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

[originallutece]

[It takes everything in her not to flinch from that touch, but she'd never forgive herself if she did. Instead: she pauses for only a moment, swallowing tightly, before gripping his hand and rising.]

That wasn't an answer.

[But if it's a spirit, it's unlike any she's ever seen.]

But I think it a foolish idea indeed to wander about in a mask if you aren't one. You may not be so fast next time.

[It's not a threat. Just a warning.]

[pearlstrings]

[It speaks tremendously to her character that despite the expression she wears and the tension corded in her body, despite the unknown and the adrenaline in her veins, she reaches back for his hand. How much of this is habit for her? How many times has she made a decision like this- to continue on where others fear to tread? Where she fears to tread.

His gaze is heavy on her face and Bruce is aware of how firm her grip is in return, the pitch of her voice. How precisely she watches him.

How far would she go, for the right motivation?

Bruce takes a step backwards and in the process, reaches not just for the grappling gun at his back, but for a small pellet along his belt. He doesn't know her very well and hasn't known her for very long, but he suspects that her tenacity rivals his own. He can't presume that she wouldn't follow him. His voice is strange- too old, almost animalistic for the gravel in it.]

Thanks for the advice.

[The pellet drops and Bruce crushes it with his heel, causing smoke to erupt around them. It's theatricality more than anything else- a diversion, as he fires into the treeline and vanishes into the dark.]

[originallutece]

[She tries to follow, of course. Still shuddering in terror, she races forward, but he's too quick for her. She's only the vague impression of movement in the air, and she stands beneath the place where he'd stood, glaring up at the sky.

This isn't the last they've seen of each other. She's determined.]