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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[ the questions annoy him at first, but kol knows that they're not asked to be condescending. jason isn't nik, elijah, or rebekah. he always means well, and it's with that fact he opts to go for the more mature response of handling his emotions. he closes his eyes for a long moment in an effort to (successfully and temporarily) push down the intense frustration he feels at not chasing after davina. ]

It was.

[ out of nowhere. if he really thinks about it… ] I think something touched me… but I just heard her screaming—

[ if he really thinks about it, he heard nothing to go along with the screaming. usually he can hear footsteps, but all he'd heard was her voice, cracking twigs, what was supposed to be her footsteps… and nothing else. deep down in his gut, he knows the spirits here would never do anything to hurt anyone unless provoked. he doubts they'd do anything to anger him after he's been so good to them.

rubbing his forehead a little roughly, ] You didn't hear it, did you?

( ambrose frowns because what else is there to do? )

And once they're done with us, they're going to what? Go after the living world?

( now, ambrose doesn't want to overstep boundaries here (or maybe he does) and say something that's going to somehow cause offense but that sounds...a little too familiar. )

Are you seeing things?

( in the end he just goes for bluntness. if he's not, then he'll say no. if he is, then they'll have something in common. )

Or feeling things that shouldn't be there but you swear that they are? Because, if you are, I am going to be relieved if only because it means I haven't had a bad batch of booze.

There's a flicker of surprise in her eyes at his words, Scarlett quick to do the math. That 'The Sergeant had made good on his promise not too share what had happened. She couldn't say if she was relieved or pissed off by that fact, but it would be something to consider later.

"Maybe you could just trust me to know my limits?" Trying to frame it in a way that he might be able to accept without needing to tell him the truth. She wasn't all that comfortable with the idea of sharing more of herself than she had to in light of what happened recently and it might help tell her if the other half of his mind had decided to throw her under a bus or not later.

"You don't know what it is and it might not even happen again. Let's just worry about when and if you have to. I'm just asking that you try my way before you go giving up parts of yourself."

It's reasonable of her, and the Soldier can respect that, but at the same time.... "You don't know what all I can do," the Soldier says after a long moment of wrestling with wanting to accept her word and not wanting to hurt her. "You would be making a decision without all the data. But if I ever hear one of those Words again. I will at least tell you."

It’s only an inference, based on every interaction we’ve had so far. You don’t need much.

[a lie based on omission. Jason knows that much— it is technically true and could stand up to some scrutiny. And it’s necessary, a precaution over anything else that Bruce might say. He needs an out. Needs a way to explain things away.

He’s not entirely surprised that Bruce approaches. But he doesn’t move. He knows better than to back down. He may be lying through his teeth, but he can still meet Bruce’s eyes, because he knows better than to completely give away the game that he has something to hide. He’s looked far worse in the eye while telling them far worse lies.

If anything, he relaxes his posture, leaning into the tells he knows from his working class background of Gotham’s have nots. Still ready, but not threatened. Because he isn’t.]

You’ve been very clear that this is a puzzle to you. That you’re interested in knowing whatever story I’ve got.

That you want to take responsibility for it.

[not a lie, and the words roll with confidence. He’s not running this time. The accusation has shifted the necessary tactics— he can’t just avoid and hope Bruce doesn’t notice him. Because that ship has sailed. And he realizes belatedly there was never a chance that would work well.]

So, yeah, Mr. Wayne, I know.

"Nothing I could see. That's why I climbed up here. I see better from a distance, but I still don't see anything. Or smell anything," he adds with a grumpy expression.

Humans can't smell shit.

[This is one thing he has worked out, so far, here. Human senses are terrible. (Though they can see better than he can, which admittedly isn't saying much.)]

Good enough that if I ask you if you smell something strange, you'll be able to tell me yes or no?

[ she nods, the hand curved around her middle uncurling to rest on top of his again, and closes her eyes underneath the blindfold. his heart beats against her back, steadying her even through the ever present fear, in spite of the voices whispering at the back of her mind, threatening her relative peace.

he hasn't held her like this since before she'd left, and has never held her like this in this context, when she's hurt and frightened. back then he'd held her this close because he hadn't been able to keep his hands off of her, even while they slept. she doesn't know what it means that he's willing to do it now, and she's too distraught to really consider or hope for it.

before too long, her vision being blocked and her body being at ease lulls her into a fitful sleep, teetering on the edge of dreaming, even though her mind and body long for the peace of dreamlessness. ]

[Brave is a word for it. Others might call it stupid; Selina certainly would. But then she's always been quick to remind him of his recklessness- the moments that he allows his desire to learn and know to eclipse any self-preservation instincts.

But the figure pauses long enough to entertain his question, and then reply. It makes Bruce hesitate in turn. That would be impossible, he says. And instead of arguing this point at all, he accepts the fact for what it is. It would be impossible. The reply seems to chide him in a way, offer a reminder that Bruce had been too quick to accept what he sees as reality instead of digging a little deeper.

It's polite curiosity that beckons him forward another step. He never comes close enough to infringe on the other's space or to block his exit. The question lingers in the back of his mind: can he be sure that this is real? Can he be sure that this isn't simply a new and strange hallucination?]

Then, you were just passing through?

[It isn't unlike Scarecrow's toxin. He can see the reaction in her eyes, the way she barely seems to register her fall and instead can focus only on the shape he makes. Her pupils are blown, the muscle in her neck is tight, her fingers look almost locked into shape, frozen by fear. Bruce is not hard-hearted but more than that, he remembers intimately what it was like- for his reality to distort itself seamlessly. To be unable to find a beginning an end, to grapple through the dark for some invisible veil between fiction and reality.

Bruce doesn't want to risk speaking. She's an incredibly clever woman and his greatest asset is the omission of detail. But he doesn't want to abandon her here either.

He pauses, visibly. And instead of answering aloud Bruce reaches one gloved hand out to her. An offer to help her to her feet.]

And-- you lost Sora, too?

[Mentioned in past tense and with regret, Riku voices dropping lower and Quentin knows that. The soul destroying feeling of losing someone. The terrible what-if's that he can't shake, that still haunt him at night, even if he knows that Alice came back. That he turned the world upside down and inside out and completed quests for her, to get her back even if it meant she'd never forgive him for it. Because his selfish need to see her whole again was bigger than her wish to stay a Niffin.

He swallows thickly, talking quietly and leaning in to Riku for warmth and to feel something real that isn't the gentle fingers on the back of his neck or the disembodied hand he can see pushing at Riku, moving his head around to look at Quentin and the lanterns are reflected like fire and flames in his eyes.]

I was sixteen the first time it happened. I-- the world just lost color, you know? Like, everything was bland and colorless. I, uh, I stopped eating. Started sleeping a lot. And--and one night I was in the bathroom. I was brushing my teeth, and there was a knife. I just wanted it to stop? I wanted to feel something again. My dad found me and I was in the Midtown Mental Health Clinic for a month? They gave me meds, to make the world feel less fake? They worked a little.

[he clears his throat, keeping his eyes on the treeline. He can't see her, but Julia sounds like she talking from just beyond. Just past the river. He squeezes Riku hand.]

I've been in and out for years. Until-- until I found magic? I thought that knowing that my fucking fantasy dream was real would help? To know that I was special? But then. Uh, my best friend Julia? She wasn't allowed to go to magic school. But she learned magic anyway. She, uh, she used it to trap me in my own head. In a nightmare. She made me think that magic-- that everything, was just my brain breaking again. She's-- she's always been my only friend. Growing up? And I didn't help her with magic, even when I could. I just-- I laughed at her. I called her a sore loser. Told her that she just wasn't good enough, wasn't good like I was and she--

[Her voice so sweet in his ear, telling him not to worry about anything. That she's always be there for him, no matter what and Quentin closes his eyes to breathe deeply a few times.]

I lost my girlfriend? She died protecting everyone and I brought her back. She didn't like that very much, so. And--and there was a key? One of seven, to get magic back? It-- it showed me a version of myself. But. It didn't stop talking. About all the wrong things I've done. The mistakes I've made. Ever selfish thought, every-- shit. And then here, I've seen them here. I hear them. Feel them. For a week? Maybe more, but I didn't notice right away because--because it just seemed normal? I thought-- I thought I was just breaking again? Or--or maybe Julia's right. Maybe this place is just all in my head?

[ is it not meant to be there? is it really? the mikaelson paranoia™ really wants him to believe that it is there. it's why he'd fallen prey to it, even though he often knows what's real and what isn't.

but ambrose isn't lying—he can tell by the simple way his heart beats without those telltale signs—and doesn't quite sound like what would be the butt of a joke. ]

I've been feeling like I've been bloody burning alive. Unless fire can suddenly work here… [ it's apparent kol's annoyed at himself. he presses his fingers to his temple and shakes his head. ]

What on earth are you imagining?

[ if it's how he died, then detective kol's onto something. if it's not… well… he's still onto something. ]

To start, I've seen the faces of my remaining family slowly melting as they walk towards me and scream things that I can't quite make out.

( or maybe he's trying not to hear it because he doesn't want to know what horrible things are coming from them. )

I've felt like I'm melting away at different points and I've looked down and seen my skin coming off my bones. Not a pretty sight. I prefer my skin where it is.

I suppose so.

And I'd really rather they not, if you catch my drift.

[ Only good manners kept Elizabeth from spluttering at that audacity. As it is, her voice notches up at least half an octave. ]

Excuse me? The bonfire isn't yours, I have just as much right to sit here. Without having things thrown at me!

Yes, well...

( he trails off and blows out a breath. )

I'd rather that not happen either. Any ideas on how to beat them?

"Eh, you can go with Aziraphale or me next time, we'll miracle it into a decent flavor," he says. "The ones they have there are rubbish. It's like someone read a wikipedia article on ice cream and picked a random list of flavors to choose. Blue cheese ice cream? Who would even think to do that, really?"

He takes another drink.

"Music?"

I've been trying to ask the spirits, but the only one who speaks fluent English doesn't want any part in telling me. He told me that I could ask Rastus or the Keeper, but I think they're quite angry with me at the moment-- if-- actually, if you might like to ask them for tips...

Well, that is neatly distracting from horrible ice cream flavors. In a potentially nice way. The Soldier's gaze actually sharpens right on Crowley's sunglasses, precision focus. "What? About music?"

"You heard any music since you left----" He gestures a bit with his glass. "You know, all that. Do you remember music?"

[Jason steps closer to the tree, peering up at it even though Ignis had already indicated they were gone. He tilts his head and then, without saying anything, jumps up towards the lowest branch. It's just out of reach, but Jason presses his foot into the tree and does a kind of part-run, part-air blast to get himself into the branches. He wants to make sure there's nothing lurking where he can't see and apparently the easiest way to do that is to climb the tree.

Teenagers, right?

He looks back down at Ignis. Jason opens his mouth, but then catches sight of something in the trees out of the corner of his eye. He frowns, shifting his weight in the branch, as his attention is drawn to the mysterious movement.]

Hey...wait a second.

Sounds rough.

[ there's a genuine hint of sympathy in his words. he's not being an asshole here-- and it doesn't seem like he needs any push to talk. Which is probably a healthier mindset about it. He's ignoring his own hallucinations-- now that he knows they're there, he's had so much practice separating them out from everything else. it's the least he can do to listen to other people try to manage that same filtering. ]

The possession part, not the vegetarian friend part. [ he didn't really want to go into trying to explain Ivy to anyone. ]

That's probably good. Not for me, I like burgers and fries too much to commit, but you know. In general.

[ A beat, and he keeps himself very still. just in case he needed to knock anyone out-- but also to not be immediately threatening. ]

She tend to help in situations like this?

There it is, that inexplicable longing associated with music. Not even coffee or cigarettes had that kind of unsubstantiated pull. The Soldier actually looks a little distressed-- not afraid, obviously, but unhappy, entirely because it doesn't remember music. How did Crowley even know? (Demonic temptation? Fuck. Maybe. That would tempt us a lot.)

"No," the Soldier finally says. "I don't. I want to. I feel like I should. Misty has some, on a discman. But the headphones were too wet to listen."

Crowey fishes in his pocket, pulling out his mobile. He flips through a few songs before ending up with Don't Stop Me Now, by Queen, of course. He doesn't have wifi in this place, but his mobile has all of his favorite songs already downloaded. The song fills the room.

"Bit of a limited selection, I'm afraid. All of my music turns to Queen after a fortnight. But I've got all of the hits on here."

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EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

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CW - smentions of suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, mentions of depression

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you're using those icons to torture me I KNOW YOU ARE!!!

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