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 shrugs, from what little he knows of him he looked military and what he knows of special forces is that they prefer guns over more traditional combat. And he hasn't seen too many guns here. Or a place to get more ammo. "Looks can be deceiving."

But he does look like he can take care of himself which is reassuring. "I have some experience in that, yes," says the Grandmaster of an entire assassin clan.

At least they're on even ground as they make their patrol.

He is pretty fond of his guns, even has three of them, but he's always been good at both. He's pretty sure he has, anyway. And yeah, conserving ammunition is absolutely gonna be a thing. "Good. Guess we'll watch each other's back, yeah?"

He slips the knife away again, and picks up on the Soldier's usual patrol again. "I do this every day, anyway. Ain't like it's a problem doing it with company."

Oh, man, maybe I should've just asked you to pinch me.

[ it'd be a reasonable response if he'd thought that it'd been a dream as well, as it stands, it's just commentary. something to say almost for the sake of saying it. he's not really sure if he buys it as an answer: jason would have to only see the hands when he was asleep for it to be a bad dream, and they're — well, they're very much awake. peter doesn't really see the hands when he's asleep, either, not that he gets a whole lot of sleep — it's more naps here and there, interrupted by much longer periods of wakefulness. the bad dreams he does have are very much the bad dreams he'd had at home, in new york: dreams of gwen, of mj, of norman. dreams of getting fired, again (that one's kind of par the course, if he's honest), and of disappointing aunt may, again.

but he's peter parker, and he knows deflection when he sees it. he gets not wanting to talk about issues and worries and — anything, really, and he's frankly glad to move the discussion on. it'd been hard enough to acknowledge the fact that he'd been seeing things in the first place; it'd taken him a couple of days to even think about broaching the subject with anyone else rather than try and ignore it.

friends isn't really how he'd describe him and jason, but there's an element of equality to them, just by virtue of who they are and what they do; there's a freedom, too, in the fact that jason knows who he is, and the separation between man and spider is less necessary. he'd never really thought too much about how having someone that knows is relaxing in its own way. ]

And sure, but how many other wallcrawlers have we got here, huh? [ beat. ] It's a surprisingly limited pool, and I'm feeling very violated right now.

"I am starting to realize that many of us make the same patrols without each other's knowledge. We are likely covering the same ground repeatedly." He went on daily patrols as well, as had Hanzo, and he's fairly certain that he's seen others doing the same thing. It might be in their best interest to coordinate those. Maybe a discussion for when there aren't shadowy hands threatening to drag them all into the forest.

Hands that he is repeatedly reminding himself aren't real.

There's silence for a while as he tries to figure out how to ask the next question in a way that isn't... well.. strange, "You sound different than when we last talked."

More talkative for one, but also.. different.

"Yeah, I've noticed that, too. Better that than not enough of us, though. Inspector Javert and I coordinate, and I kinda keep an eye on what the bird-girl Xayah does so we're not overlapping too much. Guess I'll start watching for you, too." This place. So disorganized. Mostly because people just don't talk to each other.

(We'd probably still wind up doing it even if it does overlap with people. What the fuck else we gonna do with our time.) That, the Soldier has no answer for.

The silence isn't bad, but it's definitely better than the question. The Sergeant actually winces. "Yeah. Uh. I do, don't I. It's kinda complicated..." Are you gonna make him try to explain, Kuai? That's gonna be a weird conversation.

Yeah. She'd probably be working on getting the Spirits to rise against us and join her in her quest to wipe humanity off the face of the Earth. At her full strength she could easily have leveled entire cities. If she was coming back...if she was here at all...things would be getting a lot worse.

[Which he's taking as reassurance. That or she's just weak. She was weak the first time they'd started dealing with her -- only able to send visions and whispers. The ground working against them hadn't started until she was more in her full power.]

I'd say it's gotten up to a few times a day now. Usually it's just her voice...that's a little easier to ignore.

[Jason studies Kol for a moment and then asks.]

Anything for you besides the screaming? Have you seen the hands?

Edited 2019-11-02 22:26 (UTC)

[ The other boy's lost track of his own lantern in his grief and rage; dislodged when they rolled around in the dirt, it lies a few feet away, its heat melting the frost that clings to the withered grass. Better that way. Had it still hung from his hip, it might have ended up sandwiched between them.

Riku could have his weapon in hand with just a thought, with it he could pin Bruce to the cold earth in as much time as it takes to fill his lungs and empty them again, there's enough fury in him to be violent, evidently.

He doesn't. That's not mercy or restraint, either.

Instead, Bruce is a kind of deterrant for only a moment, and that's when his arms go around Riku. It might seem like an embrace and that's what makes him falter. It's something Sora would've done, to reach out even if someone was trying to hurt him, because on some level he understood that they were hurting, too.

But he isn't Sora. No one can replace Sora. There's never been anyone just like him.

And then Riku feels the cable wind around him. Jerking back, Bruce's headbutt causes Riku to recoil, bleeding a hot dark streak down over his lips and chin. The shove knocks him back and Riku's boot snaps out to kick at him - his stomach, or maybe to fly right over his prone torso.

Regardless, he rolls to the side, swings back that leg and aims it again, heavily, for Bruce's ribs. ]

Yes... it sounds crazy. I'm sorry.

[ Because it is crazy. Ravus is not here. He is, as far as she knows, alive and well and far older than the vision she'd seen in the flames. ]

I am fine... no, thanks to you I did not get injured. I am so sorry... thank you for snapping me out of it, dear.

[ How fortunate Luna is, that someone is around to snap her back into the world of reality. As soon as Elizabeth's hand touches her arm, Luna's eyes widen, and the hallucination of her brother fades. She gasps as she's willingly tugged back, having to blink a few times to clear the haze away. ]

Goodness... I am so sorry, I thought I saw something...

Well, won't do to just sit around and mope.

Though, possibly best to stay with other people. I imagine some of these illusions could lead to grand misunderstandings.

[She goes right for the ax, ignoring his cries, too focused on her own survival to care about his. If she has her way, she'll grab it and throw it out the open doorway; her second step will be to grab him, hauling him up and shoving him into a chair so she can tie him there.

Of course, that's a lot of action for a woman who isn't exactly Miss Fitness. So emphasize the word try there.]

It's in his helm? Really?

That seems to break the fog that's possessed Daylight. But only for a while. Rosinante can probably tell with the way he Day looks up at him, disbelief and fear evident in Day's face as his servos shook from the effort of being kept still.

It's not real. It's not real. It's not real it's not real it's not real- Daylight tries to take Rosinante's words to his spark because he trusts his friends and wants to believe that his a case of mind over matter, but- "No! No! That's not right! It feels real to me! It has to be after everything-"

That's the most that can be forced out of Day's mouth because he soon returns to his maddening need to get the hands off of his frame to keep them from tearing him apart. Daylight beings scrabbling at his armour, clawing and digging at his own seams and panels in a madcap attempt to get them off of him. There's an eerie creak and groan now coming from Daylight now.

It doesn't take long to realise what's happening: Daylight is yanking at his own armour, thinking he's finally gotten a hold of the hands in question.

[Later, she'll tell him more of those devices. She'll share the wonder she felt, the shock, the awe, the giddy way she'd stolen glances at the future, so terribly eager to learn more and more. It was a wonderful thing, once.

But that's for later.]

The father regretted his decision at the last moment. He grabbed the baby out of my patron's hands, and a fight ensued. The baby was caught between-- but thank god, at the last moment, one man one. She was pulled through to my side, but a bit of her-- a pinky-- was sliced off, the digit staying in another world.

That has its effects. The universe . . .

[How to say this.]

We aren't meant to jump between worlds like that. Having parts of you in two worlds . . . the baby began exhibiting strange behaviors. The ability to open doorways between worlds, created on her own impulses. She'd long for-- oh, I don't know. Sweets, say, or a puppy. And she'd make a doorway to find them-- or at least try. Instead, she'd sometimes open doorways to a furious dog or the middle of a street. She was a danger to herself and others.

So. My patron decided that he would task me with building a cage for her. A place for her to be kept like a bird, isolated from anyone and everyone save her books and an artificial guard. For her own good, ostensibly, but more his.

But that's not true. We had that, yes, but it wasn't-- that was another life. This one you have here is. You've just barely found your place. And. And I know you don't like thinking about how you're not the. Chosen one. Or. Whatever. But. But I love you. And Alice loves you. And Margo loves you. Julia loves you. And that. Isn't that worth protecting? At least a little?

[ the longer they talk like this, the more the rest of the world seems to fade into the background, disappearing from view altogether. it's like the first night they'd been here again, but with more clarity. and with both of their fragility, only honesty follows. ]

None of use wanted to lose you. No matter what happened to magic.

...and. Yeah. A lot of people heard. But it's not like we don't have that kind of thing happening every other week during a party anyway, so.

I--I thought that was what I was doing? Protecting that? Protecting everyone.

[And all of magic, because it had to be someone, why not him this time? Everyone else had already been through so much, had already giving so much of themselves and Quentin had escaped all of that with just a few more scars on his soul and a slightly heavier heart.

So, he'd thought - why the hell not.]

Yeah. That-- that really doesn't make it any better that everyone heard me. Jesus. Good thing I didn't know at the time.

[For (almost) the entirety of his life, Ignis had been a constant, calming pretense. A steadfast, immovable force that would constantly be at his side. As surely as the sun would rise and set, Ignis would always return to him. Like a moth draw to a flame, tides giving into the will of the moon. They were two equal parts of the same whole, a matched set that left one incomplete without the other.

Noctis' belief in Ignis was absolute. There were no terms and conditions that came along with it. Freely and wholly given, handed over to this man who had done everything to deserve such blind faith.]

Always.

If you're mad, we're all mad.

They can't hurt you. None of this is real, it's a trick of our imagination.

[He's only half certain of that, but he'll hold to it.]

Yeah, that's...a good idea.

( good thing ambrose likes people anyway. )

Thanks for the pep talk.

Gladly, Ambrose.

Where are you headed now?

I haven't the slightest idea. Probably back to my room. That, at least, is familiar and I know there's four walls and a door that can lock.

( not that visions really follow the rules or anything. )

It'll at least give me a place to be that I can't get lost because the visions confuse me.

Does not knowing mean it'd be easier to face anyone that heard? [ it's amusing to consider, q trying to just shake it off like anything else. but plenty of people at the cottage did hear, so. yep. ]

That wasn't what I was saying though. None of us wanted you to protect everyone. You don't ever protect yourself, and that's why it's. It hurts all of us. Or. Hurt, I guess, now. We're always hoping you can see what we see in you, but. It's like. Like you doon't want to?

A little, anyway.

Yes? Yeah, it does.

[For no reason at all, since everyone hearing is everyone hearing, but not-knowing seems like a shield against being too embarrassed about it, even in hindsight. But, it's not as if he's going to see anyone again. Probably.

Quentin's face falls from the soft half-smile in to a serious one, eyebrows drawing tight together.]

I guess I don't really know what you see in me? Any of you? I never really did.

[ eliot hums. ] I could say the same for you of me. But.

But that doesn't mean I don't try to understand. Since I know it's important to you. Because I love you.

[ though his hold doesn't slacken, he feels his heart ease up. he still feels like mike is there. watching. ready to say anything at any moment, so just make it hurt. twisting the knife had always been easy for people eliot had let in. but he doesn't want to stay here. it's too dangerous. there's the river. and quentin. and all these things they're seeing, hearing, feeling that aren't really there. ]

Hey. Let's go home, okay? I. I don't. I didn't like the way you were looking at the river.

[He wants to argue, that it isn't any better in the cabin. That they follow, everywhere. Even under the bed. Always there, always watching, always commenting. And the hands.

Quentin shudders.

Those hands.

And hugs Eliot tighter.]

Yeah. Okay, yeah. We can-- okay. We can go home.

[ he's quiet for a moment, sending the hesitation. ]

You need to eat. And sleep. And.

And that way, I'll be near. If you call for me, I'll be there in a second. And you can know who is real, and who isn't.

...we can have a code? If it helps. Something the Monster never knew.

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EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

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forgive me for being a million years late! i got super busy at work.

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