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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[It's far from the most flattering thing Javert has ever told her, certainly, and there's a part of Rosalind that judges him for it. Of course there is. She'd judge any man who arrested a woman without hearing her say; Javert isn't exempt from that. But he regrets it, and that matters.]

And her spirit haunts you?

[She says it softly, her expression still.]

What is this?

[ He asks, abruptly accusatory in the face of Bruce's smug expression. He points at the shot glass instead of at the bottles the young man is using to mix the drink, but maybe that's only because the shot glass is the more immediate culprit. It's not as if Vanitas thinks Bruce did something magical with it, but only because he's never seen the guy do anything even remotely magical. Even the people that are trying to hide it have tells.

Bruce would be a normal person, if he didn't do everything just slightly to the left. Just a little bit wrong to what Vanitas' limited understanding of the world and the universe dictates.

He only stops pointing when a hand shoves at the back of his knee, and Vanitas buckles on one side while maintaining his upright position with the other. Off in the corner, he hears the old man make a sound of disappointment. Steadfastly, Vanitas continues looking at Bruce, demanding his explanation, even as Vanitas starts to reach for the refilled shot glass. ]

Why does it taste like that?

[ there were a lot of questions he had, following that entire trail. but that seemed like something Peter might know about-- having been bitten by a radioactive spider. Why import plutonium? and if there were plutonium, was there a chance that there were other materials that would be of interest. he's tempted to write it down, but he can stave off that impulse until Bruce is gone.

but there's a bad taste in his mouth that Robin 1) knows, and 2) thinks it'll come in handy later. given everything he knows about her, and about the resets, he's sure it's safe to say that when she thinks something will be useful, there's no guarantee that it'll be in everyone's best interest. just hers. and her goal, which was not entirely clear, even still.

those are some of the thoughts racing through his mind as he tries to determine what his next move is, what he should do.

thank him?

that's too far. it's only one piece of a puzzle he knows they're both trying to solve. but it's something. ]

... Got it.

[ he has to catch himself. he should catch himself. but if there's anyone that can pull his annoyance and frustration, it's Robin. and there's a brief moment where he lets that wariness slip, and he exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. ]

Wonder for who.

_{[Why is he here, at this door of all doors? There's no straight answer to that, other than to say even people who have a PhD in the fields of loneliness and doubting the sanctity of their own mind would sometimes like to feel a little less lonely and a little less doubtful.

But right in this split second of time? He's feeling like this may have been a bad idea. Who answers a call like that? The answer to that is more simple: this guy does, apparently.

The small, brief opening in the door suffices to frame M.K.'s face and the way his brows already start to knit together in bewilderment before Riku tries to abruptly slam the door on him. Without thinking, he puts a hand out to smack against the wood, holding the door open before it can click all the way closed.]}

Hey!

_{[Riku's guess the indignation on the tail end of his surprise won't let him take this sitting down is correct.

It wouldn't be half so aggravating if not for that, despite being of a similar height, he'd surmise Riku has anywhere from fifteen to twenty pounds on him, all of it pure muscle. Holding the door even this much requires digging his feet in.]}

You do know you couldn't stop me if I wanted to get in, don't you?

_{[That's an objective fact, the put-out tone in his voice is just a figment of your imagination.]}

_{[He waits until he's confident she has a firm hold and her jittering isn't simply going to send the drink falling from loose fingers.]}

They're not.

_{[Of that, he's sure. Far more than sure than he'd be if these visions were invading so deep in they were rewriting the validity of their memories. Only oneself and the other people present could confirm the truth of a memory. These aren't that--these are lies more easily spotted and rooted out.]}

Just focus on this. This is real--the rest is just this place messing with your head.

[It's the first reaction he's seen out of this man that isn't frustration, or tightly coiled, tightly held, anger- and Bruce feels it wash through his entire body. How readily he echoes the sentiment. It's too soon to be tired, he hasn't come close to exhausting himself or his resources, there's no reason to be so aware of the weight of it.

You're still not ready.
In a moment of weakness Bruce's head turns towards the voice.

And it's there an apt irony in that. The man those words belong to isn't here, but it holds true all the same. How much longer is it going to take? How much more will it cost him? Bruce's eyes squeeze closed, a forced reset. In the moment he looks both too old, and too young.]

When I mentioned it to her at first she sounded surprised.
Said she didn't know it was here.

[You don't know anything about me.]

Will Ingram sounded similarly surprised. [His face turns in Todd's direction, barely visible for the darkness around them.] You wouldn't happen to have seen anything about it on his tablet, by any chance.

Edited 2019-10-21 05:31 (UTC)

Huh.

[ he didn't think Will would brag about that. and that surprise shows in his voice. but talking about this hews closely to talking about Tim. Or Dick. Or Damian. Talking about himself. there's the barest hint of his defenses going back up, as he straightens, and his look hardens. ]

I didn't. And here I thought I was being considerate by not bragging about beating his dumb firewalls. And he just went and told people anyway.

[ he pauses and leans back against the wall, still wary. still considering that he should tell him to leave, that their negotiations are over. But it was a surprise to be reminded of one thing, and one thing only: they were partners once.

everything he knew about solving puzzles was something Bruce had taught him. And it's enough to give him pause. As long as he can keep their relationship secret... ]

He didn't.

[The note of surprise would be enough for just about anyone to look self-satisfied and Bruce isn't incapable of smugness. He is pleased. But the only tell worth measuring at all is the sharp and deliberate place where his gaze lands- on Todd's profile as it shifts. As he comes to lean back against the wall.]

It was a lucky guess.

[Of all the comments and conversations he's followed across the network, doing something like that sounded like familiar ground for Parker. But if he had been responsible then why speak about his comfort with technology so candidly across the network in the first place?

Going that far was more than a matter of skill, it was a matter of desire. The person responsible would need to make a calculated decision, to know what they were looking for, to have the motive. Will Ingram has not been universally distrusted in the same way their lighthouse keeper has been.

And then, beyond all of that is one more fact- more subjective than the rest.
It's what Bruce would do.]

I have another question. As I suspect my time is running out.

The clear one you grabbed is flavored like chocolate.

[The accusatory timbre puts them on more familiar ground. Bruce doesn't have to make a deliberate decision to avoid coming across as arrogant, he just isn't. In some ways Vanitas reminds him of the uneasy teenager he'd once been- a mercurial child trying to understand a world that he had always believed to be one way, only to realize that it was precisely the opposite.

Bruce reaches for the clear bottle just to tilt it backwards, to bare the label as Vanitas buckles, shoved hard towards one side.]

But the alcohol content is strong enough that it doesn't taste very good on it's own. The taste is synthetic.

[The second bottle comes closer, a dark, opaque glass.]

This is a cream liquor and it's thick like milk. It helps to get rid of the unpleasant alcohol flavor so that when they're combined, you taste the chocolate.

[He takes the moment to carefully fill the rest of the shot glass, liquid held together by surface tension alone instead of spilling over.]

Not everyone drinks to forget.

[ if Will didn't tell him, then that meant that he had to get the truth from someone else. There were only two possible candidates, and if it was a guess, that really only meant there was one possible candidate. And he knew that he was going to need to have a conversation with Peter, soon. A frank one about how clever Bruce is by a half.

that much recognition shows in the soft grimace.

he hadn't wanted to brag. He'd rather not have the information out. Especially given what it likely would cost them in the end. But he doesn't move. not yet. ]

... What is it?

Yeah, it's kinda got ahold of your wrist there...

[He gestures at the hand--he's not touching it, you can't make him--and laughs, shaky and unsure.]

Super rude. And yeah, I'm...I'm okay. I'm just not really a dark and spooky person unless there's also an armchair and a bowl of popcorn involved, that's all.

[Hm. That's slightly awkward. But even if he couldn't see it, he should be able to feel it, right? Right? So thinks Prompto..]

But then we'd have to leave the fire.

[Which is bad. Fire = much warmth.]

But I could do with a blanket or three, so I don't stay here forever. [But where to go?] Uh...how about the bar?

[ the question marks only serve to further the strange sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, a kind of resigned realisation that ah, yes, he is losing the plot. he feels a little more accepting of it this time — that is, compared to some of the other times he'd thought he'd been cracking up. the first time had led to mysterio (and a long couch); he'd been so close that time to revealing his identity — he'd been so young, too, so inexperienced. truthfully, it felt like a lifetime ago now, and for as dangerous (and annoying) as mysterio could be, peter thinks he'd definitely prefer dealing with him instead of this.

his attention shifts away from the tablet to a set of swings. idly, he thinks about sitting in the swings, then he thinks about perching on top of the frame. once or twice — a conservative estimate — he's been told how weird and unnaturally he moves and sits when he's spider-man. his day-to-day life features a conscious effort to move just that little bit more slowly than is immediately natural for him, just that little bit more clumsily. when he's not thinking about it, or when he thinks no-one's looking (thanks, spider-sense, you're a babe), he forgets. every so often, he wonders if anyone's noticed, but luckily, apparently, that's just been jason.

now, his spider-sense doesn't warn him about the hands: they're there, every so often, out of the corner of his eyes. they move like they want to touch him, pull at him, and it's unsettling. oh sure, he thinks, the guy that crawls along walls and across ceilings is perturbed by the sight of crawling hands, but—.

he perches on top of the swing set. he figures his spider-sense will warn him if anyone or anything that isn't jason approaches, and he can just jump down and run away into the darkness without being identified. he is spider-man, after all—.

(just tired, but he's been tired and exhausted before. that's not exactly unusual.)

when he sees a figure approaching, he squints (it doesn't help.) waits until they get closer — same approximate height and build as jason, peter thinks, but it's not always easy to tell in the dark. there's nothing from his spider-sense. (nothing else at least, nothing beyond the usual background noise.) ]

Psst, up here.

Edited (so apparently i can't type in the morning.) 2019-10-21 18:40 (UTC)

[Everyone keeps warning them about spirits, especially Keeper. And while he almost hates her, he figures there's some kind of truth in what she says. Maybe.]

They can be manipulated by music. [They got those ocarinas, but Ignis didn't use his much.] So yes, they are mysterious and hard to work with. [One can't know when the spirit will just turn around and attack them. Because that's what happened when the horn went off last time.]

That I did not take into consideration. I've seen couple of people arrive though.

[And while they keep coming, it's still not in quantity of the first night when he arrived. Maybe that's for the best.]

Quantum physics?

[Ignis rubs his chin in thought, raking through his brain to see whether he came across the word or no. He's learned about physics, yes. But the word 'quantum' sounds strange and foreign to him. Something that Niflheim could probably dabble in. He's never run into something like that back in the Crown City.]

Unfortunately, no. The word is unfamiliar to me. Do you know what is it about?

[Or is he maybe asking Ignis to explain it. Which is, sadly, impossible. Hmm, he should look into this later as well. It's not like he has anything better to do right now.]

[Just leave house tending to Ignis. And take shoes off at the door.

Spiders... now that Nyx mentions it, he can't remember ever seeing a proper spider. So where are these cobwebs coming from then?]

They haven't been up until now. I actually haven't seen a spider at all.

[Honestly, anything that doesn't have a logical explanation is going to hurt his brain and he won't sleep.]

It is a perfect setting for them, which is weird that they aren't here.

[Home... even though the image of Ardyn is now gone, his cackling voice still haunts him, reminding him that this isn't their home. This place is foreign to them, they are stuck in it because they died and that their true places are somewhere... else. This isn't their final destination, there's more to it. Ignis will see that they get to that, sooner or later.

He obediently walks towards the bridge, smoke curling around the edges of it, dark liquid dripping from the ropes and onto the wood. Ignis is not afraid of it, they have dealt with dangerous demons before. What he's afraid of is Ignis lashing out and destroying the bridge, in an attempt to protect Noct from something that isn't there. How do you squash down that urge again? He can't remember.]

These visions will follow us... [Ignis mutters quietly, stepping on the bridge.] ...do you see something, Noct?

Weird in the air? [Ignis offers a finished sentence. Then sighs.]

No, it is not just you. I should have realized this sooner, [Ignis scowls up at the windows.] Something strange has been going on and I cannot pinpoint what it is.

[And it's almost driving him mad.]

He naps for two years? Huh.

"First we have to find them. The Keeper says she can roughly estimate where they are but she can't pinpoint them until they are close. And if they are close, then it's the end for all." So, as long as Robin says she doesn't feel them in the vicinity, they are good to go. That won't help for a long though and Crowley is right, they do need a plan more than this.

"Flying away..." That sounds nice and freeing. "I mean, we could try but- what if we actually run into them? Besides, World Eaters react to our lanterns, as they are our source of life." But flying around did give her an idea.

"...we should fly around though. Because maybe, if we move around with our lanterns and scatter into small groups, it will confuse the monsters? Apparently, they are slow-moving so it can buy some time." And this would be such a good plan in general- if it weren't for Forest Spirits. She loves them, but they are really hindering their progress when it comes to exploring.

I must have nodded off if someone did tell me about them but World Eaters doesn't sound good.

( so, you know, that was FANTASTIC to hear that they were going to be the ones that had to be fought against. )

With reflexes that are unnaturally fast, she catches the foil ball without even thinking about it. Her scowl still in place as she meets his gaze, clearly not happy with him calling her out that way.

It's not lost to her that 'normal people' can't do shit like that and maybe that's the reason for her next words.

"Never said I can't stand you." Shrugging her shoulders and making a face that supposed to suggest she doesn't care. "I don't even know you." Which is perhaps the whole point. She doesn't know him any better than he knows her.

~~Yeah whose fault is that, Scarlett~~.

She hangs her head, knowing she can't make him understand when all the while, it would seem neither can she. She's so determined to try and stop him from falling into those habits - like looking for people to give him orders or - fuck - take things away from him, that she' keeps missing the point to all this.

She is trying, however, whether it seems that way or not. Scarlett swallows her frustration as she looks at him, learning not to try and force him to meet her gaze, but scanning his features for the answers instead.

"I don't - " Another shake of her head. "I don't understand?" And it does sound rather like a question, like she wants him to help her piece it together especially when the alternative is that he'd fucking asked Crowley to take away a piece of him and that dick had agreed. "What words. Orders?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Translated, they're just nonsense. Words like 'seventeen' and 'furnace'." The Soldier shakes its head a little, frowning. It wishes it could explain, but this isn't something it has clear memories of. Or, technically, any memories of. The Americans never had the little red book, after all, so it's been a few decades and dozens of wipes since anyone actually triggered it. "I don't know why they terrify me. But they do. I couldn't let them stay in my head. Something. Bad. Would have happened."

"Could leave our lanterns behind," he suggests. "Take a torch from the bonfire for light, leave the lanterns locked up in a cabinet or something for safekeeping."

Would also do them well if they didn't return. Crowley almost lost Aziraphale when he nearly doused his own lantern in that water, he isn't about to see what happens if one of them accidentally dropped it.

He glances at the girl's back. "Do you think you could fly? You've got the wings. If you, I don't know, learned?"

She shakes her head, "Can't. I'm not sure why, but we can't go around without them." She also had that thought, of locking up her lantern. "I tried doing that with mine, but the moment I stepped few meters away from it, I almost fainted. I think it's our lifeline, of sorts. Too far away and it will break and we'll die here." So leaving the lantern behind is a no go.

"Huh?"

Xayah glances at her wing and her fingers curl into a fist, and she shakes her head.

"I... think I knew once how to." Before she was forced to hide and pretend her wing is part of her clothing. "Now I don't- I don't know. I can jump really high and float in the air for a moment, but flying the distance- not my forte." She tries to sound casual about it but it's certainly a topic that bothers her. What kind of bird doesn't fly?

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EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

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