[ An equally anxious reply, but is he overthinking it? She might understand - a lot of people would understand. Yet still, he feels an odd lump in his throat. He's glad the gas mask covers up his expression. He wonders if it muffles the tone of his voice.
Involuntarily, he rubs his forehead (just feels the old leather of the mask instead of skin and sighs) as he gestures for Sharon to enter - feeling like he should at least welcome her in before he starts saying whatever he wants. ]
It's still kind of ... well, it isn't 100% face-to-face but still feels better than just... through a connection.
[ The gas mask unsettles her more than she'd like to admit, dredging up memories of the miners' gear the Brethren used to wear. ] You... can't take it off for a little bit? [ She wants to see his face, needs to, really—especially if this conversation is important enough to be spoken about in person. ] Just for this, maybe?
[ It's a pause before he undoes the straps of the mask. His shoulders drop before he pulls it free - his face has become much more fish-like since they last spoke. Gills and fins extending out past his face. Pressed down against his skin thanks to the mask, he lets out a half sigh. Some of his hair even seems like it's starting to fall out in place of scales and more decorative attachments. ]
[ Sharon straightens a little as the mask comes off, her eyes widening as she takes in just how far the changes have gone. It's what happens with Offerings, she knows that, but seeing it is always something else, the way a body can shift so completely. Murphy doesn't look like he did when they first met, that's for sure. ]
I don't know how you stand wearing that thing. It's gotta be hot. [ She pointedly avoids mentioning the changes outright. She's known plenty of Offerings who struggle with what they've become, and the last thing she wants is to press on something that might still hurt.
She steps further into the shop, digging into her tote bag before pulling out a small bundle of biscuits. ] Brought you something to eat. Just the kind you make with mix. [ Add water, mix, bake. ] A little dry, but... [ Her voice trails off as she offers them over, a bit awkward. ]
It's kind of uncomfortable. [ He gives a little shrug of his shoulders. ] But I mean, it connects me to the Murmur so I know if anyone needs me.
[ His head tilts the opposite way as he had made peace with the fact he has to wear it - and hey, it keeps him from having to see how his face is changing. ]
Ah - thanks. [ A glance at the tote bag as he wonders how he thought this was gonna go down. Stand outside, say his bit, then walk back inside? His eyes roll up as he really didn't think it through, but he makes a gesture to have her come into the garage at least. ]
I've been keeping something from you and I felt ... like it was time to come clean about it.
[ The inside of the mechanic's shop is more or less cleaned out. It's more like a hovel he's been trying to live in than anything else. Complete with a metal drum to use to make fire when it gets freezing cold at night. The wrench set in a place of "honor" because it does act as a light and always shines toward the exit. ]
[ Not exactly the kind of place she would've pictured Murphy hiding out in—and it even came with a hobo drum. Still, Sharon wasn't in any position to judge. The only reason she had somewhere better to stay was because a couple of men decided she shouldn't be living like a damn stray and took her in.
The moment he says he needs to come clean about something, anxiety spikes hard in her chest. Sharon doesn't step away, but her eyes narrow slightly, caution settling in fast. The last time someone sat her down for a confession, they'd admitted to being part of the cult. ]
Okay. Out with it, then. [ Please. Please don't let this be another cult member. She doesn't think her trust could take a hit like that again. ]
[ Letting out a long exhale, he sets himself down on one of the makeshift chairs he dragged in. Metal that has had the mold scrapped off it. Something to prove that he has some control over the area he is in. ]
My son ... he was killed. [ He drops his hands in front of his body, twiddles his thumbs together. ] It is why I fell apart and left everyone around me. [ His gaze drifts down before snapping up so he can look her in the face. ]
The man who killed him... I found out where he was sent to prison. [ His mouth quirks as the fins around his face flare out. ] I worked to be sent there. I worked with a real piece of shit guard... all so I could kill him with my bare hands.
[ He brings his hands together, interfacing his fingers and tries not to make a face about the webbing. ] I destroyed everything just to kill one man [ A beat. ] That is why... nothing is waiting for me back home.
I just... didn't want to lie to you anymore. Lying by omission, anyway.
[ Sharon knew he'd lost his son, but she'd never imagined his son had been murdered. Her brow furrows as she listens, the shape of it settling heavily into place. That loss had ruined his life. No—not the loss alone. A man had ruined his life. Stolen his son, stolen every future he'd imagined for them both, and left him standing in the wreckage to pick up the pieces—
—but he couldn't.
She'd seen what losing Alessa had done to Dahlia, how grief had hollowed her out and driven her to madness, but Dahlia had never hunted down the person responsible. Never tried to make the world bleed for it. That might've gone a long way to mending Alessa's heart, to know she'd cared enough to even try.
Murphy burned the rest of his own life to the ground just to kill one man. Sharon is quiet for a long moment, gaze unfocused as she turns it over in her head. Then, finally, she drags a chair across the floor and lowers herself beside him, setting her bag carefully at her feet. ]
I appreciate you telling me. [ Softly. ] It, uh... I can't really say it changes anything. I don't—[ A huff, a frown pulling at her lips. ] I get it. And I don't judge you for it. Not even for not telling me. [ Is that how a normal girl would respond to something like this? ]
I think you did what you had to do. Sometimes that means sacrificing yourself to make sure it gets done. Not many parents would've gone that far. [ Something warm and aching blooms in her chest—not pity, but admiration. ]
I know there are people who'd tell you your son wouldn't have wanted this for you. But they don't get to decide that. They didn't know him, and they certainly don't know how pain can change someone. [ For all anyone knew, Murphy's son craved justice as much as he did. ] Did it help at all?
[ Murphy isn't sure how he feels about her dragging a chair over to sit across from him. He had been sitting, confessing, as she stood to listen to the story of what he's done.
The corner of his mouth almost flickers into a smile - something humorless - as he agrees there isn't anything she can say to change but he appreciates that she wants to try.
He breathes out and his shoulders lower that she doesn't judge him.
And he's quiet as he listens to what she has to say. ]
In Silent Hill, the town manifested him for me. He was... happy. [ His head gives a shake. ] I don't know if that was my projection, though. [ His eyebrows - or the ridges of his eyebrows - come together. ]
Honestly? [ As he is being honest? ] It felt good kill him. It wasn't just Charlie that monster killed. [ His face twitches involuntarily. ] But it didn't bring my son back to me.
And that piece of shit guard... he pinned another murder on me. [ He huffs out a laugh. ] He covered up me killing that monster and instead had me take the fall of the death of someone else.
Someone that he wanted dead 'cause that guy knew he was a fucking plague even if he helped me. [ A small weak sigh. ] And I accepted it. I figured... my life was already over.
[ The town had manifested his son happy. Sharon doesn't know what to make of that. As far as she knows, no one has ever stumbled across happiness in that festering pit of a place. Not without some catch. If the town had shown Murphy his son smiling, then there had to be a reason for it. But projection or not, he'd seen his son again. He'd gotten to see him happy. That was either a gift or something far crueler—a way to press against a wound that had never stopped bleeding, to tear it open just enough to keep it fresh. ] Does it matter?
[ When Murphy admits he'd felt good killing the man, Sharon doesn't flinch. Maybe once, she would've judged him for saying it so plainly. Maybe once, she'd have recoiled from the honesty of it. But now? Now she understands. How could she not? There is a particular kind of satisfaction in revenge, intoxicating in a way little else can match. The ugly relief of knowing one less monster is allowed to keep breathing. It doesn't fix anything. It doesn't give them back what was taken. But that had never been the point.
Nothing was ever going to bring his son back. ]
Jesus... that's so fucked, Murphy. [ Sharon mutters, her face twisting as her thoughts catch on the guard. That detail settles badly in her stomach. ] I don't understand why you'd just... Why take the blame? I get that you thought your life was over, but...
[ She can understand his quest for revenge, she can understand if he did awful things to get there—but to then take the blame for a different murder? This is what she can't understand. ]
[ His head is a mess when he thinks of the Charlie he saw. He knows it's because of being aware of Maria's existence. Was the Charlie he saw a living, breathing entity? Did he have his son's memories? Did he only exist for that short time before ceasing to be? Or was he still wandering that town?
It's worse to think he's still in that town.
But he already knows he wouldn't be able to take that Charlie home. It'd be nice until the horror would set in - having something that wears his son's face.
But that's the town's fault... not that Charlie's.
His hands shake and shudder before he fixes on her question instead. ]
Because all the signs were there that he wanted that man dead and I didn't do enough to save him.
[ It sounds like some excuse. Like some self-serving excuse and he hates it. ]
Coleridge. The man who died was Coleridge.
[ No need to name Sewell. ]
He was killed in front of me. I was ... right there! I was right there again! I wasn't able ... [ His voice started to rise before he quiets down. ] ... that guard that killed him was never going to go down for it.
All I could and can do was accept my guilt in not doing more... and let the family feel a little better a monster was killed.
[ Yeah, he was given the death penalty for Sewell's lie, and just moved to another prison until it was time to go. ]
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no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 07:33 pm (UTC)[ An equally anxious reply, but is he overthinking it? She might understand - a lot of people would understand. Yet still, he feels an odd lump in his throat. He's glad the gas mask covers up his expression. He wonders if it muffles the tone of his voice.
Involuntarily, he rubs his forehead (just feels the old leather of the mask instead of skin and sighs) as he gestures for Sharon to enter - feeling like he should at least welcome her in before he starts saying whatever he wants. ]
It's still kind of ... well, it isn't 100% face-to-face but still feels better than just... through a connection.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-05-04 02:13 am (UTC)[ It's a pause before he undoes the straps of the mask. His shoulders drop before he pulls it free - his face has become much more fish-like since they last spoke. Gills and fins extending out past his face. Pressed down against his skin thanks to the mask, he lets out a half sigh. Some of his hair even seems like it's starting to fall out in place of scales and more decorative attachments. ]
... okay.
[ A half-sigh. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-05-05 05:41 pm (UTC)I don't know how you stand wearing that thing. It's gotta be hot. [ She pointedly avoids mentioning the changes outright. She's known plenty of Offerings who struggle with what they've become, and the last thing she wants is to press on something that might still hurt.
She steps further into the shop, digging into her tote bag before pulling out a small bundle of biscuits. ] Brought you something to eat. Just the kind you make with mix. [ Add water, mix, bake. ] A little dry, but... [ Her voice trails off as she offers them over, a bit awkward. ]
So, uh... what did you want to talk about?
no subject
Date: 2026-05-06 04:19 am (UTC)[ His head tilts the opposite way as he had made peace with the fact he has to wear it - and hey, it keeps him from having to see how his face is changing. ]
Ah - thanks. [ A glance at the tote bag as he wonders how he thought this was gonna go down. Stand outside, say his bit, then walk back inside? His eyes roll up as he really didn't think it through, but he makes a gesture to have her come into the garage at least. ]
I've been keeping something from you and I felt ... like it was time to come clean about it.
[ The inside of the mechanic's shop is more or less cleaned out. It's more like a hovel he's been trying to live in than anything else. Complete with a metal drum to use to make fire when it gets freezing cold at night. The wrench set in a place of "honor" because it does act as a light and always shines toward the exit. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-05-07 03:24 am (UTC)The moment he says he needs to come clean about something, anxiety spikes hard in her chest. Sharon doesn't step away, but her eyes narrow slightly, caution settling in fast. The last time someone sat her down for a confession, they'd admitted to being part of the cult. ]
Okay. Out with it, then. [ Please. Please don't let this be another cult member. She doesn't think her trust could take a hit like that again. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-05-07 03:39 am (UTC)My son ... he was killed. [ He drops his hands in front of his body, twiddles his thumbs together. ] It is why I fell apart and left everyone around me. [ His gaze drifts down before snapping up so he can look her in the face. ]
The man who killed him... I found out where he was sent to prison. [ His mouth quirks as the fins around his face flare out. ] I worked to be sent there. I worked with a real piece of shit guard... all so I could kill him with my bare hands.
[ He brings his hands together, interfacing his fingers and tries not to make a face about the webbing. ] I destroyed everything just to kill one man [ A beat. ] That is why... nothing is waiting for me back home.
I just... didn't want to lie to you anymore. Lying by omission, anyway.
no subject
Date: 2026-05-08 02:16 am (UTC)—but he couldn't.
She'd seen what losing Alessa had done to Dahlia, how grief had hollowed her out and driven her to madness, but Dahlia had never hunted down the person responsible. Never tried to make the world bleed for it. That might've gone a long way to mending Alessa's heart, to know she'd cared enough to even try.
Murphy burned the rest of his own life to the ground just to kill one man. Sharon is quiet for a long moment, gaze unfocused as she turns it over in her head. Then, finally, she drags a chair across the floor and lowers herself beside him, setting her bag carefully at her feet. ]
I appreciate you telling me. [ Softly. ] It, uh... I can't really say it changes anything. I don't—[ A huff, a frown pulling at her lips. ] I get it. And I don't judge you for it. Not even for not telling me. [ Is that how a normal girl would respond to something like this? ]
I think you did what you had to do. Sometimes that means sacrificing yourself to make sure it gets done. Not many parents would've gone that far. [ Something warm and aching blooms in her chest—not pity, but admiration. ]
I know there are people who'd tell you your son wouldn't have wanted this for you. But they don't get to decide that. They didn't know him, and they certainly don't know how pain can change someone. [ For all anyone knew, Murphy's son craved justice as much as he did. ] Did it help at all?
no subject
Date: 2026-05-08 02:26 am (UTC)The corner of his mouth almost flickers into a smile - something humorless - as he agrees there isn't anything she can say to change but he appreciates that she wants to try.
He breathes out and his shoulders lower that she doesn't judge him.
And he's quiet as he listens to what she has to say. ]
In Silent Hill, the town manifested him for me. He was... happy. [ His head gives a shake. ] I don't know if that was my projection, though. [ His eyebrows - or the ridges of his eyebrows - come together. ]
Honestly? [ As he is being honest? ] It felt good kill him. It wasn't just Charlie that monster killed. [ His face twitches involuntarily. ] But it didn't bring my son back to me.
And that piece of shit guard... he pinned another murder on me. [ He huffs out a laugh. ] He covered up me killing that monster and instead had me take the fall of the death of someone else.
Someone that he wanted dead 'cause that guy knew he was a fucking plague even if he helped me. [ A small weak sigh. ] And I accepted it. I figured... my life was already over.
Why not let it burn a little more?
no subject
Date: 2026-05-09 03:25 am (UTC)[ When Murphy admits he'd felt good killing the man, Sharon doesn't flinch. Maybe once, she would've judged him for saying it so plainly. Maybe once, she'd have recoiled from the honesty of it. But now? Now she understands. How could she not? There is a particular kind of satisfaction in revenge, intoxicating in a way little else can match. The ugly relief of knowing one less monster is allowed to keep breathing. It doesn't fix anything. It doesn't give them back what was taken. But that had never been the point.
Nothing was ever going to bring his son back. ]
Jesus... that's so fucked, Murphy. [ Sharon mutters, her face twisting as her thoughts catch on the guard. That detail settles badly in her stomach. ] I don't understand why you'd just... Why take the blame? I get that you thought your life was over, but...
[ She can understand his quest for revenge, she can understand if he did awful things to get there—but to then take the blame for a different murder? This is what she can't understand. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-05-09 03:56 am (UTC)[ His head is a mess when he thinks of the Charlie he saw. He knows it's because of being aware of Maria's existence. Was the Charlie he saw a living, breathing entity? Did he have his son's memories? Did he only exist for that short time before ceasing to be? Or was he still wandering that town?
It's worse to think he's still in that town.
But he already knows he wouldn't be able to take that Charlie home. It'd be nice until the horror would set in - having something that wears his son's face.
But that's the town's fault... not that Charlie's.
His hands shake and shudder before he fixes on her question instead. ]
Because all the signs were there that he wanted that man dead and I didn't do enough to save him.
[ It sounds like some excuse. Like some self-serving excuse and he hates it. ]
Coleridge. The man who died was Coleridge.
[ No need to name Sewell. ]
He was killed in front of me. I was ... right there! I was right there again! I wasn't able ... [ His voice started to rise before he quiets down. ] ... that guard that killed him was never going to go down for it.
All I could and can do was accept my guilt in not doing more... and let the family feel a little better a monster was killed.
[ Yeah, he was given the death penalty for Sewell's lie, and just moved to another prison until it was time to go. ]
But now I'm taking that from them.