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

Not as many as you'd think. I only had three people really get upset with me. And one of them claimed I made her feel bad for being angry.

[Which is baffling. But right now, something of a relief. Dealing with angry handlers while in the middle of the hallucinations sounds exhausting. So it's gonna take her letting it off the hook with grace, this time.]

But thank you.

[ elektra just nods, then takes in their surroundings. they're not too far from anyone or any building, but it doesn't look as if there are many people venturing outside right now. she doesn't blame them, but the voices might quiet if they're around more people, at least a little. ]

We might have better luck avoiding these if we get inside. The inn's closest.

[The Soldier isn't really sure about that, but you know what, it'll absolutely take direction at the moment. And having other people around means being able to ask whether something it sees is real or not.

So it hesitates only a beat, then nods.]

There will be other people there, too.

[And once she starts moving, the Soldier will follow, a couple steps behind and to one side, so she can see it.]

That's the point. The other people might drown out the bonesaws.

[ she can't promise anything about the hands, but she hadn't seen any since the one ghosting over her shoulder, since they've been keeping up their conversation. but she does understand his concern, considering she'd almost attacked him since he was holding a knife he didn't remember getting out. ]

We can find a spot in the corner, if that makes you feel better about it.

[What a smart woman. And surprisingly kind, given the whole knife thing. The Soldier decides, dangerous or not (and she is, definitely), it's going to like her.]

It is always preferable to be able to see all the exits.

[Elektra probably understands that, honestly.]

[ elektra nods in agreement, glancing back at the soldier. it would probably amuse her to be thought of as kind, considering, but she does understand the need to seek out an escape in any given situation. they reach the inn without any incident, not so much as a whisper in her head. it's promising.

there's a table in the corner by the bar, and elektra looks back at him again before nodding towards it. the mood doesn't appear to be too lively, but so far it's loud enough to drown any errant voices out. ]

[Even the quiet noise from people upstairs in their rooms is kind of soothing. The Soldier wedges itself as close to the wall as it can get, scanning the room warily-- but is back on its feet immediately, looking startled, even panicked, as Elektra tries to sit.

Because her own chair looks like the Chair, and it can't let her sit in it. (Hey, whoah, pal, it's okay, it's not real. I don't care, I don't want to watch that!) It grabs for her wrist to pull her back to her feet, before the clamps can come down over her arms and the electricity can start.]

Not there. Don't sit there.

[ between fight and flight, elektra's instinct is always to fight, and when he grabs her wrist to prevent her from sitting down her own hand immediately covers his wrist to pull it off. she's about to protest his handling, but then she sees the look in his eyes, hears the fear in his voice, and she gets it. she's not seeing anything unusual, but he clearly is.

so she lowers her hand, slowly, watching his face, ready to move on the defensive if he becomes dangerous. she nods at him, glancing briefly to the chair she'd been about to sit down in. ]

Why not? What did you see?

[She can yank its hand off, if she wants. So long as she isn't sitting down. The Soldier's eyes are on her chair, like it might actually bite her, or reach out and bite it. It can even feel the phantom hands on its back and arms, urging it to take her place, like it's supposed to. The Soldier plants its feet, not going anywhere near that thing.]

There was a Chair. They'd put me in it before and after missions. Take my memories. I can't. I can't see that happen to anyone else. Even if it ain't real. I can't watch.

[ she doesn't yank her hand away, but she does pull it free, still carefully watching his face. once he's able to get through telling her what he'd seen (what, from the sound of things, he's still seeing), she nods, turning from it. ]

Okay. Pick somewhere where you don't see it.

[Shoulders coming down a little with relief that she's not going to be weird about it, the Soldier points to the seat at the other corner of the table.]

That one's fine.

[It eases down into its own seat again, half-expecting it to morph into the Chair too, but it doesn't. Both seated safely, it sighs, scrubs the flesh hand down its face, and says,]

Sorry.

[ she nods and settles into the pointed out seat without question, folding her arms on the table, her shoulder slumped forward and her hair falling into her face. ]

It's fine. [ she sounds weary, but it's not due to him as much as it is to the whole situation. she's exhausted, she just wants this to stop. ] Can you still see the exit?

Yeah, I'm good.

[Feeling kind of like an idiot, but the exits are covered, and no one's being electrocuted. It hesitates a moment, eyes flicking to the lingering image of the Chair, the lingering image of the creepy-ass hands moving the arm clamps and Halo around like they aren't the most dangerous things in the damn world, and asks,]

Talk? I don't care about what. Where are you from?

[ she's not seeing anything from her past, but the hands return, the same one before gliding over her shoulder and drifting across her collar bone, tightening as it reaches her neck. she visibly shudders and draws her hands up, crossing them over her chest. she tries focusing on him instead, on what he's asking her. it's something she hasn't answered in a long time, at least not honestly. ]

Cambodia. Originally. I don't really remember it.

[ the voice that whispers in her ear, soft at the edges of her mind, comes back. it's the woman this time, singing a melancholy lullaby she shouldn't recognize. ]

After that, Greece. [ she's leaving out her time with the chaste, it makes her think of stick. ] What about you? Soldat is Russian, isn't it?

I don't remember, either. I know I spent time in Russia, maybe a lot of time, before I was moved to Washington DC. Before that, I was in the army, but I don't know for sure which country. Possibly America.

[The Soldier makes a small, almost pained smile, and admits,]

I've been told sometimes I sound like I'm from Brooklyn.

[Right now, the English is a very standard middle-American non-accent. Not Brooklyn in the slightest.]

[ if elektra were more well-versed in the history of captain america, she might have a better idea of who he is, but as it is she just recognizes him from the news. ]

That's a lot of movement for an army. [ she wonders if he was a spy, if that has to do with why he's given a title instead of a name, but the chair he'd described insinuates a slate being wiped clean whenever who's in charge needs him to forget what he'd seen. spies tend to hold on to information. ] I'm not sensing an accent, but I'm less familiar with Brooklyn.

[ he might note that her own doesn't sound grecian, that it's more upper class english but difficult to pin down. she'd moved a lot, too. ]

No, not the army, that was Before. It was a group called HYDRA.

[If she's from the Soldier's own universe (which of course she is), she probably knows all about that from the news. It shrugs.]

And the Brooklyn is only sometimes. It's complicated.

[ she does, she'd done a fair amount of reading after the shield information had been leaked online. not much of it had had anything to do with her own missions, but it's still good to be apprised of history as it happens. ]

Isn't it always. [ she offers him a weary smile. ] Think anyone's tending the bar right now?

[The lack of questioning is either telling, or else she's just really, really polite. Usually people ask about HYDRA, at least about the funny name. Maybe she's heard of them?]

No, there's no one back there. I can get you something if you want.

[It gets things for Crowley all the time, it knows its way around back there. Just don't ask it to mix any drinks; that's not a skill it's learned just yet.]

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