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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Are you kidding me? That noseless asshole is probably into some really kinky shit. Sounds like it'd be at least worth a try. [ he laughs in that careless old way he used to, at brakebills. it sounds foreign even to him, but it still holds a familiarity to it he's comfortable wearing, acting like nothing's bothering him in the least even though mike is grabbing at his free arm, trying to pull him away.

he keeps walking. ]

You can't say he was a racist and following a murderer and then follow that with "he doesn't really do bad things", Q. Those are literally bad things. And also he murdered too. For the murderer. Which following a murderer tends to lead to.

And thank you for thinking of my knees, but I'd be okay. I read those books about us too, you know. So I know you know I'd have no trouble doing a few chores for you. [ he glances over to q, lazy smile on his face as he winks. ]

"There were some that were fighting off anyone that came near. Who slept on their graves to try and prevent anyone from seeing their deaths. I've still yet to discover if they died in some embarrassing fashion or it was something dishonorable they wanted no one to know about." So there would have been an opportunity for the Soldier to prevent it, but it seemed excessive to Kuai. He was more upset about seeing others than he had been about them seeing his own.

"It was unsettling, and probably best to be missed. Unfortunately we now have.. this." He gestures around at the hands that he can see, and assumes the other man is seeing some version of it himself.

"Is it weird that I'd rather see people explode and find out it ain't real, get weird fucking Words and gunfire everywhere, than have people get a look inside my head?" the Sergeant asks, mostly rhetorically. He gives a little shiver, the plates in the metal arm recalibrating with a low-level buzz. "Think I'd be one of those people sleepin' on my gravestone. Nobody needs to fuckin' see that."

But also, noseless. [Quentin points out, like that the most important part of that and not the fact that Voldemort murdered countless of fictional people, tortured people and was a general asshole for no reason through most of the story.

Eliot sounds as strained as Quentin feels, voice tight and back straight like it hurts not to.]

Okay, I wield. Lucius was an asshole, too. Maybe just stay away from that whole family all together? They were all assholes.

[Casting around for something else, something light and nonthreatening, something that doesn't have the gut-punch kind of feeling to it-]

But yeah-- uh, Quidditch. Because-- because of. All the ball hitting? Welters just doesn't have the same-- uh, the same ring to it and-- and flying? Oh! [It's not quite a flush, but it's closer to embarrassment than terror.] You read that? I--uh, yeah, well? I already told you, I like your dick.

Edited 2019-11-05 06:51 (UTC)

Are you kidding me? I would love to ruin Draco's day His reactions would be priceless.

[ in case quentin forgot for a second that his best friend is a dramatic mean girl.

it's always precious how quentin sometimes just has a time delay though, a thought processing in the back of his mind while the nerdy half strings words that would make a normal person dizzy just to think about. quintessential quentin. it's comforting to know things haven't changed.

eliot squeezes his hand gently. ]

Right, but my dick wasn't even the one that was out in that scene.

[Counting steps, because maybe that's going to make it easier to get from here to there. Not looking up at any of the voice, not reacting to the hands. Just, one slow breath after the other, one foot in front of the other and eventually they had to get there. Had to get to the wooden door and the dark cabin.

Quentin swallows hard, eyebrow raised.]

You mean, all yelling and threats and being an asshole? Yeah, I can see the funny part of that.

[Stay, stay, stay and his palms are sweaty with dread, clinging to Eliot's through the walk.] Your dick kind of was, though? I mean, it-- uh, someone named like you was giving one, and that made me think about your dick. I told you, a lot of things do.

No...no, no? What? Why would you think, I mean, there's nobody...nobody here. With me.

[Remi grips the paper bag harder in his other hand, his eyes closing as he presses his closed fist to his stomach.]

I really, really can't right now.

[Is he saying that to Jo? Or just...to himself? It's hard to say.]

I like yellow flowers.

[ does he? does he really?

he does. kol always liked the yellow wild flowers he could find back when he was a kid—a long, long, long time ago. despite that throwback, he wears a smile, like he's kidding around. ]

If you're going to get me any. Any flower will do as long as it's yellow.

I mean... does it make it better or worse when you know that she calls him Doc as a mark of sarcasm?

Keeping an eye on other people... and yet he was standing here with her.

"There are people who get hurt a lot easier than me ya know." Her weight shifting from one foot to the other

Oh.

( ambrose sobers and makes a point to not joke about that anymore. )

I can't say I know what that feels like. I've been arrested and even imprisoned in some pretty terrible places but nothing like that.

Yellow. Huh. You know, I wouldn't have guessed that about you.

( he would have guessed you a more darker color man, kol. but he's glad to be surprised. )

Now, you're just going to start finding yellow flowers everywhere and ruing the day you told me that tidbit of information.

You're gonna make it say it again, Scarlett. "Other people aren't my friend. I wanted to at least check on you." Especially since it has mostly kept to following from a distance for the past week, lest it accidentally hurt her, itself. Not-remembered shouting matches not withstanding.

The music, still playing, transitions into "Friends will be Friends". Irony. Mostly, that's just the one that comes up next alphabetically, but it's still a little funny.

Daylight screams when he feels something latches onto his wrists. His instinct is to immediately charge up and lash out, attempting to let out a series of sparks and lashes of arc energy to try and get whatever is trying to attack him to get away get away get away-

But when the initial rush of fear leaves him and Rosinante's words finally settle in Daylight's processors, spinning and screaming as they were- Well... The fear returns, stronger than ever, but it's directed at himself rather than for himself. Because oh Creator- He- He-

"I could have killed you...." The ploy on Rosinante's end seems to have worked. Actual physical contact reminds Day of how the weight of someone's touch should be, how it's impossible for something to be grabbing at all directions. "I'm so sorry. I almost hurt you."

Daylight's optics shutter for a bit and he looks around upon reactivating his sight and he now truly sees how it's just him and Rosinante in this part of the library. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Are you- I didn't think I could- Oh no-"

I'm not going anywhere.

( Foolish child, he nearly adds, though her whimpering holds him back. His voice is far less stern now, but reassuring. His grip on her lessens somewhat, but he still keeps his hands clasped around her wrist and arm. )

Drop the knife and I will show you.

[The lack of questioning is either telling, or else she's just really, really polite. Usually people ask about HYDRA, at least about the funny name. Maybe she's heard of them?]

No, there's no one back there. I can get you something if you want.

[It gets things for Crowley all the time, it knows its way around back there. Just don't ask it to mix any drinks; that's not a skill it's learned just yet.]

[Ignis watches the guy with raising dread in his gut- if he knew he'd climb it that high, he wouldn't have let him. Who knows what were those hands in the trees, it is really unflattering place to fight too- dark and unsteady.

-And as suspected, the guy falls. Ignis didn't see if anything attacked him or no, he's rushing to his side with a worried look on his face.]

Are you alright? That looked like a really hard fall.

[He gives guy's legs a look, then takes his forearms to check the wrists- ankles and wrists tend to get damaged first during the fall.]

Anything sprained? [Ignis asks, eyes glancing at the tree to keep an eye out for those hands that Jason mentioned.]

( There's no look of compassion that crosses his features, but all the same, he understands. A child like that should be locked up, for the safety of her and for everyone else. He knows that but — despite the logic, despite everything, he of all people should know that a cage is not a place to raise a child. It is a harmful, distasteful thing.

He's quiet for a moment, before looking over at her evenly and wondering, )

You feel guilty about this?

( That seems to be the point of it all, doesn't it? To make them feel poorly about themselves. )

Jo isn't sure if she should go ahead and explain how dangerous magic is in her world. She feels like it's a very good explanation (and rule to follow) but...

Showing her cards that easily seems dangerous.

"We don't know what they can do."

[This would not even remotely be the first time he's been bitten by a struggling child, not that it makes it less painful. He's too focused to even really flinch, though he's sure the bite will sting like hell later. Priority number one is to grapple the knife away so she can't hurt herself more or hurt him either; priority two is to enshroud her in the darkness of his coat to keep out those damned hands so bent on making her suffer.]

Mary, it's okay. They can't get to you. I've got you.

[His voice rumbles low and quiet in his chest and as he looks around, he sees no more hands. Perhaps he's thwarted them by using himself as a shield. Bright red streaks across his lap and the floor, though. He'll have to check on her injury but he's hoping she'll at least settle down for a second first.]

No, no, no, no!

[She doesn't seem to understand his intentions. She grapples, feeling like everything is dark. Not just dark, but black, solid nothing, swallowing up everything around her until there won't be anything at all left. She writhes, providing Rosi no such luck at an easy end to the situation, trying with all her might to hold on and to hack and slash as it all comes in to snuff her out.

Mary starts to cry--a truly fearful, desperate cry.]

Please don't take it away from me! It was my father's, he left it! I don't have anything else!

[Her whimpering escalates to a full-on wail as she tugs. But finally, finally, she seems to realize there's no escaping, and the weight of her body drops downward, trying to pull him with her to the ground.]

[She's small and squirmy and he only has one truly useful arm right now with the other bound in its sling, so she's already slipping out of his hold when she manages to stab him in the thigh. That is definitely worse than a bite, and he gives a huff of surprise and lets go of her abruptly. Her little blade is hardly more than a bee sting to him, but he certainly wasn't expecting that.

Unlike her, he bleeds real blood and it wells up dark through his pants next to the brighter red she'd dripped all over. He only gives it a glance before eyeing her again, deeply worried. And he can't help but glance around the room too, sporadically, expecting that at any moment, hands will reach out of the dark.]

I just don't want you to hurt yourself. I don't want them to hurt you. Please, put the knife down.

[She gives her a very flat look in spite of her growing anxiety.]

Answer the question.

The energy crackles in the air, singeing hair and clothing and skin alike in bursts, though thankfully most of it it thrown so wildly it misses entirely. There's a spot, though, clearly too close, where it has left a bright red welt on his cheek and temple, and his bangs curl at the ends. It was terrifying and it stings like hell, but in truth, he's durable enough where once Daylight settles down, he's over it quickly. Rosinante has set himself on fire so many times just trying to have a smoke that this doesn't seem to faze him beyond that initial moment of wild-eyed panic as he held on to Daylight.

Now, he lets go and sits up, heart pounding. More important than his own very superficial injury is making sure Daylight really is okay and he takes a second to make sure he's not about to start pulling himself apart again.

"I'm fine," he insists. "Really. You looked like you were going to pull your own head off. I'll take this instead any day." Curious though, he reaches for the compact from his makeup kit and has a quick look at the streak of red on his cheekbone. "Won't even notice that in a week," he declares.

Um- There's a lot going on in the air so I've been hearing a lot, lately.

[ ... which is, translated from daylight, is probably a 'no' in regards to her question.

(that, and he's a little too worried/self-conscious to admit the things he's been hearing for a while. so yeah. let's focus on jo's situation since it's really serious-) ]

Salt shouldn't be too hard, the rats aside. There should be salt in the general store. Maybe in the Invincible. [ he has no idea what goofer dust is but presumes it's only from her world- or derived from something only from her world. a lot of animals and plants he thought long extinct/exotic seem common here, after all. ]

Do you need me to be with you? Just in case? I mean- More heads are better than one for this, I think.

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EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

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