EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

[inthenightmods]

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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Comments

[callada]

"Yeah, uh," he replies quickly as he tries to gather his thoughts back into the present. The hallucinations have done great work dragging up a lot of things he'd managed to try and move past in his adult years. He's stronger than that, he just has to remind himself of it more persistently right now.

"The Invincible. Top floor on the end, room three-ten. Staying there with Mary, the little blonde girl who's always drawing. Have you met her?"

[worthallthis]

"Mary. Yeah. I killed a dragon-bush for her," the Soldier says with something that's actually mostly a smile. "She wanted to be a princess and said I could be her knight. Apparently knights kill dragons." And she also told it she wasn't a person, either, and got really creepy. (The memory still twinges, a little.) "Is she all right? I saw her earlier, and. She didn't seem like she was taking all this. Well."

[callada]

"Sounds noble," he sighs. Dragon-killing probably usually is. But then he shrugs. "I haven't seen her much this week. Might have to go track her down."

Because man, it's not great to hear she's not doing well. But he's been intentionally avoiding her, especially after the first few days once he realized the consistent patterns in the hallucinations, because he doesn't want to frighten her.

"I'd be surprised if anyone at all is taking this sort of thing well. That would require a pretty strong lack of awareness."

[worthallthis]

Or a demon's blessing. Not that the Soldier would say it's doing well, exactly, right now... but a hell of a lot better than most people. Even for its own usual baseline, this isn't bad.

It considers for a moment, with another puff on the cigarette and then practiced tap to rid it of some ash, then says, "Maybe you should find her. She was unhappy, said people kept leaving her. Also kind of creepy. Did you know she doesn't think she's a person?" Because, really. That's an important thing for a roommate to know, it figures.

[callada]

"Yeah, I know. She's had a rough shot at life. She's probably better off here than where she was."

At least here she can be cared for and treated like an actual child, rather than someone's discarded project. He keeps having these stray, wayward children cross his path and while he can't save them all, he does try his best to give them a better future. Hard to say now if he's ever really succeeded in doing that, though.

He certainly hopes so for at least one of them.

"I'll find her. Where did you see her last?"

[worthallthis]

"The benches by the bonfire," the Soldier answers. "That was a few days ago, though. She's probably moved somewhere else." I mean... of course she's moved by now. That was a very dumb thing to say.

The Soldier hesitates, then asks, "Do you know why she thinks that?" It will understand if Rosinante doesn't want to share, as Mary's story might have been said in confidence or be too personal for Mary to want discussed, but there doesn't seem to be any harm in asking. Less than 30% risk of punishment from Rosinante.

[callada]

Days ago, yeah. Who knows where she is now, then. Well, as long as she hasn't wandered into the forest, or somehow been dragged there by all these intangible hands with their seeking, string-spinning fingers, he'll find her. The place isn't that big.

"I do," he replies. "But it's not my place to share it." He'd had to bargain for that information. Had to promise to her that no matter what he learned, he wouldn't hate or fear her, and wouldn't abandon her like others had done.

"She's lucky here. A lot of people care about her, I've noticed."

[worthallthis]

"There are. Good people here," the Soldier says slowly. "People who don't want a little girl sad, no matter what she is." Honestly, it always assumed that death would be better than life, but more along the line of "an end to suffering" than "finding people who actually care". Maybe she's lucky the same way the Soldier is, in that way.

Of course, they still have to deal with the fucking nightmares and hallucinations. That isn't great. But right now, the Soldier might even consider that worth it.

[callada]

"Who she is, not what," he corrects gently. Soldat may not think of himself as a person, and so frequently refers to himself as a thing, and that's his choice - but it would be a shame to misspeak around Mary even if he didn't mean to offend. She is a person, no matter her origins, and it's best for her if they all help to reinforce that.

"And you don't have to consider yourself property either, you know. You're your own person here. In control of your own life."

Well, most of the time, since it literally looks like he's being controlled by an invisible puppeteer and too many hands right now, but he's glad that at least in this moment, he's certain those things aren't real.

[worthallthis]

The Soldier might not be afraid of anything, as such, right now-- but it sure can still be startled, as that produces a twitch so unexpected it almost drops the nearly-gone cigarette. It looks over at Rosinante with an aggrieved expression. You almost cost it the last two hits, pal, not nice.

"Not a person," it says, though it's more automatic than painful at this point. Aside from Mary's statement the other day, anyway. "My own, or otherwise. Not exactly property, either, though. Just a weapon that needs a hand to point it in the right direction." It shrugs, finishes off the cigarette finally, and drops it into the dirt to rub the last spark out under its boot. "But Mary deserves better than that."

[callada]

Well, that's not an opinion that's going to change any time soon, then. The reaction was reflexive. Beyond training and into something like brainwashing, which he'd noted before but had hoped by no there was some chance it might not hold with enough insistence. Does it matter to him? Not really. It's a shame, but if the soldier is going to insist, then he'll let it be.

"Pick that up," he says, nodding to the butt. "My agreement with Rastus. He doesn't want litter sitting around."

[worthallthis]

"Oh." That's different from the expected, and kind of baffling, but honestly, much easier to handle than more insistance that it's a damn person. Simple instructions, hopefully with something to learn at the end. It drops to a crouch to collect the butt, pausing a moment when it flares up with blue light (it doesn't, and picking it up with the metal hand proves that it's not glowing or on fire or anything; fucking hallucinations), then gives Rosinante a questioning look as it stands. "Then what do I do with it."

[callada]

"Here-"

He stops and reaches into a pocket, and retrieves a bag that had once contained sweets he'd found to share with Mary. It's clearly been in use as a cigarette butt container for a while now though as there are a few in there already.

"I'll toss them in the bonfire next time I go past it. Seems to be the easiest way to get rid of them," he says as he holds it out.

"I would've done the same as you, normally. But Rastus won't get me more if he sees them on the ground. Of course, not sure how I'll get more now anyway." A bummer, but so be it - and he's not saying that to make Soldat feel guilty, either. They've already had that conversation so now it's just a sad fact.

[worthallthis]

Still feels bad, though, even if he doesn't mean it. The Soldier looks a resigned, but at least doesn't try to apologize again. "The Keeper did say something about calling in a favor." It drops the butt into the bag obligingly. Then pauses to eye the bag narrowly, as a pair of hands rise out of it to catch the butt and toss it aside. (Not real. It went where it belonged. I know it did.) "And that I should help rebuild the dock. Maybe there is another ferry."

It can hope, can't it?

[callada]

Likewise, Rosinante watches with a grimace as, from his perspective, hands reach up from below to tear open the bag and dump the contents to the ground. For a brief moment he stoops down and slaps at the air, then pauses and looks at the bag again. Okay, no. Still intact with its trash contents. Ugh.

"Right," he sighs as he pockets the baggie and retrieves his lantern so they can continue on toward the inn, just ahead now. "I saw her mention that favor of hers. I would love to know what sort of contact she has with the world outside this town."

[worthallthis]

Nice that the idea wasn't rejected out of hand. The Soldier frowns, expression thoughtful. "I wonder if she would say anything if we asked. I was too upset at the time to ask. And I don't really like using the network."

[callada]

"Oh? Why not?"

It strikes him as an odd preference. Sure, it's well outside what he knew from home, but the network is damn handy. It does have its downfalls when sticking to text rather than voice, but it's much easier to write a short message than a full letter, and the fact that said messages get delivered instantly rather than taking weeks is pretty astonishing.

[worthallthis]

"Too permanent and too insecure. Could be hacked, and leaves a record that can't be destroyed but can also be accessed from anywhere in the village if you have another device." It starts for the Invincible again. They're almost there, anyway. And, with a glance over its shoulder at Rosinante, it adds (maybe possibly not seriously): "Also, metal fingers on touchscreens are hard."

[callada]

Okay, the latter part is definitely fair. The rest, well. Permanency doesn't bother him too much because there are plenty of alternatives. Don't want something permanent? Just talk to them in person. No reason to avoid the network itself otherwise.

"Not like we have a choice when it comes to Robin, though. But maybe you can explain - I've seen that word here and there, 'hacked'. What exactly does that mean, and how does someone do it?"

He's got the implications, he thinks. Somehow involving messing with someone's tablet remotely, but a real definition would be more helpful than guessing based on context.

[worthallthis]

"Breaking into an electronic device remotely, usually to steal information or to. Lay electronic traps." How else does one describe a virus to someone unfamiliar. Hopefully that makes sense. "That either collect data on the user or cause damage to the data already there. And I do read it," it adds. "There's useful information there." It reads it kind of obsessively, actually, not wanting to miss anything useful and needing that input to help it feel more secure in knowing what's going on around the village. "I just don't like to use it myself if I don't have to."

[callada]

"I see."

Sort of. It does fill in a lot of gaps, and now he has ideas for more questions to ask later, either to the Soldier or to others, like Will. For right now, though, it feels a little overwhelming. He's too underslept to focus on something so new and complicated. Strings fall like rain at the corners of his vision.

Finally, they find their way to the front door of The Invincible and Rosinante hangs back so Soldat can open it, given his own one uninjured hand is occupied by his lantern.

"I've been trying to learn these tablets ever since I got here, but I seem to regularly discover that there's more that I still don't know than I knew possible."

[worthallthis]

Sorry, Rosi, you also had to ask one of the most paranoid people in the village about it, too. The Soldier is probably going to exaggerate the risks, here, because even a tiny risk is too much of one.

It does open the door for him, though. "Your world doesn't have this kind of thing?" It has to admit to still being curious about this not-Earth place Rosinante came from.

[callada]

"Not that I've seen. I'm used to writing with a quill and ink on paper," he says as he heads inside and picks a table to set his lantern on, then seats himself cross-legged on the floor.

Or, well, attempts to seat himself. Hands shove a chair into the space and he realizes too late it was there all along as he crashes sideways into it. The chair topples sideways, and in his current state he's too slow to react to do much other than look distastefully over at it and all the noise it made.

"Anything else, like voice calls or photographs, are done with the snails," he continues, as if that's somehow self-explanatory. It is to him, at least.

[worthallthis]

The Soldier comes to collect the chair, just glad it hadn't been a different kind of Chair this time, and moves it aside for him. Makes flapping motions with one of its own hands at the ones hovering around the edge of the nearest table. Shoo.

It drifts over to the bar, close enough for conversation, in an attempt to find something edible and non-alcoholic (surely booze won't help people hallucinating, will it?) to offer the guy. "Snails?" That's an invertibrate with a shell, isn't it? How would that work?

[callada]

He watches Soldat shoo at nothing - normal enough now, somehow, terribly - and then lights up a new cigarette and indulges in that for a moment.

"Snails," he repeats as he twists the top of his lantern back into place, then cradles the whole lantern in his lap to keep it away from the hands that reach to steal it away. "I've heard you guys don't have them on Earth, or not like ours, anyway. They're telepathic and light-sensitive so we have them rigged up to tech to use as phones, or cameras, or other things." Projectors, signal jammers, call interception, the list goes on. Useful little creatures, snails.

"I had one with me when I got here, but it came through dead, somehow. Ended up burying it." Rest in peace, little guy.