[IC] ◈ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒 | Κάθαρσις ◈

[BaronOBeefDip]

@JJ Doe@silver21

Charlie looked rather confused in response to what Jay had said.

"I'm sorry, did you say "link"?" she asked attempting to clarify that she wasn't just hearing things, "As in a website? I got here when I tried to enter the break room at my workplace. I guess that means there's more than one way for someone to end up in this place."

She then turned her attention to Sirpa.

"It's nice to meet you, Sirpa. Though, I'm sure it would be nicer under less bizarre circumstances." Charlie pointed out.

[Tlazolteotl]

Caught in a Snare

@silver21@DaftJive

She smiles at his answer.

"You remind me of my son, Damien." Her eyes go somewhere warm and distant. "It'd be cold outside and he still wouldn't wear his jacket. Said he was fine. Said it even when he was shaking." Quietly, she laughs. "So stubborn."

Then she glances around the room, checking for eavesdroppers, and leans in close. Her voice drops, as if she was about to reveal a deep secret.

"But I always brought it. Folded up in my bag, just in case."

Damien's mother goes still, her face emptied of the person that had been there a moment ago.

Slowly, her eyes refocus, drifting back toward him, heavy with sadness.

"He always says he's fine, even when he's not. He thinks I don't know. But I know. I know he's not okay. And I know some of it..." Her grip tightens in her lap. "Some of it is because of me."

Straightening with a start, she says:

"I left the iron on."

[silver21]

Caught in a Snare

@DaftJive@Tlazolteotl

Damien's heart ached as his mom spoke of him. He treasured the fact that she still had much of their earlier memories together. She had always taken being a mom as her most important role. Damien was endlessly grateful of that.

He gave her hand a squeeze. Then, "He always says he's fine, even when he's not. He thinks I don't know. But I know. I know he's not okay. And I know some of it..." Damien's throat tightened. He pressed his lips together firmly and willed himself to keep a dry eye. "Some of it is because of me."

Fuck. Satan dammit. He couldn't kill himself. Not yet, at least. Could he still be alive? Somewhere? Could he keep paying for his mother's residency at the memory care facility? Damien gave his mother's hand a squeeze and looked away. "You didn't leave the iron on. Stay with me." was what he wanted to say, but what he said instead was, "Maybe you did, Ma." After a brief moment, he painfully forced himself to let go of her hand. Would he be able to keep it up?

The image of Damien working outside of the vine barrier sped up. More phones rang, allowing only minuscule breaks in the noise. A dinging computer notification joined the cacophony like drill in the ear to any onlookers.

"You get back safely, okay? And it's not because of you." Damien said softly. He turned his head back to his mother. Too many words. He paused to give her a chance to keep up, then spoke again more slowly. "Your son doesn't hurt because of you okay?" Another pause. "I love you."

[Tlazolteotl]

Caught in a Snare

@silver21@DaftJive

Damien's mother's brow furrows at his words, then releases, her face opening into a smile.

"Thank you. You're very sweet to say that." Her eyes trace his face, holding a love that outlives her memory of it. "If you were my son, I'd be very proud of you."

Turning toward the barrier, she places both hands on the vines and pushes them aside like a curtain, steps through the gap she has made, and is gone, taking the smell of lavender with her.

[silver21]

Caught in a Snare

@DaftJive@Tlazolteotl

Damien watched as his mother left the enclosure. Then, he let out a long breath that he didn't know he'd been holding and rested his head forward against his chains. He sat there for a moment, breathing and trying not to cry. His heart reached for his mother shamelessly.

Damien pulled himself together and sat upright. He shifted in the chains until they loosened a bit. It was enough give to breathe better, but not quite enough to escape. He struggled, then paused. Struggle, then pause. And again, each time his efforts growing stronger.

"Even if you did escape, you'd never make enough." The tail had appeared again, teasing torment from the shadows at the edge of the enclosed space. "You have a job to do, don't you remember? Without me, you wouldn't be able to fund more than a week of your mother's care." Damien pushed harder against the chains, closing his eyes and grunting with the effort. "Think carefully, Damien. Your mother, or your friends?"

Both, he thought helplessly. Why couldn't he have both? He had the skillset. He had the motivation, the drive. How come what he did never seemed to be enough? It didn't matter that Viné's words weren't fully rational. Damien was past that.

Tears threatened to push past his eyelids shut against Viné's presence. He pushed with all his might against the chains, movements becoming more crazed with each attempt. Despite his efforts, the chains had not loosened any more. Damien shouted in rage as he kept trying anyway, the chain links beginning to bruise the skin beneath his fur.

[JJ Doe]

J̶͙̝̹͖͒̅̂̏͝͝ā̶̪̘̾̇̎̕y̷̗̦̖͊̀̑ͅ’s̵̤̪̰̓͝ ̷̮̤̋̽C̸̭͓̤͓̘̱̑̀̾͝͠ą̸̟͈̯͖͐̉͛̾̕͠t̴̩̺͆̂̓͐̕ḣ̵͉͍̣ȧ̷̫̙̞̐͘r̴̛̛͉̟̓̌̿͛s̴̛̮̞̫̝͉͆̈̀ị̸̗͓͍́͑ș̴̛͊̐̋͝t̸̞͗͐

@BaronOBeefDip@silver21@Tlazolteotl

“Yeah, from my end this is a thread on a website,” Jay said, pulling up the Κάθαρσις page again with a flick of their hand. “It’s advertised as a safe space to talk about your burdens. Group therapy, basically. Minus the copay.” A beat. “Also minus the therapist.”

Jay had to hand it to everyone, because not a single person here broke character. For some reason that pulled their mind toward another RP, one that group of “friends” also created and eventually abandoned to Jay and two other players. One of Jay’s characters in it got isekai’d and was convinced the whole thing was just an elaborate LARP community.

“Based on the premise of this place, that means everyone here has something that needs to get off their chest.” Jay swiped the page away. “At least, that’s why I’m here. You just walked in on me trying to figure out how to talk about a falling out that happened almost a year ago.”

[silver21]

J̶͙̝̹͖͒̅̂̏͝͝ā̶̪̘̾̇̎̕y̷̗̦̖͊̀̑ͅ's̵̤̪̰̓͝ ̷̮̤̋̽C̸̭͓̤͓̘̱̑̀̾͝͠ą̸̟͈̯͖͐̉͛̾̕͠t̴̩̺͆̂̓͐̕ḣ̵͉͍̣ȧ̷̫̙̞̐͘r̴̛̛͉̟̓̌̿͛s̴̛̮̞̫̝͉͆̈̀ị̸̗͓͍́͑ș̴̛͊̐̋͝t̸̞͗͐

@JJ Doe@BaronOBeefDip@Tlazolteotl

"It's nice to meet you, Sirpa. Though, I'm sure it would be nicer under less bizarre circumstances." Sirpa shrugged, then turned to Jay as they spoke again. The things they had to say were interesting, and Sirpa wondered how they managed to know so much about this place. Was it true that she was in a group therapy space? Is that why Wesley needed to confront his childhood to get out? Was this information something that she wasn't supposed to know? Jay knew. Was she supposed to know? Were Jay's words even true? Sure, maybe it was their truth, but did that apply to everyone else here?

Sirpa looked at the creature. She thought to ask, but realized that she didn't know its name. It seemed to be passively observing this whole interaction. Was it...?

This was making her head hurt. What was happening in the present moment was that Jay was talking about their situation. Sirpa decided to just focus on that for now. She could survive the length of one conversation without answers.

[Tlazolteotl]

J̶͙̝̹͖͒̅̂̏͝͝ā̶̪̘̾̇̎̕y̷̗̦̖͊̀̑ͅ's̵̤̪̰̓͝ Sirpa's C̸̭͓̤͓̘̱̑̀̾͝͠ą̸̟͈̯͖͐̉͛̾̕͠t̴̩̺͆̂̓͐̕ḣ̵͉͍̣ȧ̷̫̙̞̐͘r̴̛̛͉̟̓̌̿͛s̴̛̮̞̫̝͉͆̈̀ị̸̗͓͍́͑ș̴̛͊̐̋͝t̸̞͗͐

@silver21

The Keeper sits motionless, limbs folded and tucked like a stone gargoyle.

Its head turns. The body does not. A full hundred and eighty degrees, smooth and slow, until those enormous eyes face Sirpa.

It blinks. Once.

"Jay asked for a conversation. But you have not said a word to them. Why is that?"

[Tlazolteotl]

Caught in a Snare

@silver21@DaftJive@Stanifly

The moth comes from somewhere behind Vicis and Silas, its fur glowing softly. Its body brushes against theirs as it passes, warm against their skin. Its wings fold close as it slips between them and through the vines.

Once inside, it walks to where Damien is. It lowers itself to the ground next to him and asks one simple question:

"What do you want, Damien?"

[silver21]

J̶͙̝̹͖͒̅̂̏͝͝ā̶̪̘̾̇̎̕y̷̗̦̖͊̀̑ͅ's̵̤̪̰̓͝ Sirpa's C̸̭͓̤͓̘̱̑̀̾͝͠ą̸̟͈̯͖͐̉͛̾̕͠t̴̩̺͆̂̓͐̕ḣ̵͉͍̣ȧ̷̫̙̞̐͘r̴̛̛͉̟̓̌̿͛s̴̛̮̞̫̝͉͆̈̀ị̸̗͓͍́͑ș̴̛͊̐̋͝t̸̞͗͐

@Tlazolteotl

Sirpa grimaced slightly at the creature's uncanny movements. She twiddled her fingers as she spoke. "I don't really know what to say," she admitted. "I... I'm actually really confused about what they're saying. So it's hard to know what to say. I don't..." She paused to glance at Jay, then looked back at the creature. "Are we...really in a 'group therapy' thing right now? I don't think I signed up for that..." Sirpa's gaze wandered the room as she spoke, following an invisible train of thought. "Why am I here?" She looked toward Jay again, but continued to speak to the creature. "Actually, you can tell me later. I think I'm good at listening. I just... I'm not good at knowing when I'm supposed to talk, and I thought maybe Jay would want to get their whole story out first." Somehow, Sirpa was confident that this was another aside that the others couldn't hear. She felt no need to speak in hushed tones or monitor her expressions.

[silver21]

Caught in a Snare

@DaftJive@Tlazolteotl

Damien paused his struggle, his breath heavy. Exhaustion overshadowed any embarrassment from being perceived in such a vulnerable state. His eyes searched the floor for an answer he wasn't sure how to find. He drew in an unsteady breath before speaking. "I want..."

When Damien spoke again, the words that he formed with his mouth did not match what was outwardly expressed. What he mouthed was "I want to die," but what his voice said was, "I want peace."

Damien startled, surprised. He tried again. "I want to be dead." "I want to feel free."

"I wish I had killed myself!" "I wish I could just live!"

Damien sat in silence for a moment. His lip trembled and tears welled in his eyes when he finally looked up at the moth. "I want my friends to be safe," he choked. "And my mom-... I want her to have everything she needs." He looked out past the vines. He could see the frenzy of papers and phone calls just on the other side. "I don't want to live like that anymore," he said quietly. He let out a strained, painful sigh. "I can't. I need to, but I can't."

Damien felt hopeless. And sad. He felt so heavy with sadness that ached to the bone. The chains seemed to weigh down heavier on his body. A hint of blue brushed the bottom of the flame atop his head. "I'm stuck," he whispered. Tears flowed faster. "I don't know what to do. I'm trapped." He bit his lip, fighting back a sob, as he returned his gaze to the floor.

[Tlazolteotl]

J̶͙̝̹͖͒̅̂̏͝͝ā̶̪̘̾̇̎̕y̷̗̦̖͊̀̑ͅ's̵̤̪̰̓͝ S̲͍̏̂͜͡i͑̏҉r͎̲͞p̰͔̅̏ȃ̷͍҉̥͒'̶̝̰͍́ͅs͖҉̲ C̸̭͓̤͓̘̱̑̀̾͝͠ą̸̟͈̯͖͐̉͛̾̕͠t̴̩̺͆̂̓͐̕ḣ̵͉͍̣ȧ̷̫̙̞̐͘r̴̛̛͉̟̓̌̿͛s̴̛̮̞̫̝͉͆̈̀ị̸̗͓͍́͑ș̴̛͊̐̋͝t̸̞͗͐

@silver21

I think I'm good at listening...

A crack opens in the air, not in the floor or the walls but in the space itself, spreading slowly.

...and I thought maybe Jay would want to get their whole story out first.

The world shatters. Where the coffeeshop was, there is now a plain dark gray room with yellow and white accents, folding chairs in a loose circle: Jay's Catharsis.

Where the creature was sits a woman in large glasses and a pastel yellow sundress, a white cardigan over her shoulders. Brown hair held back by a simple hairband, curling at the edges where it escaped. A clipboard on her crossed knee.

"You remember Wesley. His Catharsis took the shape of a party. Jay's is an online group therapy session."

Above Jay, clinging to the air just over their shoulders, is a shadow. Dark, indistinct, moving the way the shapes in the fog outside the coffeeshop moved. Crying in despair. Tears run down a face with no features, and the grief transfers directly to Sirpa, a deep sadness of feeling unheard.

The faces come from everywhere and nowhere, some of them familiar, most not. A woman is trying to explain what the doctor told her, and her friend begins talking about her own appointment, which is louder and also, it becomes clear, an entirely different subject, and then someone else joins in who seems to be recounting something from a podcast, and after a while the woman simply closes her mouth, because what would be the point. In a kitchen, a boy tells his father that he is afraid, and his father smiles in a way that is not unkind and says that everyone gets like that sometimes, and reaches for the remote. Elsewhere, a man tries to describe a difficult year, all of it, from the beginning, and the person across from him seizes on the one week in August when things were briefly all right, turning it over with enthusiasm, as though the other months had not been mentioned. And in a room that might once have been a living room, a girl is speaking steadily and carefully to someone who is reading a magazine, and she goes on speaking, adjusting her tone once or twice as though a different register might help, but the page keeps on turning.

The whispers of the dejected start to collect:

You say you're listening, but you're not.

^{Maybe I'm not saying it right.}

_{...But that's not what I said.}

You haven't heard a single thing I said.

I'm so tired of repeating myself.

^{It's like talking to a wall.}

Remote in hand, the Moderator presses pause, and the voices and visions stop together. She presses rewind. The images come apart, the shadow above Jay coming apart with them, until all that remains are two figures: Jay and the Moderator from a few minutes earlier. Somewhere in the middle of trying to get the whole thing out at once, Jay simply stopped. Mid-sentence. Not a choice, not a hesitation. The mechanism that turns thought into speech was no longer there. Shortly after, one of the group said they had no interest in sitting here watching someone work through their depression, and left. Jay apologized for driving them off. Then asked how many people were even still in the room. When the Moderator asked what they needed, the answer was simple enough: not an audience. A conversation that went both ways.

I think I'm good at listening... and I thought maybe Jay would want to get their whole story out first.

Overhead, the shadow reappears. "If you were actually listening, would your response to Jay's request to converse... be silence?"

The Moderator presses eject and the shadow vanishes.

"Waiting to hear someone out is a kindness. But I think what Jay was asking for was not to be heard to the end. They are asking to be met in the middle. Right now, silence will hurt them more." She meets Sirpa's eyes. "If you are not sure what to say, ask a question. Let them know someone is in the room. Help them finish their story. That is enough."

━━━━━━ ◈ ━━━━━━

What is Perceived

• Events here can only be perceived by Sirpa.

[Tlazolteotl]

Caught in a Snare

@silver21@DaftJive

The moth does not move while Damien weeps, and when the crying eases, it speaks. "Who told you you had to do this alone, Damien?"

One of its hands reaches over and rests on the chain holding Damien down.

"You said you want your friends safe. Have you asked them what they want for you?"

[silver21]

J̶͙̝̹͖͒̅̂̏͝͝ā̶̪̘̾̇̎̕y̷̗̦̖͊̀̑ͅ's̵̤̪̰̓͝ S̲͍̏̂͜͡i͑̏҉r͎̲͞p̰͔̅̏ȃ̷͍҉̥͒'̶̝̰͍́ͅs͖҉̲ C̸̭͓̤͓̘̱̑̀̾͝͠ą̸̟͈̯͖͐̉͛̾̕͠t̴̩̺͆̂̓͐̕ḣ̵͉͍̣ȧ̷̫̙̞̐͘r̴̛̛͉̟̓̌̿͛s̴̛̮̞̫̝͉͆̈̀ị̸̗͓͍́͑ș̴̛͊̐̋͝t̸̞͗͐

@Tlazolteotl@JJ Doe

"Oh."

How did she not see it before? The vision of the therapy space snapped into place and once it was there, it felt as if she had been there for hours. She could see the creature as therapist. She felt the uncomfortable folding chair beneath her. The soft yellow of the room stripped her of her comforts, all but for her tea which was now sitting in a thermos at her feet. There was nowhere to hide now.

She sat stiffly as she watched the images controlled by the therapist. Things were starting to make sense. The involuntary wave of sadness made her stomach lurch, and she pulled her legs under her chair. She thought of her tea, but did not move to retrieve it.

The view of Jay's perspective was disorienting. It was like she was a cartoon character that learned it was just a drawing and a voice. Was she even real? She must be. But seeing herself represented as an idea orchestrated by another person... It sent a shiver through her bones. But there was still more to think about.

"Waiting to hear someone out is a kindness. But I think what Jay was asking for was not to be heard to the end. They are asking to be met in the middle. Right now, silence will hurt them more."

That was confusing too. All her life, "listening" meant "shut your mouth and open your ears." Her parents had trained her to attend to conversation without speaking, lest she be disciplined. Excited or introspective interjections were to be stifled. It hadn't occurred to her that someone would actually want that. Why couldn't there be a instruction booklet about how to interact with people?

When Sirpa looked back at Jay, the room settled. The lights brightened, then dimmed slightly to a tolerable brightness. Not comfortable, but not overbearing. "Um," she started awkwardly. Should have thought of what I would say first before talking. "Did you...want to keep going? Did your, um, 'RP' group fizzle out?"

━━━━━━ ◈ ━━━━━━

What Is Perceived

When Sirpa looks at Jay, her words and actions are perceived by everyone.

[silver21]

Caught in a Snare

@DaftJive@Tlazolteotl

Damien swallowed hard, looked up at the moth. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice levelled. "They have enough going on as it is. Even if I were to tell them..." He glanced again at the frantic movements beyond the vines, then looked back at the moth. "Maybe I could. But it's not fair for me to ask them for so much when I've been lying to them. Not that I want to, I have to. Because of him. And even then, I wouldn't be able to escape...that." His head drooped as he sighed. "Maybe I'm a coward for trying to run away. I'm so tired."

[JJ Doe]

J̶͙̝̹͖͒̅̂̏͝͝ā̶̪̘̾̇̎̕y̷̗̦̖͊̀̑ͅ’s̵̤̪̰̓͝ ̷̮̤̋̽C̸̭͓̤͓̘̱̑̀̾͝͠ą̸̟͈̯͖͐̉͛̾̕͠t̴̩̺͆̂̓͐̕ḣ̵͉͍̣ȧ̷̫̙̞̐͘r̴̛̛͉̟̓̌̿͛s̴̛̮̞̫̝͉͆̈̀ị̸̗͓͍́͑ș̴̛͊̐̋͝t̸̞͗͐

@silver21@BaronOBeefDip@Tlazolteotl

Sirpa’s question swung the spotlight back onto Jay, who had somehow not seen it coming, and for a moment Jay just sat there blinking. Their eyes drifted over to Dr. Everson, who was still standing at the edge of the circle, and it felt rude to launch into answering while the doctor was hovering, so Jay waved at one of the empty folding chairs instead. “You can, uh, take a seat, if you’d like.”

“Did it fizzle out,” Jay echoed, mostly to themselves. “I guess I never really made that clear. The RP’s still going, I was kicked out because I was ‘negatively impacting the GM’s mental health.’ You can probably scroll down and find it. I haven’t actually checked on it myself since the falling out. But, according to some people I’ve been talking to, it’s been using more and more AI, and just gotten.” Jay hesitated, because the next word wasn’t one they particularly liked. “Bland.”

“Which, on its own, isn’t a death sentence. Every RP hits slow patches; that’s just how it goes. The first major slowdown in ❀✿❁✾❁ & †‡⚔⚔⚒⛏☠ hit around six months in, and at the time I was still operating on the assumption that the GMs had storylines queued up for everybody’s characters. So I was mostly just waiting. Stalling, honestly. Most of my posts back then were foreshadowing, or seeding details for others to use and build on.”

Pulling in a slower, longer breath before going on, Jay felt the next part catch a little. “Which turned out to be wasted effort, on... kind of a lot of levels, actually. It eventually became clear that, one, almost nobody was reading the posts. Not even the GMs. At best they were skimming. One of them, Not-A-Queen, admitted to it. And two, for some reason a lot of people seemed to have gotten the idea that I had my own, like, self-contained thing going on over in a corner somewhere. So there wasn’t really any attempt to engage with my characters, or pick up on the stuff I was actually putting out there. I just............was there?”

Somewhere in there a tangent had happened, and Jay shook their head at themselves for it.

“Sorry. I’m derailing. Uh. What was I. Right. The first big slowdown.”

After a second to reset, Jay picked up where they’d left off.

“So. To get engagement back up, Not-A-Queen started trying some OOC things. Stuff like player character tier lists, favorite character polls, that kind of thing. Which. Honestly made me uncomfortable. One of my characters actually won one of the favorite character polls. But I kept thinking about what it would feel like to not even make the top three. Or worse, to not even be on the list at all. Because that happened too. That same character of mine who won the favorite character poll? Wasn’t even a selectable option on any of the tier lists. And a few other characters got the same treatment. If I’m being honest, the rankings felt kind of rigged—not maliciously, more like they were curated by the GMs and the GMs’ posse to manage everyone's feelings.” Jay went quiet for a second. “Looking back, I think what I was actually seeing was the hierarchy. Just in an early form. For a long time I gave Not-A-Queen the benefit of the doubt. I thought she genuinely believed she wasn’t playing favorites. But small moments like these kept piling up, and by the time I got kicked out it wasn’t subtle anymore.”

Across the circle, Jay’s eyes found Sirpa again.

“Have you ever been in a situation like that? Where you can see it happening, but no one else seems to acknowledge it?”

[TheTf2Scout]

A red glowing light enters the room I appear eating a sandwich
shocked I grab my scattershot and aims at Spria and Jay and says where am I
(In mind I accidentally went to engineers experiments room and i accidentally touched teleporter and it sent me here!? Oh god I need to find a way out*)

[TheTf2Scout]

A red glowing light enters the room I appear eating a sandwich
shocked I grab my scattershot and aims at Spria and Jay and says where am I
(In mind I accidentally went to engineers experiments room and i accidentally touched teleporter and it sent me here!? Oh god I need to find a way out*)

@TheTf2Scout

Oh f I'm 11 years old man I just wanted to rp. Disappears*

[Tlazolteotl]

Caught in a Snare

@silver21@DaftJive

"You've been carrying all this alone for a long time, Damien. Of course you're tired."

Gently, its hand lifts from the chain to rest on top of Damien's head. Behind the moth, the dark thickens and Viné's eyes open in it, glowing. But the moth ignores Viné entirely. "You don't have to believe everything Viné said. He is the reason you lie to your friends. These chains are of his making. And he never gave you a real choice."

Its thumb brushes across Damien's forehead. "If you woke up tomorrow and Viné was gone, what would you do first?"

[silver21]

J̶͙̝̹͖͒̅̂̏͝͝ā̶̪̘̾̇̎̕y̷̗̦̖͊̀̑ͅ's̵̤̪̰̓͝ C̸̭͓̤͓̘̱̑̀̾͝͠ą̸̟͈̯͖͐̉͛̾̕͠t̴̩̺͆̂̓͐̕ḣ̵͉͍̣ȧ̷̫̙̞̐͘r̴̛̛͉̟̓̌̿͛s̴̛̮̞̫̝͉͆̈̀ị̸̗͓͍́͑ș̴̛͊̐̋͝t̸̞͗͐

@Tlazolteotl@JJ Doe

Ah, a question. Now Sirpa felt sure it was time for her to respond. "Um, I think so." She thought for a moment longer. "I think so," she repeated. She paused, thinking over everything Jay had said before speaking again. "So, um, those people kicked you out. They said it was because you were hurting someone's mental health? But they gave you a 'favorite character award?' That's confusing."

For a short moment, a memory flashed across her awareness. Of hurtful intent disguised as niceties. "It sounds like they're bullies," she continued. "Good riddance to not be involved anymore, I would think."