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

[moderatelymaladjusted]

But also, noseless. [Quentin points out, like that the most important part of that and not the fact that Voldemort murdered countless of fictional people, tortured people and was a general asshole for no reason through most of the story.

Eliot sounds as strained as Quentin feels, voice tight and back straight like it hurts not to.]

Okay, I wield. Lucius was an asshole, too. Maybe just stay away from that whole family all together? They were all assholes.

[Casting around for something else, something light and nonthreatening, something that doesn't have the gut-punch kind of feeling to it-]

But yeah-- uh, Quidditch. Because-- because of. All the ball hitting? Welters just doesn't have the same-- uh, the same ring to it and-- and flying? Oh! [It's not quite a flush, but it's closer to embarrassment than terror.] You read that? I--uh, yeah, well? I already told you, I like your dick.

[itselbitch]

Are you kidding me? I would love to ruin Draco's day His reactions would be priceless.

[ in case quentin forgot for a second that his best friend is a dramatic mean girl.

it's always precious how quentin sometimes just has a time delay though, a thought processing in the back of his mind while the nerdy half strings words that would make a normal person dizzy just to think about. quintessential quentin. it's comforting to know things haven't changed.

eliot squeezes his hand gently. ]

Right, but my dick wasn't even the one that was out in that scene.

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[Counting steps, because maybe that's going to make it easier to get from here to there. Not looking up at any of the voice, not reacting to the hands. Just, one slow breath after the other, one foot in front of the other and eventually they had to get there. Had to get to the wooden door and the dark cabin.

Quentin swallows hard, eyebrow raised.]

You mean, all yelling and threats and being an asshole? Yeah, I can see the funny part of that.

[Stay, stay, stay and his palms are sweaty with dread, clinging to Eliot's through the walk.] Your dick kind of was, though? I mean, it-- uh, someone named like you was giving one, and that made me think about your dick. I told you, a lot of things do.