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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[ he presses kisses against quentin's head, not keeping count. the words are what he needs and the kisses are his gratitude. ]

I'll stay. I'll always stay. Whenever you need me, Q. I.

You won't go, will you? You'll stay too? I- I don't. I don't know if I could find you again. I don't want to lose you. I can't. I can't lose you.

[ why did you go? he thinks but doesn't speak. ]

[There are no words for how he feels - lost, alone, hurting, heart broken open and bleeding in his chest. Because no matter what, it feels like he is ripping out a piece of himself. Fear like poison in his blood, keeping him up and keeping him helpless, pushing him even further down than he was before he started seeing, hearing, feeling things.]

I'll stay, I'll stay-- I'll always stay. Where ever you are, is home. Always, with you.

[And that probably doesn't make much sense, but it's one thing he's clinging to, the one thought above all else that makes this even a little bit bearable - that Eliot loves him. That he loves Eliot and that fifty years would never be enough. One lifetime, isn't enough.]

You won't lose me, you'll never lose me. [Quentin laughs a watery kind of laugh, wiping his face against Eliot's shirt, hands clenched white-knuckled in it like he'd drift away if he ever let go.]

I kept thinking I failed? I keep seeing-- I keep feeling--

You shouldn't upset witches. They make bad enemies.

( it's said lightly though, not really all that serious. )

You have any ideas what could be causing something this potent? Poison in the air?

"I don't see very well," Stone admits. "Blind in one eye, or close enough to it, and I'm not made for seeing things close up. That's why I'm all the way up here, hoping I could actually see shit on the ground. That's not gonna work if it's all hallucinations. What kinds of things are you seeing?"

Oh yes, very useful. But won't you... be harmed? Even those who had not eaten before feel hunger here.

It's very... jarring.

[ he sighs shakily, relief. ] You're my home too. [ 'just wait until you kill him,' mike mocks, and eliot grimaces.

drawing back a bit, his hands find the sides of quentin's face. careful, so careful, as he lifts him up from hiding, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. ]

You're not failing. You're here, and you're surviving. Stay with me. We'll figure things out. Okay?

Just. Please don't go again. Please. Don't go where I can't follow.

I am, though. I am, Eliot, and I don't-- I. She keeps telling me to. That this isn't real and-- and it makes sense? Because who gets to have magic for real? Who gets to live for fifty years in the magical kingdom I read about the first time I--

[And Quentin leans in to the soft kisses falling on his face, the warmth of Eliot's mouth and hands on his skin with a little whimpering sound.]

Who gets that? Who gets to be the hero and-- and maybe she's right? Maybe I just dreamed you up. This-- this perfect person who's just perfect for me.

[ oh, how it hurts to hear quentin say these things, like he was never meant to be, and eliot remembers those feelings of his own, how impossibly real some things could be. knowing mike, loving him, killing him. and quentin who was always there who loved him no less. quentin who died to protect everyone. quentin who he still found in this place.

he sniffs, eyes glassy. ] Q. [ it's said with a fearful desperation, that quentin can be standing in front of him and still just slip away. ]

We never choose who we get to be. That's how. And. How could I even be perfect? I'm the furthest thing. If I'm some perfect dream, then I never would have hurt you, never would have pushed you away. I never would have-- You never would have needed to fear the Monster. You wouldn't hate cinnamon. You wouldn't still love what Fillory stood for even as much as you hate the reality now. What dream would have such imperfect things?

It wouldn't exist, Q. Dreams could never be so horribly painful. Even when they become nightmares, we wake.

I don't? I don't always wake up, because I-- because I break sometimes and I don't. I can't always trust myself and I make shitty choices all the time. I-- Julia? Everything that happened to her and it's my fault. I know you didn't like her. But, she-- what she did? It was nothing compared to what I did to her and maybe she's right, maybe something like Reynard happened and it's was my fault and-- and that's why I'm here?

[That doesn't mean he's letting of Eliot, though. He's clinging on to him so tightly, his fingers are starting to hurt and Eliot's shirt is hopelessly creased now and Quentin still doesn't let go.]

You're perfect for me. You're everything-- you're everything I ever dreamed of in a partner. You're-- jesus, you're smart. So smart and so much smarter than me and you're popular and you're witty and you're-- and you're so alive. And pretty. But that's not even-- you get me, Eliot. You get me like no one else, and that-- that's huge. That's something I never--

[Cut off and disjointed, half sentences that he chokes off or swallows down on purpose, or forgets the ending to because he gets distracted by Alice, by Julia, by the Monster.]

Um. [ there are a lot of words to process there, so he. needs some time to process it. ] I mean. I do like her. And I do know you. And. And I know it could never be as bad as you're thinking of it. Or making it. Because that's. That's just your brain breaking? Not you being you. Just your brain hurting you. Because it can. Because it wants to.

But dreams aren't--

Shitty choices aren't as much of a thing? In dreams. That's why they're dreams. So. If. If things aren't shitty, then you're not dreaming.

And if you're not terrified all the time, it's not a nightmare.

Also I'm. Really not perfect? Even slightly? Ssso. So.

[ the words die because he isn't even sure what else he could say to convince him. it's then that he remembers though, how bad they are with words. how words always only seem to complicate. how sometimes they need to just shut up and--

he leans in and kisses quentin before he can speak again. ]

[There were a lot of words coming out of Eliot, and just as many trying to push themselves out of Quentin's mouth before he's kissed and that quiets all of that. And with a small noise low in his throat, Quentin gets a hand up to cup Eliot's face, brush his fingers over his ear and kiss him back desperately.

The monster never did this, and Julia is still calling his name and it isn't that important, not with Eliot kissing him in the dark and Alice is right, Quentin is always going to want this. After that first time, and she was right, just as she is now, that Quentin didn't want her this much, didn't ache for her this much.]

[It can follow them inside, yes, but it feels somehow safer. They won't be lashing out on other people and Ignis won't be tempted to destroy the bridge just to take imaginary Ardyn down.

He sighs a breath of relief and his lips twitch at the question. Okay, Noct's mind is still there. It's all Ignis can ask for in this mess.]

I think you already took care of it, [Ignis nods, keeping his eyes trained on Noct's face then pressing a short kiss to his forehead.]

Let's go to the living room. [And they should keep talking, to muffle out any weird sounds in the otherwise silent house.]

The smell isn't something Jo had thought about yet. She isn't certain it would help her, but it's a good point.

"But you're not seeing anything?"

Is it all fake?

There isn't. [Jo knows that much. Hellhounds hunt their target(s) until the end unless the hellhound is killed somehow.

She doesn't have propane and nails here. They can't see the damn things.]

We could stop them with salt, or goofer dust. For a bit. [She thinks for a moment longer before shaking her head.]

Can you hear anything?

"Hard to say this early." Which is a no, but only because he spent a good portion of that day nearly drowning, and then recovering from said incident.

"Why's the wand concerning, though? I don't know much about magic."

That's what I'm here for. [To have Ignis' back. To keep him safe. To protect him. Always. The words of their promise formed a constant echo within his mind, working to keep him sane, to give him an anchor to hold onto.

Keeping their hands connected, he twisted towards the living room, knowing the way even without the dim lantern light.] Don't go off on your own again, okay? At least not until this is over.

[ he sighs, sinks into the way quentin reaches for him, holds him back, wants him. the shiver runs along his veins, and eliot whimpers in relief. quentin's breath is hot, his lips warm and wet. he's real. none of this is a hallucination. he can here mike calling and mocking, tugging and touching at his back, but none of it feels as real as the weight of quentin leaned against him, lips pressing and seeking. he could never imagine that right, not that particular awkward brand of quentin's kisses, even in his dreams.

his fingers press into quentin's hair, right hand sliding down to steady quentin by the small of his back. it's hard not to lie to himself about how quentin definitely doesn't smell or taste great given he's apparently just been. out. and probably hasn't showered. or brushed his teeth. in days. but eliot can't bring himself to really care. he can't really care. this is the realest thing he's felt in a long while, and if he doesn't make sure it stays that way, he might very well disappear. ]

It is tolerable — so long as you're not alone.

( It's as much of a confession as Javert is willing to make. He's not comfortable talking about his feelings, being vulnerable, opening himself up. With everything that's been going on, he feels even less inclined to do so. But there's an uneasiness in him, and Javert simply cannot leave it alone. After a moment of quiet, he asks, )

Tell me, have the visions ever made you feel as if you are dying again?

( He wants to know that he isn't alone in this madness. )

Shit.

[ that — seems as good a reaction as any and grizz honestly isn't sure what else to say. except he does, doesn't he? ]

I'm sorry.

I was trying not to think of that.

( because yes, that's true. )

I could always have someone hook me to food and water via an IV but that sounds like a lot of work. And kind of gross.

It's going to start getting weird if she keeps bringing him up but the fact is? He's the only smart person she knows so he's her go-to when it comes to anything, especially relating to devices.

"You should talk to the Doc." Oh, she's aware how much Will would love that. "He'd probably be able to hook whatever it is right up to a tablet and rip the music for you. Then everyone could have it?"

And then it's not anyone doing something nice for her, it's just her getting the same as everyone else. Scarlett logic, even when it's not on a conscious level.

It's okay. It's — it's fine.

( it wasn't but there wasn't anything to be done, was there? )

It's not real. I have to keep telling myself that it's not real.

[ she doesn't. she might have right after it had happened or even a few days after. right now she's just weary and anxious about what they're seeing and hearing. ]

Forget it. I'm sure you've had enough people biting your head off about it. [ and she's got the feeling it wasn't all his idea, if the name he'd given her is any indication. ]

[The Monster is still there, same as Julia and Alice, like they're drawing in closer all three of them. Maybe because Quentin is trying to very hard not to pay attention.

There's that familiar lingering touch to the top of his head, a hand trailing down his chest- impossible, impossible, because Eliot is there, drawn up tightly and pressed so firmly against all of Quentin that there's no room for anything else. Eliot's face against his hand and Eliot's chest pushing in to his with every breath either of them takes.

But they're still there.

Julia, crying now and she's begging. So prettily. For Quentin to just come back, please, Q. Come back. She never touches him, though.

And Quentin kisses Eliot back, desperate and crying a little, tears leaking out from under his tightly shut eyes and

Alice. She sounds so cold, like an ice-burn on winter cheeks. Something that will sting, once it sets in properly and she's talking, soft and superior, about all of his many, countless failures and how this is just going to be another one, Q, god. Didn't you learn anything?]

Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me--

[Quentin is almost chanting it, between kisses and in to the next one. Making a choice, because even if this is all just in his head, even if Eliot and everything that they are, is just something he made up in his head- even if all of this is just one big lie and the real world is just outside, without magic, without pain, without Eliot, Quentin is going to choose this. Right here.]

Not as many as you'd think. I only had three people really get upset with me. And one of them claimed I made her feel bad for being angry.

[Which is baffling. But right now, something of a relief. Dealing with angry handlers while in the middle of the hallucinations sounds exhausting. So it's gonna take her letting it off the hook with grace, this time.]

But thank you.

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EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

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