logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

characters: everyone.
location: around town.
date/time: october 9-17.
content: the hallucinations begin...
warnings: psychological horror. please cw tags appropriately.

it's probably something that shouldn't be said out loud

October 9 feels like a normal day at first, save for the red lighthouse beam cutting through the darkness overhead. You know by now—or you've heard—that the lighthouse is only active during ferry arrivals and events... And there's definitely no ferry docked at the, er. Beach. The town is quiet, the forest spirits behave business-as-usual, Rastus doesn't know what's up. Whatever's going on, you'll have to figure it out for yourself.

And you will, though the hallucinations are subtle at first: objects moving when they shouldn't, people's proportions looking just a bit off, voices in an empty room, and so on. Is it just your mind playing tricks in the darkness? Might be! Will did warn you all about the effects of living without a sun and a proper day/night cycle.

As the days go on, the hallucinations are harder to ignore, no matter how much you may wish to wave them off as flukes. What's wrong with everyone's faces? When did all the howling start? Who do you hold onto when the world drops out from under you? And those hands...

While you might know it can't be real, it certainly feels real. But at least it can't last forever!

...Right?

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Will you stop saying that!

--And yes, I did! Because the way it was presented to me was you or me, and Crowley, I--

[ He holds in a breath and looks blue in the face.

He takes a breath and whispers: ]

It's just as easy a decision for me as it is for you.

[Crowley steps forward, leaning heavily on his good leg as he gets up in the angel's space]

No, it's not an easy decision, it's not a decision you get to make! You don't get to just decide that I have to live without you! If it's you or me, you let me die, do you hear me?

And why do you get to make that decision for me?

[ Aziraphale places a hand on Crowley's chest, but only to push him back a little so he's not all the way up in Aziraphale's face. ]

I won't hear it. I won't let you die, you utter ruinous bastard! And I am taking you home, and I don't want to talk about this with you anymore!

[Crowley reaches out a hand to catch his wrist, partially to stop him from pushing him away and partially to balance himself on something solid]

You almost died----you almost killed yourself and you think I'm just going to let this go?

For you! I thought I was saving you, and I couldn't bear it if I hadn't. If I'd let you die, Crowley.

It was so real. It was so real, and then-- then you were gone. For a whole second you were gone. So don't-- don't tell me not to because I'd do it again!

"Who she is, not what," he corrects gently. Soldat may not think of himself as a person, and so frequently refers to himself as a thing, and that's his choice - but it would be a shame to misspeak around Mary even if he didn't mean to offend. She is a person, no matter her origins, and it's best for her if they all help to reinforce that.

"And you don't have to consider yourself property either, you know. You're your own person here. In control of your own life."

Well, most of the time, since it literally looks like he's being controlled by an invisible puppeteer and too many hands right now, but he's glad that at least in this moment, he's certain those things aren't real.

The Soldier might not be afraid of anything, as such, right now-- but it sure can still be startled, as that produces a twitch so unexpected it almost drops the nearly-gone cigarette. It looks over at Rosinante with an aggrieved expression. You almost cost it the last two hits, pal, not nice.

"Not a person," it says, though it's more automatic than painful at this point. Aside from Mary's statement the other day, anyway. "My own, or otherwise. Not exactly property, either, though. Just a weapon that needs a hand to point it in the right direction." It shrugs, finishes off the cigarette finally, and drops it into the dirt to rub the last spark out under its boot. "But Mary deserves better than that."

Don't you dare! Don't you dare! I thought I lost you once and that was the worst thing in the whole universe, Aziraphale!

[He crowds in Aziraphale's space more]

Do you think I'm sorry about the ferry? I'm not! Do you think I care about the people who were hurt? I don't! I don't care about anyone on this stupid rock except me, do you hear me? I'm a demonic monster and I'm not going to change for anyone!

That's why you have to live, to save the people who are here!

[Darn. Ah, well. At least he's not going to think to ask.

The Sergeant doesn't sigh. The house is further than the Invincible, which means making conversation for longer, and possibly making Aziraphale more weirded out. Well. For coffee, he'll do it. Better not let him down, angel.]

Sure thing.

[And he swats vaguely at a hand grabbing for his hair. He combed that shit clean today, no messing it up. At least he understands chatting better than the Soldier does.]

How's the arm? Please tell me you're taking better care of it than Crowley is his leg.

So you expect me to bear losing you instead? That's not fair!

[ Now he's just sort of banging on Crowley's chest with his palms out. Not hard, just in a frustrated way. ]

And don't you dare lie to me, I know you care! If you didn't, you wouldn't say that I had to be the one to stay and save everyone! Do you even hear what you are saying?

You care, and if I was gone, you wouldn't be helping everyone because I would want you to, but because you would want to!

I don't care what you say about demonic nature, you're not like them!

Well, that's not an opinion that's going to change any time soon, then. The reaction was reflexive. Beyond training and into something like brainwashing, which he'd noted before but had hoped by no there was some chance it might not hold with enough insistence. Does it matter to him? Not really. It's a shame, but if the soldier is going to insist, then he'll let it be.

"Pick that up," he says, nodding to the butt. "My agreement with Rastus. He doesn't want litter sitting around."

I think I'd have to be actively bashing it against the wall to be taking care of it less well than Crowley is taking care of his leg.

But yes, I think I'll make a full recovery soon. Watch.

[ He wiggles his fingers. This is new. ]

--I really hope these hands go away, they are truly disturbing--

--You aren't hurt, are you?

[ He doesn't mean just physically. ]

[He grabs Aziraphale's wrists again, holding him to keep him from banging on him]

I am! I'm exactly like them! I'm like every single one of them!

So you can't die for me! Think about what you're saying, angel! Just think about the sacrifice you'd make! I'm not worth it!

[ Now desperate, he doesn't even move his arms away. ]

Yes you are!

[ He shouts that part, but gets slightly quieter. ]

Yes you are, Crowley, and you always have been. You think that just because you're a demon, you aren't capable of good. And I've let it go because it would have been dangerous for you, if Hell found out, but Hell isn't here. And you haven't lost it, not even a Fall could make you lose all your light! Or were you not already Fallen when you showed Jesus the world? When you saved me? When you saved the entire world with me?

I'm not good! You know I'm not good!

You, angel, you're---

[he also gets quieter]

You're the best person I know.

[ He wrests a wrist out of Crowley's grip and lays it on his cheek, gently. ]

My dear boy, I don't know how you can say you're like the other demons when you tell me things like this.

[ Soft things. Nice things. Things that let Aziraphale know that he still has that spark in him, that smoldering burn of hope and goodness that's too bright to snuff out, that God had crafted too well to ever be destroyed, even by Her own hand. ]

[Crowley, in equal measure, wants to lean into the touch on his face and also totally wrench away from it. Aziraphale is not going to distract him. He almost fucking died like thirty seconds ago.

His voice stays low]

Don't die for me, Aziraphale.

I couldn't live with you dying for me.

Edited 2019-10-16 01:46 (UTC)

Well, don't... die for me either, Crowley.

[ He looks up in his eyes and only just realizes how close he is now that Aziraphale is holding his cheek. He thinks about all that's happened this week, these past two months: the two of them had saved the world and died, and had ended up here, and fucked up royally several dozens of times along the way.

And yet, here Crowley was, having had six thousand years of history with him, still his best friend, still shining like a beacon for him, calling him home.

There's a softly filtered pause that sits between them, broken only by a breezy salt spray. Yet, this close, Aziraphale can't feel anything but radiating warmth, and all he can think of is:

We don't have time.

Nobody is watching.

He reaches up, and slides the dark glasses off of Crowley's nose. ]

[Aziraphale takes off his sunglasses, and he can see the angel there, so close to him now. When did they get so close? They're both on the beach, both totally soaked, and standing practically in each others' arms like they weren't just having a row about who deserved to die for who.

(Which, oddly enough, was not the stupidest argument they had ever had in their 6000 year friendship.)

They were totally trapped here. Humanized. Possibly aging to death. And all Crowley could think was how, some fifty years ago, he was moving too fast for Aziraphale. Could that have changed, now that they were here? Now that they didn't have any time? Now that they didn't have any sides?

He stands, looking down at Aziraphale, frozen in the moment.]

[For the most part he did well ignoring the hallucinations and other strange things going on. Being from the Netherrealm meant he was mostly used to random hands popping out from the ground and terrible sounds. It just went with the territory.

Though some of the hands grabbing at him looked like souls that tore him apart. And that sort of bothered him.

He went through several shadow portals to get away from sights and another things he reminded himself were just annoyances until he got to the water. He didn't expect to find anyone here. Of course all of all the spots he picked ...

He went to teleport to another area when she spoke, he didn't sigh but was pretty close.]

Many things are wrong here, you will have to be more specific.

[She summons animals at her side, oddly similar to Nightwolf and he pauses in confusion just long enough for them to nearly be on him before he reacts. What is his mind playing at? He hadn't thought about Nightwolf in years, other than pondering occasionally how to release all of the revenants Quan Chi had enslaved.

Summoning an ice axe in his hand he swings at the wolves, backing up and putting distance between the two of them. ]

Kettara?

[He sounds questioning, like he's honestly not sure if this is her or just another hallucination. He's holding the axe one handed, ready to blast her with ice should she get closer. The only thing keeping him from truly attacking is the thought that this might not be real. There might not be a person there at all in which case he's attacking the empty air. But it would be far worse if there actually was. This could be anyone. He can't trust his own mind right now.]

[ If Aziraphale knew that Crowley would hold onto those words specifically and none other as hard as he had, he would have chosen them more carefully.

He clutches the glasses in one hand and looks up into Crowley's eyes, the color of gold, of stardust, of sunlight, of late nights drinking too much and of watching over him for six millennia.

The illusions are all gone, just whispers of seafoam, pale under the rich canvas of stars that look so much like the ones Crowley had painted so long ago. Why hadn't he taken more time to admire his work? Why hadn't he taken more time to admire the artist?

He thinks to himself, that Crowley is not like the other demons because he loves, and he is loved. His chin tilts gently to the right, and the tips of his fingers tug on Crowley's cheek, urging him back into motion. ]

( it's been a whole Month, hasn't it? first the smell, and that had been bad enough. Matt thinks he can still smell it, if he really tries. you'd think they were due for some calm after all that, though it doesn't seem to be the case. it's early enough yet that it isn't necessarily common knowledge yet, that people are seeing things.

it's especially not common for the guy that can't see at all.

he's heading toward the Invincible, actually trying to eat something (a stark contrast from the last week and change) when he hears the sharp and mildly panicked exclamation after a fairly bad cough. ) What's wrong? ( that was a bit of an unusual response to coughing, suffice to say. )

( things have been going south, and fairly quickly. Matt can't quite consider himself lucky to be blind, but for once it seems to be doing him a few favors. he can't see much of what is sending the residents of Beacon into a fervor. he hears things, off and on, but they're voices that he knows would never be here. the lack of cues of whoever was saying them made it easy to rationalize the whispers weren't real.

he's getting off easy on this one, all told, though that doesn't mean he's enjoying himself. he's plenty worried about everyone around him as they slowly lose grip on their sanity. there's only so many places one blind guy can be at once, and all too many people hallucinating.

Matt hears Jo approach, and the panic of her heartbeat slows him before she can say a thing. ) A hellhound? ( he can guess what that is by name alone, though he's not confident about any animals in Beacon. it won't do much for her fear to simply declare her wrong, and if she's right Matt doesn't want to tangle with anything that goes by the name of Hellhound. he obligingly follows. ) What are we dealing with, here? How far away was it?

[Aziraphale once told Crowley he moved too fast, so Crowley slowed down as much as he could. He practically stopped moving. He'd stay perfectly still by the angel's side as long as he was there, with him. It was always enough, then.

Then, Crowley thought Aziraphale had died.

Then, the world nearly ended.

Then, they both died and came here.

Then, Aziraphale almost doused his own lantern.

Maybe it's about time Crowley started moving again.]

Oh, sod it.

[He reaches up to cup Aziraphale's cheeks and brings his mouth down on the angel's, hard and fast before he changes his mind and backs away again.]

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EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

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