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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I definitely wouldn't think it's Robin, up to this.

[She's a great deal more trusting of her than Beacon at large seems to be, but from at least a practical standpoint Misty feels confident presuming nobody stands to gain anything from these...distractions. At least no person. At the question, there's a twitching flicker of a smile.]

Nothing pleasant, is about all I can say. Little nerve wracking to stare at anybody too long. Too...open.

You've gotten to know her?

[He doesn't know what to think of that, if it's foolish or wise. He can see the argument for both. As he didn't even bother to learn the woman's name, it was probably better that Misty took the time to get to know her. They'd at least understand for certain what she was and who she was.]

So that means it might be the nature of this world. It could be punishment for all we've done.

Wouldn't say we're bosom friends, but she's...I don't know. It's a terrible viewpoint, but one that isn't...foreign, to me.

[As delicately as she can word it, anyway. Unpopular a figure as she is, Misty's not fool enough to claim any fondness or familiarity so publicly lest it feed a rash conclusion. But she understands, she thinks, at least in part.]

You done anything worth half this trouble? [Asked with doubt, but not necessarily sarcasm. He hardly strikes her as the type.] I've seen places meant to do that, and I don't think this is quite it.

Then what should I know about her, if she's someone who gets cast in a bad light?

[He knows unpopular figures and he's willing to keep an open mind, if only to better understand this place. Misty had a better perspective, as most of his information about the woman was simply fleeting information received when he arrived.]

There are things I regret. [Which means maybe, but he feels he's earned it.] What makes this place different than those?

Doesn't sound like she's got any more choice than us, is all. I think if you shut someone up in a room and tell them the only options are wiping a slate clean for another shot or losing everything, permanently, it seems...unfair to hold them to a different standard. Everyone's stuck, and I think the weird things she gets up to are things she does for a reason.

['Withholding information' seems to her an almost hysterically unimportant, nagging complaint. It wastes the fresh perspective of another run. She shrugs, almost too contemplative to be idle.] Being isolated does things to a person.

But this place is...working toward some kind of goal, with a hard ending if we don't manage. Places that you're meant to pay are the opposite. They pin you in one spot, pick one consistent thing, and just keep needling, forever. [Voice of experience.] Bad place, but not hellish.

[She makes a good point, one that he hadn't considered before. He had only thought of her as malicious or enjoying this as a game, but if she were a prisoner here as well, it wouldn't make her any different from them.]

I thought she had magic? It's not enough to leave, if she wanted to?

[It seemed like a stupid question. If she had the ability to wipe the slate clean, why not something else? But apparently there were limits on her magic.]

You speak from experience?

[The places she describe were enough to make his chest tighten, dread filling him at what he might see in such a situation.]

I wonder what our goal is here. So far, it just seems to be survival.

Don't know. She has some sway over some spirits, but not as much as would really do her any good. I think it's just her and the kill switch, which is...Not a position anybody wants.

[To witness that death, constantly, and know it was her hand - forced or no - that made it happen. Robin's been living in conditions alarmingly similar to Misty's own Hell, on a grander scale, and it makes sympathizing a great deal easier.

His question gives pause. Carefully weighing how much need be said, and if she wants to say anything at all. Reluctantly, her head dips in a nod.] Plenty.

To fix the place, I'd have to assume. It might have been normal once.

There are some would enjoy having that sort of power at their disposal. Better that it be someone who doesn't want it. We have less reason to worry about her suddenly removing us if we do something to annoy her.

[Which was possible. He only needed to think of the Mad King to know how others were willing to exert whatever power they had at their fingertips. This wasn't fire though and this meant more than simply losing their lives, it was their after lives as well that would be gone. The rare thing he never imagined they would receive.]

Fix it? By removing the spirits, you think?

Exactly.

[Fearing Robin seems deeply counterproductive. Swinging too hard in the opposite direction presents just as much potential for missteps, but perhaps less grievous ones. She's one of them, however vocally any might protest that. A forced seat of power does not willing cruelty make.]

I'm...not sure, actually. It would depend who was here first - no reason to believe yet it isn't their world and we're the ones intruding.

I'd like to think it's fire. That things don't burn here doesn't...work, by any standard. Life needs fire. [And how bitterly, uncomfortably needling it is to say that aloud.]

If this is the afterlife that we are sent to, wouldn't our being here be no different than their being here? [But he was still of the opinion that all of this was wrong. What she suggested only further enforced that. Perhaps somehow, they were brought here, for some reason, to a place that wasn't their own.] Given their response, it's possible that this was theirs or they mean to make it theirs.

[Fire. He hated the reminder of it, if only for the words Melisandre often said about it and what it required for her to wield her magic.]

Fire is life and light, apparently. [He did hear the tone of her voice, his own matching hers.] You're not fond of fire either?

It might if it's something unintentional, just shuttling us off to their little ecosystem. Whatever the cause they sure seem more equipped than us, and that's got to count for something. Maybe better they keep it.

[It's a bitter enough topic there's no mistaking the careful, twitching incline of her lips for anything sincere.]

I can't say it's been kind to me. Double edged sword. Consumes as much as anything else.

EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

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