drop it, there's nothing more

[intelligently]

WHO: Lydia Martin + Ned
WHERE: The beach
WHEN: Day 102, evening
WHAT: Finding Wallie

[ In the early hours of the morning at house 17 there had been a loud scream, one that was certain to wake the residents of said house. That had been it, for the moment at least. Lydia had gone about her day, had spent time with Allison.

That evening it had changed. Lydia couldn't remember stopping her reading, putting down her book or leaving the house but she had. She was out of it, awake but not in her own mind. It was a fugue state, one that she'd experienced before, but not something that she'd expected to happen here.

Lydia had left her house, crossed the cape and made her way down to the beach. It was only after she'd gotten halfway across the beach that Lydia stopped walking, and snapped out of it.

She was confused, as confused as she'd been when she'd somehow driven to the pool. When she'd found the dead body.

Looking around for a moment her brow wrinkled, and she took a tentative step forward ]

O-kay. This is great.

[ When it happened that other night, when she'd called Stiles, it had been scary enough. But she was sleepwalking again, and she hoped this time it would be different ]

Comments

[nedofpies]

[ He's relieved when Lydia does what he asked, watches her setting her fingers to Wallie's neck, but he knows. Somehow he just knows that there won't be a pulse. He looks for as long as he can, but then he drops his gaze to his feet. Covering his face in his hands, he says ]

It's Wallie.

[ He can't fathom explaining more than that. Ned didn't know him all that well, but this isn't exactly a big place, and he isn't exactly an easy guy to miss. Just then Ned remembers how he'd been frightened of him at first, because Wallie was tall and had tattoos on his face. How as soon as they had spoken he had realized how narrow-minded and absurd that was of him, because Wallie was so kind, so mellow, so personable. Ned had always thought they would have more time to get to know one another. And now- ]

He's dead isn't he? [ Ned's voice is stiff, flat. It is more of a statement than a question ]

[intelligently]

[ There's a slow nod from Lydia before she turns her head back to look at Ned, pulling her hand back from Wallie. Stiles had done this last time, and she'd been the one to watch in horror. Watching had been enough, she'd never want to do it or expect that she'd have to. But she had, and seeing the body and believing it to be dead was far different from actually discovering that yourself ]

Yeah. He's dead.

[nedofpies]

[ Ned nods slowly, running a hand through his hair and letting out a slow, shaky breath. His thoughts are sluggish and disjointed. He doesn't know what he should do first, say first. Behind it all, he can feel guilt poised to strike. He hadn't gone out to help, had stayed behind, and Wallie had gotten killed. All logic points to the fact that it's hardly his fault, alone, if his fault at all, but logic has no power over his predisposition towards guilt and self-loathing. But all of it is strangely distant, for now. He knows it will hit him, and hit him hard, but he still can't quite believe that it's true. He wasn't even all that close to Wallie, but he seemed such a decent, such a pleasant person ]

[ His attention turns to Lydia, to the expression of horror fixed on her face. He doesn't know if this is the first time she's seen a dead body, much less touched one. Ned takes a few steps closer to her, looks concerned ]

You gonna be okay? [ Even if this is her first time seeing a body she seems - to Ned, anyway - unduly alarmed ]