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

[policier]

No.

( He doesn't understand how it could, but that isn't any fault of Rosalind's. Javert's just too ill-equipped to deal with his feelings, after not having acknowledged them for so long. He makes a dismissive noise, something between a grunt and a huff before saying, )

The voices have ceased, but it is only a short reprieve. Tell me, are there any other visions that you've experienced?

[originallutece]

[She huffs softly, an acknowledgement of wry amusement.]

Robert, of course.

[But little surprise there. Rosalind shifts, curling up a bit into herself.]

But I expected no less. His specter haunts me regardless.

Yourself?

[policier]

( His lips curl into an irritated scowl. )

Besides the hands? It is the same man that always haunts me.

( The first time Javert saw him was perhaps the most terrified he's ever felt since coming to Beacon. He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, and without even really thinking about it, he asks, )

They appear so real, don't they?

[originallutece]

Yes. I feel as though I could touch him.

[But she can't, of course-- because she's tried, of course, and she wishes she hadn't, but she couldn't live with herself if she hadn't.]

. . . do you miss him?

[policier]

( Perhaps that is just another layer of the torment. Javert had no such compulsion, partly because he knew it wasn't real, but also because he was afraid of what would happen if it was. The question catches him off guard, and Javert gives a start. Does he miss Valjean? It is impossible to even fathom. )

I don't know.

( He says, and it's the truth. He's not certain what his feelings are anymore, and he doesn't wish to examine them too closely. )

We've encountered each other so many times across the years, it almost seems inevitable we'd find each other. But he is better off not here. As is Robert.

( Good people like them don't deserve this. Javert may not be certain of much these days, but he is, at the very least, certain of that. )

[originallutece]

Yes.

[And yet still, selfishly, she longs for him. It's not a logical thought; it's not even one she'd truly want to pass, not if their ultimate fate is another death and a helping of terror with it. But Rosalind misses her Robert. It's as simple as that.]

. . . let's to bed, Inspector. I think that may be enough self-reflection for the night.

[policier]

( He makes a noise, something between a grunt and a hum. He will go to bed, but he doesn't imagine he will sleep very well, not after being reminded of so many of his failures. )

We shall see.

( He grumbles, standing up from the couch and looking across at her. )

Good night, madame.