logsinthenight | 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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"Sit," it says, guiding her to the couch, and dropping the nearest throw blanket or whatever from the couch over her shoulders. The Soldier shouldn't be giving orders to a handler, but Misty only barely counts, and it's a nice order, anyway. "I know where everything is. I'll get you whatever you need while you warm up." And then maybe they can talk about music more, instead of other things. Maybe she'll forget.

Hardly counts, and she listens quite readily, comfortable enough deferring to someone who has proven good intent and competence. Better than any alternative that comes to mind. There's a vague indication she'd appreciate tea, but her primary focus is burrowing into any and all offered cover.

"Do you not remember any music?"

"I don't remember much of anything," the Soldier shrugs, collecting additional linens for her first. Basically it's just going to do exactly for her what she did a few days ago for it, seeing at that worked nicely then. Well, plus tea, since she seems to want that, too. "HYDRA isn't exactly known for their love of music. There wasn't any in the bank vault with the Chair and cryotank, or on the only missions that I remember." It comes back with a towel for her hair that it drops right on top of her head in a vaguely almost maybe playful gesture, and another blanket for her legs and feet. Then to the kitchen.

Is this the first he's mentioned 'HYDRA'? Everything is just fuzzy enough she can't quite tell, and she's not feeling up to pressing for any more than he freely gives at present. So she nods her understanding, quick to burrow into any and all dry cloth on offer.

The towel, as a matter of fact, earns a tentative smile. Having known him not terribly long, it's surprising that little humane quirks are so comforting.

"Anything you can vaguely recall liking? An instrument, vocals or not, anything? Don't want to culture shock you more than I can help."

It pauses to think a moment, filling the teapot, then shakes its head. "I know I. Came from. World War II." That comes out a little halting, mostly because of the stupid handler technicality and how it shouldn't be telling one it remembers something about Before HYDRA, but also in part because it's had some weird reactions to that fact. "So maybe music from then, if you have any?"

She considers this, nodding further into her blankets. "None to speak of, but I'll ask Rastus about it. Find some records and a player, it can't be that hard." And even if it were, he seems worth significant efforts at this point. "But that's good to know in general - I'll poke around. Maybe there's a cookbook in the library somewhere from around then. If the place has got robots, I don't know why it wouldn't have that much."

No weird reaction. Or punishment. Good. "Maybe. Any music would be fine, though. Probably. It's not like I remember it, I just." (Want it. Yeah, that.)

She smiles away, comfortably tucked in her blanket nest. Continues weighing and considering current options, and potential means of expansion.

"Could try the discman sometime, if you want. Not as fun when it's just you listening, but to hear anything at all in your position - I'd be beelining for it."

"That's yours, I don't want to use your only music," the Soldier protests, albeit not very strenuously, because she's right, the instant she gives the okay, it will be beelining. And that seems rude. It offers an immediate compromise: "You can. Just play it loudly while I'm here. I have very good hearing." Which is true. The only reason it hadn't already gotten familiar with what she was listening to was the white noise of the rain and how the headphones on her ears directed the sound.

"It's not finite," she half-lies, wondering how many batteries she had upstairs - the two extra, she believes. "If you really wanted to, you could. Not that I'm complaining about that option either." It's earned awhile to dry yet, but knowing ahead is good.

"Wish this had come up sooner, so much time we missed out on."

Oh. Hrm. The Soldier is absolutely not going to run down Misty's music-device's power. "There is electricity here. Some. It could be charged. And the tablets never run out. If you put the music on those somehow?" It's thinking, now, even as it turns to the now-whistling tea kettle to pour her a cup over the tea. "I'd need to see the device." It doesn't know what a discman is, exactly, aside from having seen her carrying it, but surely there could be something they could work out.

EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

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