neopoints | eddie psl post.

[ Death is not simple in the Upside Down.

First, the body stops. That in itself is a slow process due to the stasis of the realm. What should be instant and relatively painless is excruciating. Dustin holds him as the shock sets in, goes running for help when Eddie goes still in his arms - but a return to the present would do nothing but kill him. The party's merry bard was half-eaten, hovering on a knife's edge - trying to bring him into the real world without immediate medical attention would simply kill him faster. A mercy, perhaps, but not one the world sees fit to give him.

When Dustin returns, there's just a pool of blood where he'd lain. They have no answers as to where he'd gone - hoping perhaps that he'd survived, but near certain that something else had just come along and taken it.

The corpses of the monsters hide the footsteps of the thief.

The second death is different. A slow decay of the mind and soul, twisting in the loneliness and terror of this realm. Few retain enough of themselves to truly survive it, most devolving into the mindless flesh beasts that exist as a small part of Vecna's great whole. One was not truly dead until they couldn't differentiate themself from Henry Creel. The last echoing notes of his solo serve as salvation for one such unfortunate creature. One who seeks him out, finding him cold, alone, and afraid on a battlefield he had no place in.

He doesn't remember much of the journey. Just his fingers fisting in a bloody jacket, tears running down his face, pleading to be saved because he wasn't ready yet and this was meant to be his year. A different conversation than with the boy he'd put a brave face on for, what use did the dying have for dignity when faced with a stranger?

Eddie awakens in the bed of an unfamiliar house. Remembers little of whatever occurred before. His wounds are bandaged - not that it will do the leg much good, it's more meat than limb - and the blanket over him does little to stem the shivering. ]

Henderson? [ there's a wracking cough. The air is thick here, tinged with dust. The windows are boarded up, but he can tell the world outside is dark, dark, dark.] ... Anyone?

[It’s frustration that does it.

Max is almost fourteen; she’s capable, she’s street smart. She’s left alone with Billy for two weeks while Neil and Susan go out of town for a late honeymoon. At first it’s fine, because Max stays out of his way and he stays out of hers. It’s four days of blissful cohabitation without a single word exchanged, and then it breaks on the fifth.

See, Billy’s got a date Friday with Leslie McBride. It’s a sure thing: a movie, burgers, and then back to the Hargrove household. Max is supposed to be out. She’s supposed to be spending Friday with her stupid friends and then spending the night with Chief Hopper’s kid, and Billy’s supposed to have the place to himself. Then on Thursday Max drags herself to eat some cocopuffs and tells him she’s not going, because she and the Sinclair kid are on the outs and she doesn’t want to drag her weird friend away from her first game night in weeks.

Billy’s head goes into a white noise mode. He says you’re going and Max says no I’m not, and Billy says I have a goddamn date and Max rolls her eyes and tells him she’ll be fine home alone. It’s not till Billy tells her he’s supposed to be home alone that it clicks.

So she tells him she doesn’t care about Billy’s stupid date, and then it escalates from there. He says go do your fucking Fairy game, Maxine and she gets real bad and tells him he’s a prick (which he is, yeah). Billy doesn’t think anything of it; he’s grabbing his keys and going for the door, already trying to figure out how to get Leslie to fuck him at Skull Rock instead when he answers to her next question: I’m going out Maxine, maybe if I’m goddamn lucky the fairies will take you while I’m gone.

He buys smokes and uses his fake ID for a six pack. Calls Leslie from a payphone and takes some time to cool down. He expects to find Max sulking in her room when he gets back, but what he finds is -

Chaos. The windows and door open, the house a fucking mess. He sees red, tears through the halls screaming her name and finds moss and the smell of ozone where she should be. He hears his name - tears down the hall and room is the worst of all; the surfaces touched with what looks like morning dew, rose petals left behind, and there she is, there she is, held by some fucking stranger.

He’s so breathless with fury, barely registers the leather, the otherwordly gleam of his eyes. He’s so angry with the mess, with Max and whatever the fuck this is. He’s blinded by it. ] What the fuck do you think you’re playing at Maxine, [is what he says, taking a slow step towards them. ] Huh?

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