logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: LOSE YOUR SOUL

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: LOSE YOUR SOUL

characters: everyone.
location: bonfire square, around town.
date/time: october 30-31.
content: the spirits stage a play! and then the thefts begin...
warnings: none. just mischief.

you're gonna lose your soul tonight, tonight

It's probably something you're used to by now: waking up to some new, strange thing suddenly appearing somewhere around town. This time it's a ramshackle stage sitting prominently in the center of the square. It's complete with benches and a haggard-looking red curtain, and it's clear by the amount of forest spirits milling and fussing around it that they're the ones responsible. For most of the day, the spirits seem concerned only with attracting as many people as possible, trying to herd them into the seats. But as the moon rises, the performance finally begins.

There's an awkward shuffling behind the curtain before it lifts, revealing a very crude set made of actual branches used as trees. Various pieces of junk have been shined up and stuck to the back wall to serve as the night sky. In the midst of it all stand several spirits holding very small torches taken from the Bonfire. Sticks, really, placed inside empty cans with holes punched in them and rusted wires for handles. These spirits wave their "lanterns" about for the benefit of the audience before miming the act of walking across the stage without actually going anywhere. From somewhere above them, a pair of long arms descends to shake the "trees" on either side; seems the Postmaster General wanted to lend their talents to the cause.

The protagonists of this pantomime talk amongst themselves, in the chirps, hoots, and whistles that make up their language. They motion to one another, pointing at things and conferring before finally nodding and, apparently, continuing on whatever "journey" they're supposed to be on. This goes on for a few minutes before another set of players enter the stage— or at least reveal themselves.

Perhaps a few eagle-eyed viewers have spotted them already, but the second group of spirits pops out of the set itself. One detaches itself from a "tree", one drops from the poorly-painted sky, and two more emerge from where they've been hiding behind the foliage. These spirits are holding prop lanterns, too, though theirs are shielded, giving off very little light. But their most notable feature is that they're wearing animal masks; a deer, a fox, a raccoon, and a rabbit for the tallest one. These aren't the masks that make up their faces, they're extras, seemingly tied on over their own.

As the second group jumps up, the first reacts with emphatic shock, and then a brief scuffle ensues. In the chaos, the animal-masked spirits make off with the others' lanterns, dashing away and off the stage. The original few begin to wail, to writhe, to clutch at their throats, and then, ultimately, to fall very over-dramatically to the floor. Other spirits sneak out to drag them out of view, but that isn't quite the end of the performance.

A spirit dressed in a cloak and garish feathers stomps onto the stage with a wooden beak affixed to its face. In one hand it holds a full-sized torch as it waves its fake wing-arms around and tries to squawk. Suddenly, the masked— double masked? spirits arrive again, grabbing the feathered creature, snatching the torch, and tossing the poor feathered spirit to the ground. Victorious, they hoot loudly, and then rush offstage once more. (Probably to return those torches before Rastus has a fit.)

Finally, the Postmaster General, done with their role as the entire set, unfurls a banner from the eaves. Clearly courtesy of the Librarian, it reads, in smeared black paint: BWAR FIRE SNACTHERS!!! with two X-ed out bonfires on either side.

And... that's it, apparently. The forest spirits all gather back on stage to bow before starting to dismantle the set. But their strange cautionary tale isn't over, oh no. It's time for a more personal demonstration. They've got to send home the message. Literally.

Throughout the night and the following day, things start to go missing. Perhaps even out of their owner's hands. Chase the spirits down for your stuff, hold someone else's things for ransom, or just break down and cry in your room because life is unfair— the choice is yours! Just let this be a reminder to heed what the spirits said: beware the Fire Snatchers.

Whatever those are.

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I. The Play and After - Oct 30

Spirits waving and nudging and pulling at arms does get the Soldier to bring its patrol to a slightly earlier end than usual. It might actually a little funny, watching the pair that have focused on it try to find the perfect place for the Soldier to sit, and the Soldier itself indulgently letting them herd it around the audience space, sitting in one place and then having to get up and sit somewhere else. The Soldier personally thinks it's kind of cute, and if the spirits think this... whatever it is... is important, then it'll pay attention.

Once seated, the Soldier taps a knife blade almost idly on the metal arm, but anyone who knows Morse Code could translate the questions it's asking, and possibly the short but friendly-seeming responses coming out of the spirits in measured whistles and hoots.

The play gets the Soldier's full attention, or as full as anything ever really gets out of it around the hypervigilance, and afterwards there's more Morse arm-tapping with questions-- and thanks, because the Soldier is a polite murder machine. Anyone curious what's going on will get a full translation into their language of choice (or English, in the case it doesn't know their language), of course.

II. The Thieving, Oct 30 - 31

The spirits are not quite so polite. Starting as the Soldier gets up at last from its attempt at getting answers, before it can put its knife away, one of the spirits comes and snatches it away. With a startled curse, the Soldier bolts after it, to no avail.

It's the start of a day and a half (24-hour period, whatever, it's a fucking day) of chasing spirits because they keep taking its fucking knives. Betrayal. It's nothing short of betrayal, because the Soldier likes the spirits, and this is awful. It's a little more alarming when one of them runs off with an actual grenade, which the Soldier doesn't actually carry around with it but which a little porcupine-looking thing snuck into the actual house and carried away laughing. That is not something the Soldier wants getting played with.

The Soldier doesn't quite hit despair until its tablet with its music on it disappears, and at that point it gives up on trying to chase them. It just sits on the porch of Aziraphale and Crowley's house and looks grumpy for a while.

III. The Return - Nov 1

Going on patrol weaponless feels like the next thing to pointless, but what else is the Soldier even going to do? There's no music, the spirits are taking it's shit, and other people are grumpy about things being stolen, too, so attempts at being social would just go badly. So walking the perimeter is what's left, even if it has no knives and one gun and two grenades left and so is hardly armed at all.

That does mean the Soldier sees the collection of items in the church early on, though, and again cuts the patrol short to start diving in and trying to rebuild its collection of knives, and find which of the several tablets actually belongs to it.

This actually improves the Soldier's mood considerably, including its opinion of the spirits. They gave the stuff back. That makes it okay.

Edited 2019-10-31 04:35 (UTC)

Javert, on the other hand, has been going double patrols in order to keep a lookout for anything that may be stolen. It's put him in a tremendously good mood, though no one but his close acquaintances would be able to tell the difference. He's still scowling, still lurking, but there's an air of self-satisfaction in his gait now. And, as the Soldier is soon to learn, his sense of humor has returned in full force.

For you see, over the past couple of days, Javert has amassed quite the collection of knives. There are twelve in total, and each one that he finds brings an increasing be-wilderness. How could one man carry so many knives, and how could they all be stolen from him? He finds them tossed about all across town — hidden in pots, under bushes, wedged in doors. He knows the owner of them, of course he does. And when he hears of the stolen goods being returned to the church, Javert thinks it's time to search him out.

He approaches the man digging through the collection, looking as imposing as ever with his hat drawn low over his face and his collar popped up to hide the rest. His hands are hidden in his pockets, and when he pulls them out, there's a knife in one. The Soldier's knife. Javert cannot help but smirk, offering the blade out to him and quipping,

"Is this what you are looking for?"

That's a familiar tread-- additionally self-satisfied or not, the bootsteps don't change that much. By the time Javert is halfway across the church, the Soldier has straightened up and turned to face him, patient and expectant, albeit internally itching to get back to its search. It feels so damn naked without any knives. A single gun really, really isn't enough.

At least Javert's posture and expression is... positive. For Javert. The Inspector is pleased about something, which could mean trouble. Though this particular handler has never been dangerous when pleased, there's always a first.

The smirk is baffling, makes the Soldier wary, until the knife comes out.

It does not snatch the knife. It wants to snatch it. Its iron control slips enough that both hands twitch slightly and the plates in the metal arm buzz with want. "Shit. Yes. Where did you find that?"

Edited 2019-11-02 00:56 (UTC)

"In the library." It's the first time Javert's been inside for quite some time. Despite his profession as a police officer, and the fact that it is his only hobby, Javert has never cared for reading. He only does it out of necessity, and because of that, he has steered clear of library more than any other building.

"How many would you say you have lost?" He doesn't hand the knife over, not yet. He just wants to give the Soldier some time to sweat, first.

The Soldier holds very still, now. Is it going to get punished for losing its weaponry? It probably should be, it was so stupid. Even after getting a handful back from Noctis, the spirits had just redoubled their efforts. Stupid spirits. Stupid Soldier, too.

It takes a breath, and admits, "All of them. I have twelve. Had twelve. Also two of my guns and one grenade. But those are here." Thank fuck for that. The thought of losing one of only three grenades to a random explosion in the woods had been painful.

Javert makes a considering noise, setting the blade down on one of the tables before reaching into his coat and saying, "It seems I have counted correctly, then."

And then he draws out the remaining eleven knives, one by one, setting them on top of the table in a slow, dramatic fashion. Each pocket seems to house at least one, and some of them come from the inside of his sleeves. Once they are all laid out before him, Javert quirks a brow and wonders,

"How on earth did they manage to steal so many from you?"

The Soldier stares a little as the first couple come out. Breaks into a hesitant, surprised, but very real smile at the next few. By the last one, it's actually laughing weakly. It is a day of firsts for you, Javert. You made the Soldier laugh.

"Jesus. Bad luck, mostly. And determination. And being wily little fucks that even I can't hear coming, sometimes." Whoops, language. It starts collecting its knives and tucking them away as neatly and completely as Javert had produced them-- since apparently the "punishment" was dealing with Javert being dramatic. That is the best punishment in the world, okay. Its handler has a ridiculous dramatic streak, and that has endeared him to the Soldier so much, now.

Some have to go in its pockets rather than various sheaths, because it does not actually have that many sheaths on its person, to add to its emergency stashes around the house and at Misty's. But still. So many knives.

His laughter is a bit disorienting, considering how reserved the other man usually is around him. But if Javert is being honest — and he always is —it's not entirely unwelcome. He watches him stow away his knives, and hides his face a little further into his collar. His voice is muffled by the wool as he hums,

"That is disconcerting."

He's not going to mention that he, too, had something stolen from him. That is not something the Soldier needs to know, especially when it has long since been retrieved. Instead, he asks, "It is your habit to carry so many weapons?"

"Not all at once," the Soldier allows, sliding the biggest knife-- almost as long as his forearm, recently gained from the armory because it couldn't not top off its blade supply when faced with that place for the first time-- at home in an actual sheath at its thigh. That one isn't a spare but part of its standard setup, it's actually pretty attached to it already. Has a nice weight to it. "Usually just one or two guns and five knives. But I have to take them home somehow." That's... still a lot of weapons, Soldier.

How many knives are too many? Not five, apparently, but twelve. Javert doesn't make any sort of expression, but the thought brings him amusement. Once he's finished stowing away his weapons, he asks,

"Is this a personal preference, or are you simply preparing for the unlikely event of someone disarming you?" He's assuming this incident with the forest spirits is an anomaly.

Uh. Well. The Soldier hesitates, but the unattractive truth pops out in the end. "I don't feel safe without being fully armed." It doesn't feel safe even then, but it feels safeer. "It's what I would be kitted out with on missions. Less than for missions. Usually that was four guns and seven knives and backup with larger weapons on hand."

He considers this a moment and then nods. "I understand."

The inspector himself can hardly fathom going anywhere without his club, modest a weapon as it is. Javert doesn't harm unless he absolutely must, but it's a comfort to have it with.

"I may have offered them back to you sooner, had I known."

The Soldier shrugs, tucking the last weapon away. "Then I would have missed your very dramatic return." It tilts its head, as if considering, then says firmly, "Worth it."

Bucky/Soldat | OTA

nov 1

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Thieving;

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1/2

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