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?

QUICKNAV
comms	\|	network • logs • memes • ooc
pages	\|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Really?" Recovering from that moment of socially inept awkward. "That's how you think of me?" There's a teasing quality to her tone now, the offended response clearly all for show. She's weirdly okay with being thought of as the one who he shot, at least when those no guilt attached to it. Better that than the one he patched up or who taught him how to make the very thing he's about to eat. It just made it... simpler, to think of them in that way.

"He." The correction is automatic and she cringes a little, knowing how Tinman preferred to think of himself. "Just because he thinks he's not a person doesn't mean he should have you talking that way." Only absently aware of how weird it was that she was talking about two halves of the same whole as if they were completely separate entities. She supposed right now, they kind of were.

"Damper." It probably had some other name but this was all she'd ever known it as. She can't help but watch him out of the corner of her eye as she breaks off a small chunk of bread. Dipping it in the pooling maple syrup in the hollow left in the foil.

"Yes it is." There's no fighting the grin that takes hold now, a smile that brightens up her hold face as she tips her head back to drop the dripping bread into her mouth. The warm, buttery sweetness spreading across her tastebuds as soft hum of contentment vibrates against her lips.

"The one thing I find hard to hate about this place." Swallowing and glancing in his direction before she continues. "Food. Even when we're worried about making it lat? More food here than I've seen in a long time."

"You asked how we knew you," he says, blinking mock-innocently at her, well aware her offense isn't genuine. The Sergeant is absolutely capable of teasing, it seems. "Not going to complain about the food, though, promise. It's nice to actually get to eat instead of fucking be fed. The variety is nice, too, even when it's Aziraphale's goddamned canned peaces. He let me have some coffee stash earlier, too, that was amazing. I'm never going without coffee for this long again."

He munches more of the damper. He understands the Soldier not wanting to eat too much-- he even agrees, feeling that lingering guilt just as much-- but that doesn't mean he's not fucking hungry, and maple syrup has plenty of calories and tastes damn good, too.

"And, you know, look. I call the Soldier what it wants to be called. I have to share this head, and I'd rather not get it all upset with me, especially right now. I'm just glad it doesn't freak out about me having a proper fucking gender, because I was actually kind of surprised it didn't do that worse than it did."

"Aziraphale." Nodding like she recognizes the name. "Texts like he's writing a damn letter." She hadn't actually made the connection between Aziraphale, Crowley and Tinman. She hadn't even realized how involved he'd been in the Ferry hijacking because honestly?. She'd had more important things to worry about in the wake of that and a good chunk of her energy was centered around hating Crowley.

"Should have mentioned you liked coffee before." Arching an eyebrow. Canned crap wasn't the only thing she had stashed away, that was just the stuff she'd been keeping a stockpile of in case, well shit like the ferry actually happened. "Might have some tucked away for a rainy day." Rafe had liked his coffee and he'd liked Scarlett's weapons. It was probably about as close to liking Scarlett as Rafe got, but? When he'd disappeared - Died - better she get his coffee than it go to waste. She'd always figured she could bribe the Doc with it if need be.

She does little to mask her discomfort at him referring to him as an 'it', her displeasure twisting her features even if she chooses not to pick a fight over it. She was trying to grasp that there was only so much that 'The Soldier' could handle but he wasn't a fucking thing. He was a person, whether he was ready to admit it or not.

"He hasn't really freaked out on me." More a silent observation than anything as she drops her gaze back to her breakfast. "Ya know. Stalking and attempted murder aside." Not that she shows any lingering effects of that day, something that in and of itself was strange. People don't completely heal from infected bullet wounds in just a week or two.

"Yeah, we've seen that. It's kind of endearing, if he weren't terrifying in person." Yeah, the round-faced, waistcoat-clad, posh English angel is terrifying. They have a slightly skewed idea of what makes someone terrifying.

"You should probably know," the Sergeant says after another few bites of his very fine breakfast, "the Soldier is damn good at hiding what it feels. Better than I am. Maybe not that it's hiding something, it's not that subtle, but what's under that blank thing it does is usually a lot worse than it seems." He thinks back, then adds, "Though you're better than a lot of people. You're just about the only person we haven't been actively scared of, so hey, that's something."

"Seriously?!" She lets out a huff of breath, but having not seen him in person it's kind of hard to get it. Honestly if she had? She'd probably be even more confused.

She continues to bristle every time he calls him an it, shoving food in her mouth to keep from correcting him. Her gaze shifting between him and the bread as he tries to offer a little insight into the mind of who he called 'The Soldier.'

"This patience shit is hard sometimes." Because whether it shows or not, she has been trying to be patient. To simply allow him to come to terms in his own time but things like this - It instead of He - she feels too much like she's enabling his thinking that he's not a person if she just accepts it rather than challenges it. "I've never been around people long enough to give a shit about where they came from or where they were going."

"You're tellin' me, you don't have to live in this head," the Sergeant says. "You know how much of a fight it is to do anything? Besides eat and stalk people, I mean. That shit's easy. But having a single goddamn conversation without tripping over all the crap they put in here? Forgive me if I'm not that fuckin' sympathetic, right now."

But he doesn't sound annoyed at her. Just kind of... frustrated. He's not even looking at her, he's kind of glaring impotently at the last of his damper. Spending this much time "outside" has been unfamiliar and stressful, especially since he has the Soldier literally counting on him not to fuck anything up, and he's dealing with basically living in a psychological minefield, and he has no idea what he's doing. It's not like his actual consciousness is any older or more experienced than the Soldier's, despite the flashes of random knowledge he has, and living with all this conditioning more directly has actually made him a lot more sympathetic to the Soldier.

"Hell. Maybe you hanging around longer, this time, will be good for all of us," he suggests with a kind of grim hope. "You learn patience, we learn how to be more like--" He physically flinches before he can say "a person", cutting off and squeezing his eyes shut as everything throws up the mental equivalent of air raid sirens. He takes a few breaths until things quiet down, then grumbles, "See? That. Fucking that. I can't even think about being-- something else-- without everything in here going on high alert."

Edited 2019-10-19 06:28 (UTC)

Perhaps he'd catch the way her whole body stiffens at his reply, the shutters coming down over her eyes. Scarlett's jaw locking into place as it seems she wasn't the only one to strike a nerve.

"I never asked for your sympathy." Her tone had lost any semblance of warmth that had been there before, the syrup soaked bread turning to ash on her tongue as she forced herself to take another bite and then swallow without really tasting it. This was why she hated being around people all the time, because she couldn't just walk away and never have to deal with them again. That would have been how she'd handled it before, how she'd basically handled everything her whole life. Of course, she hadn't had much of a choice. That's what happened when you were raised in seclusion and kept living that way until the whole world went to shit.

What was happening now was just driving home her point because the fact was, it would be better for her if she just didn't care. If he could talk about this shit and it meant nothing to her and she could go about her day. Her life had been a whole lot simpler before she'd been drawn to the lab. Before she'd found out about the twin sister she didn't remember having and her life had become more than killing Vampires.

"Depends on your definition of good, I guess." Still not quite able to soften her words as they both find themselves staring at their damper. The flickering light from the bonfire causing shadows to dance across her features. The Soldier wasn't the only one who was good at shutting down, and just like he'd said about him? What was going on behind those dead eyes was generally far worse than what was being shown.

"Maybe you should try talking to him." Folding the foil over the remainder of her bread. "Not like either of you are going anywhere."

Don't think he doesn't notice you keep calling the Soldier "him", Scarlett. You're just lucky said Soldier isn't listening right now. "I talk to that jerk all the time. Though right now it's not talking back much. The only reason I'm out here is it's fucking hiding."

Maybe he's ignoring her stonewalling him. It's not like he didn't just unload a whole day's (month's?) worth of frustration and unhappiness on her, or anything. Besides, it's like the Soldier keeps saying, she's it's friend, not his, right? Fuck, that's messed up.

And also not how he wants it to be. It's not like either of them is going to exist without the other, and he likes having someone to banter with. And the Soldier will be so upset if it peeks its consciousness back up and finds he's pissed her off. The Sergeant might frequently call the Soldier names, but the idea of actually upsetting it isn't a nice one.

So he makes a frustrated sort of groan, rolls his head back to look up at the stars rather than at her, and says, "Look, I'm an asshole, I'm gonna own that right now. Fucked up that I'm more of an asshole than the brainwashed assassin, right?"

"Do you talk with him or at him?" Her tone suggesting she expects its the former. She's tried talking at him and she knows it doesn't work any better than trying to force him to think like she does, would.

The fucked up part is that she gets it - as much as she can - she can't even blame him for his frustration but she can't just allow his words to roll off of her, which is in part why it bothered her. He was hardly the first asshole to say something and not give a fuck about how she might feel but because of the last couple of months? He'd been the first in a while to get under her skin, though not entirely because of his words.

"Not really." Still, there's no real warmth there, but it has far more to do with her head space than his presence. More to do with the fact that she'd allowed herself to be casually open with him only to run straight into a brick wall. She might get it, might get over it but she can't help the cautious control she's wrapped around her now, Scarlett staring at the way the light of the fire catches on the foil in her hands as the strangely welcome sound of forest insects surround them.

"Tinman doesn't know how to be an asshole." He just is. He doesn't exist emotionally the way others do. He doesn't get hurt by words or actions in quite the same way. "Sometimes I almost envy him for it." Assholes are made by experiences, people aren't born that way. The world hasn't been allowed to make him an asshole, though what he had been made into was far worse in a different way. "Almost."

"Don't. Trust me. You don't want to live like this. It ain't worth it." He huffs something that could be related to a sigh if it weren't so short and annoyed, and gets back to eating the last few bites of the damper. Grumpy or not, he needs food.

Keep up the brick wall, Scarlett, that's fine. The Sergeant's dealt with it before. He's pretty sure once the Soldier's back she'll be over it, anyway. That's the important part. If she wants to be mad at the Sergeant, let her, he can handle it. (Ah, who am I kidding. Ain't like I have a lot of friends, either.)

So he says, "We remembered the Wizard of Oz, by the way. We get the reference. Soldier thinks it's a damn fine reference."

She should feel like an asshole but she can't, or at least won't let that sway her. She'd learned something today and while it probably wasn't a lesson either one of them wanted her to, it was that she was getting too comfortable around him - around others. People around here, they didn't know her, not really. It was better if she kept it that way.

"That's not how I meant it." Tinman, like he was some heartless thing. Though she supposed that it was fitting in a way. Not that he was heartless but that he was missing a piece of something the world couldn't quite see, and he was slowly trying to find it.

"He has a heart he's just... figuring out how it works."

You tell yourself that it's better not to know people, Scarlett, and then you say things like that about the Soldier. You're lying to yourself worse than it is.

"Yeah, I know." Don't expect the worst from him all the time, Scarlett. Just some of the time. He balls up the foil, the damper gone and his stomach feeling at least a little less crampy. "The Tinman spent all that time wanting a heart, but by the end of the movie you figure out he had one all along and just had to have somebody show it to him. Right? Soldier called it 'stupidly fitting'."

How's that saying go? Do as I say, not as I do?

It had been a very long time since she'd seen that movie, funny then how she could have missed how appropriate her choice of nickname had been. Funnier still that she wasn't oblivious to the fact that she just might play a role in this story. It's a little jarring for her to realize what he's trying to say there and she pointedly looks away. Not quite comfortable with the idea that she was the sort of person who could show anyone - let alone Tinman - something like that.

It was easier to be open with 'The Soldier' because he hadn't learned how to see through her shit. The Sergeant though? He didn't just have the emotional capacity to hurt somebody, he had the emotional maturity to see past her excuses.

"Yeah well." Taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. "He's got people. He'll figure it out."

"Like you, I take it. Miss I-brought-you-breakfast." He tosses the foil ball lightly at the side of her head. "Even if you can't stand me, I know you like the Soldier just fine."

He might be trying to avoid using pronouns for his headmate entirely, since he can't not use the Soldier's preferred one, but he's pissed Scarlett off enough already today.

With reflexes that are unnaturally fast, she catches the foil ball without even thinking about it. Her scowl still in place as she meets his gaze, clearly not happy with him calling her out that way.

It's not lost to her that 'normal people' can't do shit like that and maybe that's the reason for her next words.

"Never said I can't stand you." Shrugging her shoulders and making a face that supposed to suggest she doesn't care. "I don't even know you." Which is perhaps the whole point. She doesn't know him any better than he knows her.

~~Yeah whose fault is that, Scarlett~~.

The Sergeant's brows go up briefly. "Nice catch." The Soldier could do that-- so could he, probably-- but he hadn't figured on Scarlett having those kind of reflexes. Interesting.

"You did fine during the memory malfunction," he points out. "But maybe I was being nicer then, too." He pushes himself up, done warming up by the fire and now at least not stupidly starving. "You good here? Or you want to walk?"

Giving her an out, in case she's done with him, after all that.

Scarlett bristles again, because of course she fucking does, her eyes narrowing as she too comes to stand. She never gets too close to Tinman, always allowing him to come to her but right now she doesn't stop herself from crowding The Sergeant, her voice pitched low when she speaks.

"Maybe you weren't the only one holding back."

( Dear god she's so much better with The Soldier. )

"I'm good." Ready to break free from his bubble and walk away.

Before he's even had the chance to think, remember who exactly that is that just surged up to two inches from his face, there's a knife in his metal hand, and it's swung up between them at her throat as he ducks back, eyes wide and body suddenly tense with fear. Sergeant or not, it's still the same body, the same brain, and the same past week of horrifying hallucinations. They're still technically the same being, and sudden invasions of personal space induce panic and violence in that being.

Scarlett has enhanced reflexes and speed, thanks to vampire blood; so does he, thanks to supersoldier serum. Even if she doesn't manage to yank herself back in time (which, hey, she might), he'll at least manage to pull the slice before she gets more than a knick, realizing at the last minute what he's about to do. Exactly what the Soldier has him out here not to do.

The Soldier is never gonna fucking forgive him.

He might not forgive Scarlett any time soon, either, exclaiming shakily, "The fuck, Scarlett!"

The thing is? She could have. She possessed the ability to dodge the sharpened edge of his blade entirely and yet she doesn't. She holds her ground, still staring at him, almost like she's daring him to do it. Like she wants him to see that she has no fear when anyone with half a lick of sense would be terrified right now.

It's just a knick but a trickle of blood still runs down the length of her neck, her dark eyes burning into him as she shows not so much as a flicker of the remorse that the situation calls for. She barely reacts at all, an immovable object to the unstoppable force of his inevitable reaction.

After a long beat of silence, she raises her hand to swipe the blood from her skin, her neck left unblemished but for the smear of red that remains.

"The fuck, indeed." Her tone drained of emotion as she wipes her hand on her pants, making some point that only seemed to make sense in her head; That he didn't know her, that he frankly didn't know the first damn thing about her and perhaps that he probably wouldn't like her much if he did.

It's not exactly silence, because the Sergeant is breathing hard and backing another couple steps away from her, like she might launch at him again, and this time he has to be ready for her.

Right now, yeah, he doesn't like her much at all. He's shaky and angry and can't believe he almost did that. (Yeah, I fucking can. I can't believe she fuckin' did that!) "Jesus Christ. I coulda fuckin' killed you. Soldier woulda never forgiven me. The fuck is your problem!"

Her gaze drops to his feet as he starts to move away, something that almost looks like a nod of her head as he puts more distance between them. She expects it, maybe event wants it. Like it's just better for both of them if they simply stop.

A humorless huff of a laugh escapes as she drags her gaze back to him.

"No. You couldn't have." Not unless she'd let him, but she's not sure she could honestly answer whether she would have or not.

"I don't have a problem Army Man." Taking a few steps back herself, her arms out to the side like she's embracing the moment. "I just don't care."

"Now ain't that just the biggest lie you ever told," the Sergeant spits back at her, pointing with the bloody knife as if it were a scolding finger, and the plates on his arm are shaking and whirring noisily as if anticipating more violence. "I'm gonna do us both a favor and not pass along that you said that." Probably because he's going to be a chickenshit and not tell the Soldier about any of this little interaction. But still. Now he has a reason. "You'd break its fuckin' heart, cuz the Soldier don't know any better. I do, and I call horse shit."

"Yeah cause you know me so fucking well." Her scowl returning as he starts to push again when she was trying to shut down.

"Don't do me any favors." A muscle in her jaw jumping as her nails found the palm of her hand. The crescent shaped wounds she inflicted keeping her grounded as she kept them dug into her flesh. "And stop fucking acting like you know the first god damn thing about me cause you don't -

- and you never will."

Yeah. Definitely not sharing any of this with the Soldier. Angry, still shaking from the almost-throat-slicing and close proximity, and feeling stupidly a little hurt even though he's absolutely through with Scarlett (for the moment, anyway), the Sergeant throws up his hands. Literally throws them up in the air. "Fine. Fuck off, if that's what you want so bad. I got a knife to fucking clean."

And possibly some barfing to do, because nerves and feelings and almost death and oh god, keep that in your stomach, Sergeant, at least until you're not in the middle of bonfire central. Like hell is he doing that in front of anybody, let alone Scarlett.

He turns and stalks away rapidly.

She doesn't leave, however. She waits. Making him be the one to walk away. Expecting him to. Pushing him to and when he does she finally nods her head as if she's managed to prove something in all this. That his leaving was inevitable and she'd just helped to hasten it.

Perhaps she should feel triumphant because she'd won, hadn't she? She'd set out to prove something and gotten exactly what she wanted only the feeling that remained wasn't anything close to satisfaction.

Still she'll wait until he moves out of sight and once he's gone completely from view, she disappears.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject