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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She opens her mouth to explain what she meant but very quickly closes it again. It's hardly surprising to her that he didn't think about things like physical affection but at the same time, it just wasn't something she could begin to try and provide context for. Instead, she simply drops her gaze, staring beyond the halo of light provided by her lantern. Lifting her hand to scratch her eyebrow as she casually sidesteps any further discussion.

"Good to know." See, way less awkward. (No it's not).

Jo isn't so certain about the wand. The girl seemed helpful, but Jo is inherently paranoid about anyone who uses magic. They aren't good in her world.

"Impressive and a little concerning." She shrugs though. If he isn't worried, that's his right.

"What about you, did you see anyone of interest?"

If Scarlett doesn't like cigarettes, maybe it will have to rethink wanting them. ... or else just make sure not to visit her if it's managed to smoke one somehow, until the smell is gone. (Fuckin' moot point if we don't have any.)

The Soldier shakes its head, and goes back to the subject that doesn't make her awkward. "Misty has music. A lot of it. I'm not sure how well we'll be able to record it, if all she has are headphones, but I'm going to try. Before her device runs out of power for them. I could share them with you, if you want. And the Queen." Because everyone must want music, right? Any time they want, they should be able to listen to something.

This seems like something she may have done as a test of sorts. To see how we would react and if she should reset us or not.

[He says it with a sneer, not pleased that she seemed to view the prospect of killing them all as some sort of game.]

I went into the forest with a small group for about a week and there are definitely things in there that are not making themselves known. A large howling creature was keeping pace with us but we never saw it. And one night there was the sound of a woman singing that came from the river.

[And yes he is very dangerous. More-so now than in life, at least then he had something of humanity. A trait stripped away by the very sorcerer who conspired in his death and created him as he is now.

He regards Bruce for a moment, watching him closely. He held his composure well, a respectable skill in itself. Emotions gave away intent and appearing without them gave an advantage. He'd probably make a good assassin, or even Lin Kuei.]

I control the shadows. The darkness is my greatest ally. But it is not something that can be taught. My powers were gained after a previous death and through dark magic. Before that my abilities were much different.

Privately might be a little better. Might mean a little more.

( it did in his experience, at least. )

They might not forgive you but at least you're taking the first step and trying.

You've gotten to know her?

[He doesn't know what to think of that, if it's foolish or wise. He can see the argument for both. As he didn't even bother to learn the woman's name, it was probably better that Misty took the time to get to know her. They'd at least understand for certain what she was and who she was.]

So that means it might be the nature of this world. It could be punishment for all we've done.

It's just a thought.

[He has no proof and all he can really do is sit and think about this for hours on end, anything to stop focusing on the maddening images that seemed to dance in front of him. Maybe it was easier to assume that this place was out to get them or someone who ran this was tormenting them.

It made sense of the chaos, otherwise...they'd have nothing.]

You know if you close your eyes for a few minutes. When you open, it's gone. The hands never touch you and they never seem to touch anyone else. They always look like they will.

[Jo watches him for a second. It has felt like time moves slower here. It might just be the oppressive darkness.]

I'm having trouble sleeping too.

Well, my advice is to not sleep.

( and it was shit advice. )

But considering things are happening while I'm awake too, that's probably not very good advice.

[ His expression is a complicated one, starting to answer and then deciding to get back to what happened to Sora later. It's not just because Riku feels like he needs time to collect his thoughts. He knows how difficult it can be to talk about the things that are closest to one's heart, the private things one might prefer to keep to himself.

It could be easy to push and make Quentin draw back, or to seem indifferent and discourage him in a totally different way. That he would want to bring Riku into his confidence could be considered an honor if they weren't both treating their clasped hands as a kind of life preserver in a storm.

I see. He was of the same age as you when you first embraced the Darkness. What insights into the heart could have been found had I but a foothold on his world, I wonder.

Riku disregards Ansem's phantom, something sharpening in his attention at mention of a knife, of wanting it to stop. ]

Your father cared about you very much.

[ Mirthless laughter sounds from somewhere behind him, he ignores that, too.

Magic - like it's something unique, was he from a world where magic wasn't known, the way it was on some worlds, like San Fransokyo, where technology and science could do things that were functionally the same to those from worlds that lacked those advancements? And nightmares, being trapped in one's own head... Quentin has loved and he's lost, he's felt betrayal and he's betrayed someone dear to him in turn.

He's been haunted by his own mistakes and regrets and inner demons. It's no wonder he's so wrung out by everything that's been happening. Quentin is exactly the kind of person who deserves a break and he's here, instead. ]

I wondered that myself.

[ His other palm covers over the part of Quentin's hand that isn't already wrapped by the other, eyes downcast. ]

When Kairi died, Sora took off. We set out in search of him, a few of us, but there was a terrible storm and we couldn't find him. Then there was all that business with the Lighthouse.

I spoke with Sora one last time. He was going to go away with the spirits, to try to find a way to bring Kairi back. A quest, you know? Like the hero he is.

[ He inhales and lets it out, slow. ]

But we were alone. Sometimes I wonder if I didn't... make that part up.

[ What other evidence, what other eye-witness account does he have to make sure that Sora had come back, that they had that conversation, that promise? No one saw them outside the Invincible by cover of perpetual night. He clings to it, because even if it's something his heart invented to hold all the broken pieces together, it's better than giving in to despair.

Hesitating, not because he doesn't want to, but because Riku so rarely initiates gestures like these for all that he needs these reassurances - he extracts one hand to put an arm around Quentin. ]

What you've been through, everything you told me, I'm not sure I know anyone who wouldn't break. But hearts are stronger and more adaptable than we know. We can get through this.

...Why don't we go back to town. Just to make sure we're not making up this whole talk.

[He hasn't seemed to notice that she's moved at all, at least not yet. He shakes his head more, and it's harder and harder to avoid her eyes, but he can feel them. But he can feel Geneva, too, hear her, whispering, demanding, pleading.

He wants to swing the axe into his own head.]

No, it's not, because you can't...I know you can't see her, but she needs me. And you, and t-this. If there were other ways...but...but I don't know, I don't know...

Yes, you're right.

But perhaps... when this is done. Won't want them to think I'm imagined. Or... worse, that I'm real but my face is falling right off.

Which, is it alright right now?

[Remi startles. He turns toward Jo with a look on his face like she just showered him in curses. He gulps, pale, and shifts his axe behind him, knowing how threatening it looks to be carrying around.]

It's...

[He seems to lose what he was saying. Seems like he's listening to something, and then looks off in an odd direction, worrying his lip.]

No, nothing, I'm sorry. I'm fine. I just, I'm a little sick, I think.

[She tries to follow, of course. Still shuddering in terror, she races forward, but he's too quick for her. She's only the vague impression of movement in the air, and she stands beneath the place where he'd stood, glaring up at the sky.

This isn't the last they've seen of each other. She's determined.]

What does she need? Blood? I'm working on an artificial copy. Or flesh? Cutting into those spirits would do the trick.

[Another inch to the left, and then she lets her hand drift slowly over her desk. She intends to grab the wood, but her hand lands on a beaker first-- and that works just fine. In one swift moment she grabs it, throwing it as quickly as she can, aiming for his head-- if she can disorient him, she can grab that axe, and hopefully knock the wind out of him and tie him up until he's less dangerous, but all that depends on if he's actually disoriented--

Because if not, she's going to get hurt pretty badly. But that's the risk one takes, and it's far better than resigning herself to her fate.]

[ he'd found the books, wandered desperately to find q. it was unnerving. terrifying. everywhere he look, mike was still there. following. everywhere. touching, grabbing, baiting. laughing. mocking.

they were supposed to stick together. sure, they always do their own thing. it's normal. but when shit got weird so quickly, it was completely mind-boggling how simple it was to forget all of it in an instant because everything was wrong, and even quentin wasn't sounding quite like quentin because mike was always there. touching and grabbing. laughing in eliot's ear.

and then quentin had gone. he can't even remember when except that it had happened. eliot had waited. hoped maybe it was some kind of bad dream and if he woke up q would be there again, except that didn't happen, and mike was still there. mike was always there. when he finally worked up the nerve, ignored mike just enough that it felt like he was actually doing something quentin would want, that quentin really would want to see him and that eliot wasn't going to fuck everything up again somehow, that things were actually going to be okay and not a clusterfuck like it always was, days had unknowingly passed, and quentin was nowhere.

it hurt and ached, and eliot's insides burned with every movement. 'you did this,' mike would keep saying. laughing. 'you always do this. it's no wonder no one likes you. i couldn't even love you with a little help. remember?' and maybe he's right? he can't find quentin. quentin doesn't want to be found. he's well an truly alone. again.

and then he finds the books, and they're exactly what he needs because there's nothing left of q. only the books, which aren't even really--

it doesn't matter. they're enough. he returns to the cabin. he casts. the flame at his fingers casts no light, but he can see it, the way it seeks, points. that's how he finds quentin, worn, tired, and afraid. mike tells him that quentin will run. eliot isn't so sure. ]

[He bites at the inside of his mouth, takes another careful breath. She just hides the firearm like he hadn't already seen it, like she doesn't have any idea what he's talking about. Does that make her stupid, scared, confused, or all three? And once he sorts that out, what will it take to make her drop the gun?]

Look, I love a coy chick as much as the next guy, but there's a limit to these things, y'know? Be bashful about your bra size not your blaster. I'm talking about the piece you're hiding!

["I didn't grab you. The first time."

The hair on the back of Masaomi's neck stands on end, and he barely holds back a full-body shiver. He hates how on edge he feels right now. So lame. The only hands he wants grabbing him are the beautiful, slender hands of a cute girl!]

You mean besides the fact that I'm trapped in a horror cliche with a bunch of dead strangers I don't know?

[The toothy smile that follows is so blatantly strained that it's clear Masaomi isn't actually trying to hide his animosity.]

Ever heard of a dullahan?

Edited 2019-10-28 06:01 (UTC)

She...

[There's a spark of hope in his eyes. He looks straight at her, finally, just in time to get a face full of glass that he didn't see coming. His glasses keep him from getting shards in his eyes, at least, but he still stumbles back, surprise helping him lose his footing just as much as the glass itself.

And then he's down. It feels like hands are dragging him there, and he lets out a cry of anguish as he falls.]

[ if daylight has been worried about coraline than it becomes more apparent than ever when he notices her reaction to him reaching out to her. did he do something wrong? did he say something wrong to her? did he somehow screw up like alwa-

he winces, feeling a sudden horrible pang of guilt and fear, and daylight feels(?) his arm jerk back to keep his distance away for coraline's sake. something hisses in his audial, pointing out how he's always doing this to someone. he tries to tell himself to shake out of this mindset, trying his best to focus on the conversation and answer the question.

even then that's a pain to his processors. ] I've been... I've been-

[ he frowns and looks away, his optics flickering in thought. ]

I've had better weeks. [ he looks back at coraline, his expression softening at the sight of his friend. ] I think we've all had because there's just so much going on, you know? Are- Can I do something to help you out?

Daylight, despite still looking shaken up with, manages a smile in return for Soldat. The attempt to reassure him meant a lot to Day and he tries his best to show his thankfulness for it. "I- I... Yeah. That's a good thing to keep in mind.

"It just felt so real." He reaches out to go and rub his neck, a gesture he found comforting in times like these, he but stops himself. Unwilling to trust himself around his poor neck cables, Daylight pulls his servo away and tries to focus his attention on the conversation. "I'll definitely try to ask others around me. Thanks for stepping in to help me. It could have gotten a lot worse if you hadn't intervened."

[ excuse! kol's hands are beautiful and slender!

the owner of the questioned hands looks at masaomi with a curious look. it could almost be considered one that would answer his question in the negative. his long life means that he's heard many things, both ridiculous and believable. ]

The headless rider who carries his own head in his middle arm? The Irish fairytale?

[ kol purses his lips, then shakes his head. ] Never heard of it.

[ he has. during his fairytale phase, he did try to recreate the headless rider without being necessarily influenced by the dullahan. he just thought the bloke should hold his head. ]

Instead you're seeing people melt.

[ is that the worst thing ambrose has seen? people melting? or has he been cursed to see something far uglier? curiouser and curiouser he becomes, even though his easy going nature had easily made kol peg him as someone who didn't have a very interesting past outside of dead witches and magic. that is interesting... but this? is far more.

genuinely curious, ] What did you see the last time?

[ it's as if he doesn't hear her. with a look of concentration, he stays very still, as if he can somehow camouflage into their surroundings outside the library.

kol reaches out to touch hope's arm, prepared to pull her back if need be. he can hear mikael—sometimes he hadn't kept his voice quiet, openly declaring that he was here and was after them. it had all been a game of cat and mouse—or a lion, really. mikael always had the greatest roar. ]

Sticking around to see how this plays out will only lead to our deaths. Trust me on this one. [ despite how confident he sounds, he doesn't feel it. he had always been the one who tried to stand tall and brave whenever father was around. deep down, he was always petrified—of that dagger his brother held and of that stake his father undoubtedly brandished.

it's then he looks at her and tugs on her arm. ] Come on—and hurry.

[ he begins to move away from the library rather than step over its threshold. ]

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EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

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the end.

sorry for how late this is;

sorry for how late this is;

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[vibrates in excitement]

I love their CR so much. They're so cute together, oh my gooosh.

it's all good!!

look! i mean it! see??

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