for all of us was incredible. Hell, even the Messenger liked her.
I wish I had something eloquent and beautiful to say. She was so poetic, she deserves better than my fumbling prose. But she was a dear friend and I will miss her more than I can possibly say.

In other news, another chat log. Because as much as I want to sit around and mourn, I promised you all I would show you what I see. So I continue with the conversation we had when he decided to come rescue me.

[7/26/2011 1:58:48 AM] Morningstar: Getting drunk AGAIN?
[7/26/2011 1:59:33 AM] Elaine: I'm in a cage. Out there? A bedroom and a bathroom. That's all I have for the next week. Not to mention... Well, you know.
[7/26/2011 2:00:19 AM] Elaine: In any case, I DO NOT LIKE cages.
[7/26/2011 2:00:23 AM] Morningstar: Do you want OUT of the Cage?
[7/26/2011 2:00:49 AM] Elaine: Um. Yes? But there's not much I can do that wouldn't make me a fucking fugitive.
[7/26/2011 2:01:08 AM] Morningstar: Do you want me to come GET you out of the Cage?
[7/26/2011 2:01:36 AM] Elaine: Ah-can you do that? Without getting into trouble for not murdering me?"
[7/26/2011 2:01:54 AM] Morningstar: Yes. Easily. I can say I am trying to bait Sage.
[7/26/2011 2:02:39 AM] Elaine: Thank you.
[7/26/2011 2:02:48 AM] Elaine: So, why exactly are you willing to risk your ass to do this?
[7/26/2011 2:03:00 AM] Morningstar:  I dislike seeing you like this.
[7/26/2011 2:05:11 AM] Morningstar: So anyway. Elaine. Do you want me to "rescue" you or not?
[7/26/2011 2:05:22 AM] Elaine: Yes. If you can. That would be wonderful.
[7/26/2011 2:06:56 AM] Morningstar: I'll even give you a ride in the Killdozer Lainey. How does that sound?
[7/26/2011 2:07:13 AM] Elaine: Sounds fun.
[7/26/2011 2:07:45 AM] Elaine: The only problem is, I have no idea where the fuck I am. Austin's a big place, and we might've gone somewhere else entirely.
[7/26/2011 2:08:24 AM] Morningstar: We have Resources. It is a matter of using them effectively.
[7/26/2011 2:09:37 AM] Elaine: Like what...
[7/26/2011 2:10:45 AM] Morningstar: Hmmm... I wonder if... MY GOD. I KNOW HOW TO FIND YOU LAINEY.
[7/26/2011 2:10:58 AM] Elaine: Wait. You do?
[7/26/2011 2:11:05 AM] Morningstar: Yes, I DO.
[7/26/2011 2:11:10 AM] Morningstar: It will take some time though.
[7/26/2011 2:11:19 AM] Elaine: How's that, then? Like I said, I don't even know where I am.
[7/26/2011 2:11:28 AM] Morningstar: Trust Me.
[7/26/2011 2:11:46 AM] Elaine: What, did you stick a tracking device on me at the wedding or when you jumped me?

[7/26/2011 2:12:05 AM] Elaine: I... thanks. And... Um. Make it look like you're taking me hostage or something? Otherwise I might get arrested later.
[7/26/2011 2:12:20 AM] Morningstar: Well OBVIOUSLY. My Slender-Tracker. That I got from the Slendermobile inside my Slendercave. No. Not a tracking device.
[7/26/2011 2:12:42 AM] Morningstar: Of course you will be my hostage.
[7/26/2011 2:12:47 AM] Elaine: Heh, that would be pretty sweet
[7/26/2011 2:12:51 AM] Morningstar: We Do actually have a Slendercave.
[7/26/2011 2:13:03 AM] Morningstar: Several.
[7/26/2011 2:13:08 AM] Elaine: Um.  What.
[7/26/2011 2:13:46 AM] Morningstar: Of course. We are well funded and have lots of Flamboyant Rich Maniacs
[7/26/2011 2:14:16 AM] Elaine: Fair enough
[7/26/2011 2:14:25 AM] Elaine: You mean like that Rhodes douchecanoe?
[7/26/2011 2:14:37 AM] Morningstar: Sort of. Most are more competent.
[7/26/2011 2:14:51 AM] Elaine: Ooooh, fair enough.

The Wing

Apparently I've hit the time limit on being allowed to relax, though I guess some of this, at least, is my fault. 

To start with the first thing, I guess, I woke up way early this morning to go try something I've been wanting to attempt since I first started making plans to come to the house. It was potentially life threatening, reckless, stupid, and insane, but since when has that ever stopped me?

So I woke up and slipped through a certain set of doors into the East Wing in the early morning hours. For those of you who don't read their blog, it has been described as a nightmare zone with twisting, changing corridors and apparently some kind of supernatural effect on people even outside of it. Now, Slendershit aside, I'm not exactly a big believer in the supernatural, but I figured there had to be something.

I don't know what I expected, after the crazy stories that have been told about it. What I definitely didn't expect was what I found. A couple of long, dusty corridors. A lot of empty rooms. Nothing at all of interest. I don't fucking get it.

The place is supposed to be nightmare inducing... not sneeze inducing. I kept looking, I checked every fucking room, looking for something that would explain it. I didn't find anything, but Spencer found me. He seemed amused, which pissed me right the fuck off. By the time he showed up, I'd worked myself up about it, I guess, because for a moment I thought I actually saw something. But it went away quickly and upon reflection it wasn't even the same sort of hallucination that people tend to associate with the Wing.

Spence wouldn't tell me shit, and so when he left I went to talk to August. The kid tried his best to be helpful, and it's clear he really believed what he was telling me, but... that shit doesn't just happen. I'm finding it more likely that there was a gas leak or something that Spencer fixed recently. Because hallways don't just move around. So that's my theory and I'm sticking to it. Sorry guys. I know you all believe this, but... you realize how insane it is, right?

In other news, it turns out my security measures for Shrody didn't even last a full day. I'm... I'm going to try and find her, try and save her, but she was taken from an airport. She could be anywhere by now... By the time I find her it may be too late, and I unfortunately have a promise to keep that means if I haven't found her within the next few days I may not be able to.

More on that promise when it's safe to discuss.

I should head out again, I think I may have offended August a little by not believing him, I should go apologize...

Hopefully This Works

Shrody's gone. I put her on a plane this morning. I took some time last night to get her an apartment and a bank account somewhere far away from me and New York and anyone who knows to wish her harm. I don't expect that alone to keep her safe forever, but it should buy her some time in safety. If proxies come calling, she knows how to reach me, and I'll get her out of there.

For now... I'm about to attempt something insanely dangerous and probably pretty stupid. I'd prefer to keep the people I put at risk here to a minimum.

I realize that's perhaps a little ironic since I'm staying in a place with more people in it than I've interacted with since the wedding. But the point stands. Even though I will miss her and Frank both.

Also. MrStumblr died. He didn't exactly have a whole lot of people he talked to, but we've interacted a lot. I... I wasn't exactly easy on him, he had done some bad shit, but apparently he thought I hated him. 

He... He left Spence a delivery request. The bastard thought he was about to die, and what are the two things he tries to do? Leave his girlfriend his money and send me a fucking apology bouquet.

I am starting to think I may be even more of a cunt than I previously thought.

On a happier note, the worst of the withdrawals is done. I'm back in business, bitches!

Also, the House is great. Shrody found it unsettling, but for whatever reason I'm really comfortable here. Not entirely certain if that's a good thing or not...

In any event. I'm going to finally catch back up on my sleep, I think. Expect me to be perhaps a little scarce over the next couple days. 

Fire

Fuck. Got careless, got sloppy, and it's ended badly. Shrody and I have come out of this with our skins intact, anyway, and Frank's still being his usual loving self, so it could be a lot worse.
Still, I lost half of my notes, including all of Alice's notes AND her notebook itself.  Not to mention the fear that comes when you get stupid enough to think you might be safe and something terrible happens.

See, we hit a motel a little early tonight. I know I haven't been sleeping worth shit, and taking care of a new kitten means Shrody's not sleeping as well as she could be either. I think all three of us were relieved to see the inside of our rooms-two, with the connecting door wide open, as usual. I took first watch, it's not like I was going to sleep anyway-apparently suddenly sobering up will do that to a girl.

In any event, when they called the alarm over the intercom, Shrody and I were up and moving in a flash, grabbing what we could and out the door. The other guests-not that there were many of them- followed us out shortly afterward, followed by the staff, the manager carrying his ledger and doing a head count.

The motel was going up FAST, from several different points, but it looked like no harm had been done to any of us. I motioned for Shrody to follow me to the car and started loading up. It was only when I turned to ask for her bag that I noticed she was gone. And then I immediately realized that Frank hadn't made it out with us.

It was stupid of me not to grab him and stupid of me to let Shrody out of my sight when her kitten was in danger. So, I did something equally stupid. I ran in after her. Because like hell was I going to risk anything else happening to her.
If you've never walked into a burning building, it's a little pointless to describe the suffocating heat, the smoke everywhere, sometimes thin enough that you almost wouldn't know there was a fire, sometimes so thick you can't see a foot in front of your face. Mostly I stayed clear of the flames, but trying to get through the hotel occasionally I'd hit a stretch where the flames bloomed above me or to the side and made the entire place look like some crazed artist's rendition of hell. It's the sort of thing you have to live to really understand, and trust me, you don't want to.

That said, it didn't take me long to get to her, it just felt like it. She'd made it to the room, but she was OUT. The ceiling was starting to cave, and something fell on her-though I'm not really sure what, there was nothing nearby that looked like it fell. Looked like it was on fire when it hit, but for whatever reason it went out quick-which was good for her. Even better, Frank was there, nosing at her, trying to wake her. I grabbed her and Frank and got the fuck out of there. Once we were out, the Manager started fussing over us and trying to insist on calling an ambulance. I'm not ENTIRELY sure how Shrody's condition works and I didn't think she'd want doctors peering at her if she could help it, so I stalled until she woke up.
Oh that was such a relief. I'm willing to admit now, now that we're safe and far away, that I was terrified. I was so worried that something serious had happened-or worse, that I'd lost her completely.
She seemed to be in a lot of pain, but she insisted the man not call an ambulance, and so he FINALLY left to deal with his other customers. After that it was a matter of waiting until she was alright to move and then getting the fuck out of there.

Though I will say. The smile on her face when she saw Frank safe and well made it all worth it.

More Travel and Page Theory

Shrody and I left Ro's house this morning. We were both kind of sad to go, Ro's been very nice to us, but I think the situation with David had all of us on edge, and we'll all be breathing easier now that we've left.
All the same, I'll miss him. We had some great late night conversations, and Frank really adored him.

In any event, nothing much to report there. The big reason for this post is that I promised you lot a review of Page Theory, and while recent events have conspired to delay it a little while, I'm putting it up today.

Here's the original write-up.

The theory attempts to explain several things: the way the Path of Black Leaves works, the reason slendershit can be in several places at once, the reason slendershit seems to work differently for different people, and the existence of loops-or labyrinths as they were once commonly known.

To summarize, the actual theory is as follows:
Everyone sees the universe from their own point of view. This makes up THEIR universe, or page. Everyone has their own page, and all of the pages together make up the stack, or the universe at large. Pages can be crossed through, and people from different pages can interact without a problem. The space BETWEEN the pages is where loops form, where the outside edge where all the pages meet is the Path. In addition, Slendy works kind of like... stabbing a pushpin through the pile. He can be present on multiple pages at once.
As far as WHY we're split into pages, Spence has several theories, none of which he seems to have a particular preference for. It could be the presence of slendershit himself, or possibly a direct result of the creation of loops, or possibly it's just a matter of everyone having their own perspective. I tend to think it's the latter-there doesn't seem to be a reason to make it any more complicated.

Generally, I'm extremely hesitant to adopt anyone else's theory on anything regarding our current mess, specifically BECAUSE of the variable nature of slendershit's influence on all of us. Page Theory, however, is perhaps the absolute NEATEST explanation for this phenomenon I've ever had the good fortune to come across.
Page theory has the added bonus of explaining why Spence's team are so damn good at finding people. If everyone has their own slice of reality, it would theoretically be possible to flip through the pages to find the right one. Maybe?
Didn't actually ASK Spence about that one, I'm just guessing...

So, that's Page Theory. And the last of the things Spence gave Cam. Next I'll start putting up Cam's notebook. But. Um. It's...
Well, you'll see. When I can put it up. Right now... I need to think about it some more...

Not Exactly Civil...

But interesting. David came over today. He disguised himself as the grocery delivery guy and got into the house helping us carry the groceries. Ro wasn't kidding in his last post, he had like no food in the house. I'm guessing he mostly lives off of delivery food.
In any event. it's not until David slipped up and used Ro's real name that I could confirm that there was something strange-though I still can't shake the oddest feeling that I'd seen him before. Ro got up and saw David, David proceeded to be charming while threatening all of us. I get the feeling he's rather good at that.

I don't have the memory to recall the exact conversation, I was too busy watching the knife he had out and pressed against Shrody's cheek at that point. That was not something I was going to let stand. I pulled my knives and made it clear that he'd have to go through me to get to her-or at least tried. Ro slammed David away before I got the chance. Unfortunately, he didn't last long in the fight afterward-David had him pinned rather quickly.
The two of them have... interesting chemistry. I almost wonder what would've happened if I hadn't stepped in. I mean. Sorry, Ro, but fuck you two were going at it with your eyes. I mean, really.

Okay, shutting up now.

Right. So. I managed to say the right thing to get David interested in fighting me, thereby allowing Ro to get Shrody the fuck out of there. It was a good fight-David really knows what he's doing. I now have a nice stab wound in my left shoulder, again, and he has a lovely gash across his torso that will probably leave a serious scar.

After that, he seemed to respect me a little more. He said he'd go if I sat down and talked to him for a minute, so I did, being careful not to bleed on Ro's furniture. Strangely, he was perfectly pleasant, didn't seem to be bothered either by the rather energetic fight or by the fact that he was bleeding pretty heavily.

While we talked, I figured out just how much of a fucking bastard David really is. Two things were readily apparent. If David cares about anything in this world, it's Ro, and everyone else doesn't matter. People aren't people to him, they're objects. Things to be used and toyed with and disposed of when convenient. I was kind of surprised he spoke to me as respectfully as he did-though upon reflection, I'm expecting it's because I injured him. He seemed rather impressed by that. He even said he'd come to see me again-and NOT try and kill me-if it left a scar. Not quite sure how I feel about that...

David wanted me to defame Ro. He wanted me to blame my injury on him, to come on this blog and talk about how he was secretly a terrible person, to make people step away and stop encouraging him to be a hero. His rationale was that Ronan's search for redemption was making him miserable, and that if everyone stopped encouraging him to go for it, he'd come back to David and be happy.
Which is kind of sick.
I told him to fuck off, that I wouldn't let him hurt people I care about. He warned me that if I wouldn't help him separate Ro from all of you that he'd do it in a bit more violent way. So be warned, any of you that spend much time talking to TMV. David's coming, and I have no doubt that he will follow through with that threat. Be careful.

David phrased it as 'pitting my love against yours.' I found that rather amusing, but more or less accurate. I won't let David get away with hurting any of you.

Visiting

Throwing up a quick post to let all of you know that Shrody and I are safe at TMV's house.

Those of you who read Shrody's blog will know about what happened. On the bright side, we have a kitten. A tiny adorable kitten named Frank who makes our lives so much more interesting and whom I've admittedly been spoiling rotten. It's... it's her story to tell, really, but I wish there was something I could've done.

Again, I think being in the company of someone other than me is doing her some good. I'm unfortunately not the cheeriest of traveling companions, but Ro's been really sweet to us both, and he seems really fond of Frank. Which is nice, because I would've hated to come all this way only to leave because his house wasn't cat friendly.

In any event, I should go. I wanted to chat with him tonight, to thank him for having us.

Spencer

When Cam died, he left me half his bank account, a plot of land outside of Austin, his car, his laptop, and two notebooks. One of them is  his, and I haven't quite had the heart to really look through it yet. The other is Spencer's notebook. It's really more a collection of files stuck together in a vague notebook shape, but the terminology doesn't matter.

To be completely honest, I hadn't so much as glanced through the pages past the first one, with the letter to Cam. As I mentioned yesterday, I've been letting myself wallow. I hadn't looked. Spencer kept talking to me, kept telling me stories, and I was putting it off because I didn't want to face the fact that this was what Cam...

Right. Enough of the touchy feely. I started reading Tuesday. There's not a whole lot in terms of volume, but everything here has wider implications that have to be measured against what he's shared with me. I've been prepping this post since I started, since he wants me to share it with everyone.

The contents of the notebook can be split into three sections.

The typewritten pages
The handwritten pages
The random bits

The typewritten pages are old and worn, burnt and smudged and wrinkled. They're journal entries from his life. The six of them range across the better part of a decade and tell a rough story of Spencer's life after he left the slendercult he grew up in. From them, as well as the stories he's told me, I have an outline of his story, though of course some bits are still sketchy. I checked with him, and he's given me the okay to put up what I know.

That story he put up a while back is true. He grew up in a slendercult, without friends or even a name. Slendy was in his head from early on, and he thought that was what life was supposed to be, up until he actually saw Slendy. He was about to hit his fifteenth birthday, where he would be given a title and work for Slendershit.  Instead, he ran. Straight into the desert, of all things. There wasn't much of anywhere else to go, apparently.
Odds are high that he would've gotten himself killed there and then if he hadn't found Matt. Matt was older, and had run away before. He'd stayed long enough to pick up a few tricks, and so when Slendershit found them in the desert, Matt used the Path to get them out. They traveled together for a while until Slenderp caught up to them again. Matt got Spencer to NYC via the path but didn't make it out himself.
The first journal entry was written, so far as I can tell, on his 16th birthday.  I'm not sure exactly what did such damage to it, but it's still mostly legible and reads... well, rather like you'd expect under the circumstances
After that is the second entry, written about three years later. He'd been wandering all around the country. He talks about being in pretty bad shape, but still sounds pretty stable.
Sometime after that, Writer showed up. I'm not entirely sure if Writer was the one who found him or if they just partnered Spence with him, but they worked together for Slendershit. Spence was Teller, and he tricked people into loops(or labyrinths, as a lot of us know them), and Writer went in afterward.
For a while Spence was fooled into being reasonably happy with this, as the third entry shows(though I have a suspicion that it was written by Teller and not Spence at all...).
Somewhere along the line, as seen in the fourth entry, he figured out the truth and set his mind to running. He was more worried about Writer. The only thing in this world Writer loved was Spence, and he didn't seem he'd take kindly to his partner walking away. He didn't, he shoved Spence into a stove. But the worst was yet to come.
A group of proxies ambushed Spence and did... something.
He doesn't remember exactly how he got out, but he did, albeit... changed. More on that later. Right afterward, he writes the fifth entry. He's alive, more or less, and thrilled to be free, and this entry ends with him spotting an old friend. I know from both his stories and the sixth entry that that friend is Lori, also known as Doc, one of the RtS crew. They started the delivery service you're hopefully all familiar with, and that's what he's been doing up till now.

Next, the Handwritten Section.

Spence wrote out his Page Theory, which is very interesting and which I'm going to devote another post to soon. It deserves it's own space. Expect it in a day or two.

Lastly, the other stuff.

A couple notes from Doc, part of a medical report and a microscope picture, with some information about Spence's unusual condition. I'm kind of completely uneducated in the subject of biology, but it looks like bacteria don't grow in his blood?
Didn't exactly need the report for this, but he's also running cold. Really cold.

Also, three clipped sections from what appears to be a novel or a short story. Don't know which one, maybe one of you lot will. Pretty self explanatory.

Last and most worrying, two things that weren't even a part of the actual notebook, but showed up in my suitcase with my files sometime within the past week or so. A key with a note attached and a piece of paper with an altered version of one of Shakespeare's sonnets scribbled onto it crazylike.
'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
In the loops thou art lovely and more temperate
Rough winds keep destroying mature buds of may
And Master's lease has all too short a date'
also, at the very bottom, past the word 'tell' repeated many a time, is 'tell me days of heaven shines'

They were both in a brown paper sack tucked in with the rest of the things. They are from Writer. I don't know when he got into my stuff and put this there-I've been ignoring the files as much as possible, so beyond saying it wasn't there when I packed the suitcase I'm honestly not sure.
But the key worries me the most.
It's mine. MY key.
The first key I had to our apartment. We changed the locks a while back, but I'd kept it.
Once I offered it to Spence as payment for a job. He didn't take it. I hadn't noticed it was gone. Until it showed up in my fucking suitcase with a note from Writer.
'Elaine. This is yours. Thank you for bringing our St(X)ryteller home'
Cute. Real fucking cute. Writer, if you go near Spence I'll gut you myself. Consider this your warning, you sick fuck.


In any case, the Page Theory section will be up soon. I should head out now-looks like Shrody's found someone she recognizes...

Keep Moving

That's the plan, anyway. We left NYC yesterday,after saying a fond farewell to Rachael. It was nice, staying with her, rather peaceful, but the longer we stayed there the more danger we were all in, from her and from all the things chasing me.

So we're off, to visit another friend. Again, not telling you lot where I'm headed, I don't want an unpleasant surprise when I get there, and the person I'm visiting would definitely not thank me for bringing down a storm of proxies on their home. Suffice it to say that I am going to see a friend who's got more information that could be useful.

I'm starting my work back again. I'd been slacking, hadn't really done any research and I've only read one or two new blogs in the past several weeks. Fuck that shit. I've been wallowing too damn long. It's time to start fighting properly again, instead of just getting by.

I have a goal, one that is hard but definitely possible, and I'm doing everything in my fucking power to make sure I achieve it.

In the meantime, I have something Spencer gave Cam that I have the permission to post and discuss. Expect to see that within the next couple days, as soon as we stay someplace with a scanner. I have a couple of other topics that I'm planning research posts on within the next week or so as well.

I'm not going to roll over and fucking die because of all of this. Cam made it pretty clear he wanted me to live.

Back in Town

I'm in NYC, and it's beautiful and huge and bustling, just like I remember. The drive from Texas was hell, but I got here a day early and ended up able to spend yesterday with Spence, taking in the city almost like just another tourist. There was some craziness the previous night, and he came by to check on me, then ended up sticking for a while. He's a good friend. The two of us spent the day talking and remembering.  It was... it was nice. I needed that. It felt like I was finally getting a chance to say goodbye.

This was Cam's home, every time I've been here was with him. There's too much of him everywhere, he loved this city, loved showing it off to me in the hopes of making me smile for real. He's always been very good at that-I guess that's what happens when you've known someone for twenty years. Sure, he wasn't actually able to be physically with me for a lot of it, but he never let me fall out of touch, never let me ditch him. I think most of you thought that I met him when we started rooming together, we tended to encourage that belief, but that was not quite the truth. I never... I never bothered setting the record straight because I didn't think it mattered, but we were kids together, before he moved here. After shit hit the fan with me, he consistently wrecked his own life to be there when I needed him. No matter where I was or what trouble I'd gotten into, he was always there wanting to help. He deserves for you to know that.

The only reason I came here, to this city with all it's pain and memories and beauty, was two people I needed to see. The first, Shrodinger, I picked up rather early this morning. She really is that sweet, even desperate, looking like death, and missing a hand. She put up the request for a rescue a week ago and I got in touch, because like HELL was I leaving her to deal with this Cheshire bastard alone anymore. Didn't want to linger long there, so I just picked her and her stuff up and got the fuck out of there before something could show up and try to stop us.

We then proceeded to Rachael's house. Normally I would not go into the home of a proxy when seeking someplace vaguely resembling safe to rest and plan my next move, but she's a bit of a special case these days, and as much as I feel like a bitch saying so, physically she's not exactly a threat, so if it comes to that, I'm not too worried. She says she's pretty good at dealing with the 'itch' as she calls it and can give us warning if we need to get out, so I'm hoping that I'm just worrying too much.

I don't know what exactly I expected, really, but it wasn't her, in this cheerful, if a little dark and dusty, home. She looks to be in her thirties and absolutely beautiful, though everything about her is sad enough to break your heart. She swooped in and started mothering Shrodinger from the moment we arrived, and I've admittedly done a lot of awkward hovering and trying to help. She is so infinitely kind to us both, it kind of throws any expectations out the window. It's nice, really. I'm hoping our stop here will help Kat a little, and maybe I'll get lucky and it'll help me as well.