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

Suit yourself.

[Duality. It's a theme that Bruce has been working at for awhile. The people closest to him are also those that have known him the longest- a list that consists almost entirely of Alfred. But Selina and Jim had come into his life with the death of his parents, Mr Fox not long after; they see, have seen, parts of him that the public could only speculate at. He has always been strange when standing beside his peers. He never pursued friendships with the people he was supposed to, his interests were always- different. With age and experience he can look at it differently now. There is no outrunning his true self- for better and worse, the things Bruce finds meaningful, the calling he feels, runs in only one direction.

Bruce Wayne has to become the mask.
And choices like this, to be seen in this way, doing these things- the details lend some much needed verisimilitude.

Instead of watching Peter's face and following the way it turns towards the ceiling, instead of continuing to stand at attention while he brushes hair back from his eyes- Bruce lifts another bottle off the shelf and turns it around, examining the label.]

But I don't think so.

[There's a casual disinterest in the phrase and its delivery. That too is a calculation. Bruce frowns, makes an expression of distaste, and puts the bottle back. Trades it for a new one that he examines with the same scrutiny.]

Maybe you weren't very memorable?

What's your name?

[ maybe you weren't very memorable. peter makes an effort to take it at face value — ostensibly, there's no reason he shouldn't. it earns a quick smile, then, one that doesn't reach his eyes — not of course, that it entirely matters as bruce is selecting, deselecting and choosing another bottle of — something. wine, peter thinks, but he doesn't look over at the label closely enough to work it out. ]

I get that a lot.

[ uttered with an easy level of amusement that implies it's true — peter parker, midtown high's only professional wallflower, might have grown out of some of the awkwardness that imbued his teenage years, grown out of some of the arrogance and the pointed disinterest in others, but he's still used to making a very certain kind of impression. one that means he's inevitably viewed as non-entity, albeit maybe a little flaky and unreliable; one that means peter parker's viewed, at least on first meeting, pretty averagely — or even negatively.

for all of that though, for as much as peter's relatively precious about keeping his identity a secret, the separation, a devoid between the two have never been something he's really cultivated. as peter parker, he is peter parker — he's earnest, and short-tempered, and he wants to help people, and he's all of those things as spider-man, too. he feels bad about lying to his friends, to may. he hates how much he burdens mj with that knowledge, with the fact that his secret is her secret, too.

(but he's also glad for it, more glad and grateful than he'll ever be able to put into words that he has her. that she puts up with him.) ]

—It's Peter.

[ he shifts his weight, turning away from bruce and leaning against the wall. in the silence, he thinks he hears a voice that says something about things being too good to be true, but it's been years since he'd heard that voice, in that context. they'd all been together, happy, for one of the last times. gwen, harry, flash, mj.

he inhales. it's a light breath, the precursor to a sigh, but instead he speaks: ]

Look, I'm not judging your choice of self-medication, all I'm asking is if it's wise given the circumstances. [ beat. ] But if you've got any aspirin...

[The response is a little unusual- not wholly strange, but instead just enough to register. People have a complicated relationship to their own significance, no one likes to be reminded of it and they're conditioned from childhood to push back against it. It's not simply natural he's found, but also somewhat universal. The desire to be seen. To be someone or do something that matters.

Let's have it Master B Alfred says, from somewhere to his left.
Bruce doesn't turn to look. He continues scanning the bottle instead, aware of the way that his companion adjusts his weight, turns off and leans against the wall. It isn't an uncomfortable silence that hangs over them but it isn't companionable either. This might be because they aren't companions, but Bruce suspects that the larger cause is his inability to cultivate them.

When his voice does break the air it's sharp, at the very last syllable of aspirin] Parker! [He says, one finger extended from the bottle he's holding; a visible lightbulb moment. And as quickly as it happens, it's over. Bruce gives the bottle a little toss so that he has it by the neck instead, and tucks it into the bag over his shoulder.] I'm not really sure it matters, [His head cants in Peter's direction, a substitute for the air quotes he doesn't make.] Given the circumstances.

Worse case scenario I pass out, right? Or throw up in a bush.
And who hasn't done that a few times?

[There's a kind of posture he's learned to adopt. He stands up straight but not to his full height, he doesn't iron out his limbs or fall into the careful, precise angles that come naturally. His shoulders roll instead, a cavalier angle. His chin lifts an inch.]

But I tell you what- if I give you some aspirin, can we skip the cautionary tale and just say you did your due diligence?

[ peter manages to be startled, just for a second, at the exclamation of parker; it's punctuated by a slight noise, one that might've been the start of a 'what?' but doesn't get as far as being totally vocalised — after all, his username on the network is his surname, so it's only a logical, natural association. there haven't been many people who've defaulted to calling him that in person though, and it's a little odd to hear it from someone approximately a decade younger than him and have it not preceded by 'mister'.

which more or less means the indistinct noise turns into a— ] —So much for not being memorable. I think I'm flattered.

[ so either they've spoken, or they've encountered each other on the network at some point. the face doesn't ring a bell and historically speaking, peter's better with faces than he is names, so— probably network. from there, there are only a handful of people peter's spoken to but hasn't openly met. peter doesn't entirely want to go through a mental checklist of possibilities for 'difficult young adult' right at this moment in time, which means—

he looks back at bruce when he says he's not sure it matters, when he repeats peter's remark. (it matters, peter thinks.) his expression flickers — doubt, followed by indecision, followed by an expression that might imply it's physically painful for him to skip the cautionary tale. (but bruce! what if, with your lowered inhibitions, you act out against your hallucinations, huh? what then?

—oh wait, you're not peter parker, that might just be a him thing.) ]

We could, but I reserve the right to say I told you so if your worst case scenario turns out to be more middling scenario.

[ truthfully, peter's antsy, which is why he talks: it reminds him, a little, of the time that fear had gripped new york. when the entire city went insane and everyone started attacking each other. there hadn't been anything to fight then, either — nothing physical, just fear itself. a sense of impending dread, and for him, that tight ball of panic in the pit of his stomach and in his chest that said he'd let carlie down, he'd let mj down — and they hadn't even been dating then! — and he'd let may down.

he hadn't slept then either. he'd almost died (did die, technically, he guesses), but he'd been able to help, at least a little.

here? what can he do?

wryly, then: ] —And I haven't, by the way. My friend [ he voice catches a little as he utters the word ] always did used to tell me I was insufferably sanctimonious in the face of the morning after.

[There's something unique about the cadence with which he speaks, the way words connect to one another and land in a very particular rhythm. This would be less strange, he thinks, if he were still on Gotham's streets- surrounded not by the upper echelon and not by the people Selina considers friends, but by the people between. There's an ease to the conversation that Bruce has never really felt himself but that he's observed in others, that he remembers from listening to boys at school talking to their friends. Two people walking home as they talk about the movie they'd just seen or telling a story about their day.

It is unique for Beacon.
Bruce has met personable, even friendly people thus far. But the reason this registers has less to do with character than it does with behavior. He'll make a new note of it, tonight. It wouldn't be a wise time to start investigating rooftops, after all.

Though he doesn't see her (he hasn't seen anyone), her voice floats over his shoulder. You remember what I said about being a douchebag?

It's very, very hard, not to look.

So Bruce stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks instead, makes a small show of rummaging through them until he pulls a small plastic strip out. Aspirin. Then hands it over. Parker's voice catches over the syllables in 'friend,' and Bruce thinks 'possibly dead, possibly lover,' without reaction.]

Well, if I get drunk enough I'll probably be too sick for your worst case scenario, right? [Bruce's hand claps down on his shoulder, an overly friendly and yet not really at all gentle pat-pat. He'd practiced it just before Penguin's auction a few years ago, when he'd made the public transition from reclusive orphan Bruce Wayne to obnoxious socialite. The smile he wears is wide and careless.]

But to be honest I never really got what people like that were trying to accomplish. You know, with the sanctimonious thing? Is it jealousy because they don't wanna live a little? Because they can't? Or is it just misery tourism?

Misery— [ peter starts, a hint of incredulity creeping into his voice, and he looks at the hand on his shoulder, eyebrows knitting together in a mixed expression of bemusement and distaste. it wasn't a gentle pat, despite the outward veneer of friendliness; he thinks, just for a second, of bennet — outwardly benevolent but terrible with names, inwardly anything but and remarkably good with names. to think he'd managed to make jonah look like a pleasant boss after everything—

he hears a PARKER! from a corner of the room and he involuntarily shudders; he'd joked once, that he didn't know how to work for a boss that didn't verbally abuse him at every turn, and whilst it wasn't true, there had always been something about their to-and-fro that peter had enjoyed. he guesses they're friends, and truthfully he's got more affection for the cantankerous old man than he'd ever be willing to verbally admit, but—

get this disease-ridden menace out of my building, robertson. I'm not going to have my employees claiming days off for sick leave—

(ugh, actually, scratch that thought.)

he sighs and eyes the strip of aspirin in his hand. if they're coated, they're fine and he's more than happy to take those without a drink to wash them down, but if they're not coated, if they're powdery — peter feels like he should be able to take them without water, but there's always that risk, that chance that one gets stuck halfway down his throat and he's going to be left with the vague taste of chalk for hours to come.

he ducks out of bruce's grip and down behind the bar, scanning the bottles for something non-alcoholic — even tonic water would do. ]

—I think someone just walked over my grave, [ he remarks, as a belated explanation for the shudder. it's punctuated by a breath of a pause, and: ] Thanks, by the way. [ aha, speaking of tonic water. peter stands back up, aspirin in one hand, water in the other. ] Jealousy. Neurotic's basically my middle name, you really think I'm able to let myself go?

[They aren't coated, they're chalk, because the supplies that arrive in Beacon make their lives easier but not that much easier. There's a moment where he's left partially on his own- as Peter visually backtracks through the space looking for something to take the tablets with. It leaves Bruce with the kind of space that his peers, especially Tommy and the others from private school, would grab hold of with both hands. More than enough time to grab a few choice bottles and bolt, to avoid the conversation and the lecture that's waiting in the wings.

What does it say about Bruce that he doesn't take the out while he can get it?
Then again, even when he'd been out with them at all hours, buying clubs and drinking his weight in champagne, waking up brutally hungover to police clearing out the manor- he'd never really fit in. He was always strange. They drank whatever he would buy and went wherever he did, but they weren't shy about reminding him either. (You're a real freak Wayne, you know that?)]

Well no offense, but it doesn't look like 'neurotic' worked out all that well for you.

[He takes another bottle off the shelf and adds it to his bag instead. Alcohol can kill bacteria but it can also damage exposed tissue; vodka he can use to disinfect equipment.]

I mean, you're here aren't you?

Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before. [ it's a dismissive reply, the verbal equivalent of a shrug — peter's not entirely sure if bruce is trying to wind him up, if he's testing where the edges to peter's patience lay. he's never been particularly good-tempered, particularly as a teenager — he'd been easy to antagonise, easy to make fun of, and he'd never really tried rectifying it until after ben, after high school. when he thinks about it — really thinks about it — there had been a reason he and flash had butted heads so many times, and it wasn't always undeserved.

it'd been an odd moment of self-reflection.

even now, he's not what he'd particularly describe as social — his group of friends is more or less the same group from college, with the odd new face from a workplace here and there — the bugle, front line, horizon labs, but he's more comfortable with all of it. more comfortable with himself.

but as for his temper? it's still there, but more often makes itself known in his humour, in sarcastic retorts less well-meaning than some might assume; he more often lets it out on patrol. it's only the really personal things that get to him; stress and worry, that make him lash out. ] But do you mean here or Beacon? Because— [ he opens the tonic water and the aspirin. two, right? that was what most people took. normally he takes more, but normally that's when he's alone, or with mj, when he doesn't have to make up an excuse for 'oh, those are just guidelines, yes I'm aware that overdosing on painkillers is ironically a very painful way to die, no, please don't worry, I'm not—'.

he pulls a face. (chalky. gross.) ] —wrong place, wrong time. Let's pretend I'm passing on sage wisdom about not spending too much nighttime alone time in Central Park. [ beat. ] And the Invincible provides food. I'm a terrible cook. [ another pause; a glance at bruce, eyebrows knitting. ] —Listen, I don't think neurotic works out well for anyone. Is there a larger point you're trying to make?

[It's hardly a lecture and that's for two reasons- the first that Bruce knows he has no business advising anyone on the subject of neurosis. He's been called paranoid more than once and knows that his habits and preferences certainly fall under that umbrella. But the second is that 'Bruce Wayne' isn't supposed to lecture at all. Bruce Wayne is supposed to be cavalier- he pokes fun at more serious personality types, he's flippant and doesn't think about the consequences of his actions. Bruce Wayne is supposed to be a spoiled, mildly annoying teenager that's more concerned with getting top shelf liquor than the big questions that determine their future.

This is precisely the reason that he makes a small performance of looking for a champagne flute, and smiles blithely when he hooks a stem through two fingers.]

A point? Not at all. I was just trying to make conversation.

But you know, maybe it's one of those signs from the universe I'm always hearing about. A little- [The flute waves carelessly in air.] change of pace. To keep things interesting.

[ just trying to make conversation, bruce says, and peter glances at him sharply. it's an odd definition of conversation, but then he is a kid. peter had hated conversation at his age, more or less. ]

The only sign from the universe I'm interested in is the one that points home. [ like monopoly? advance to go, collect $200, is the remainder of the thought, the part that he doesn't vocalise. he's not as funny out of the mask, less inclined to make a quip or irreverent remark. it all feels a little awkward as peter parker, like he's a little less equipped to pull it off. he's marginally more inclined in awkward situations, when he feels stressed or uneasy, simply because it helps to settle him. regardless, the corners of his lips twitch, like he's tempted to add the remark anyway, but doesn't quite manage it. instead— ]

A reminder not to be neurotically sanctimonious is a distant, distant second. [ beat. ] Or even third, behind 'closely scrutinised employment history', comma 'it's a long story, thanks'. [ a sidelong glance at bruce before looking away and leaning against the bar. he'd say he's never been so pleased with his spider-sense alerting him to for-real realsies threats before, but that'd be a lie: mysterio is one of his villains, after all, but it's definitely a blessing. his attention shifts to a distinctly disconcerting, disembodied hand and away again (ugh, ugh). ] And the only interesting thing is that I'm a little less interested in interesting than I was when I was your age.

[ a flicker of hesitation and peter cringes — it's an expression that says god, that was way too many variations on the word 'interest' for one sentence, and he turns the bottle of tonic water in his hand to read the ingredients. (yeesh.) ] Glad to hear some of us are having fun, though.

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