EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

[inthenightmods]

EVENT LOG:
ENTER MR. SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

characters: those who signed up as defenders for the event
location: all around Beacon
date/time: november 16-29
content: the defenders attempt to drive off a spirit invasion
warnings: lots of horror! body horror, psychological horror, gore, violence, etc.. please cw all threads where appropriate! mods will do the same

in your closet, in your head.

It all happens in a matter of moments. Your friends, your companions, and even some people you aren't all that fond of; everyone who took so much as a bite of the spirits' feast suddenly collapses into a comatose heap. Which is bad enough already, but the worst, by far, is yet to come.

Before anyone can really figure out what's happened to the sleepers, the woods surrounding the town come alive with sound. Rustling, screeching, clicking, howling, and under it all, the characteristic hoots and whistles of the forest spirit tongue. But these aren't the friendly creatures that set up the banquet in the first place, and they aren't the familiar faces (or masks) from around Beacon. As they begin to emerge, bursting forth from the trees, these spirits reveal themselves as a horrifying army of terrors. And sprinkled among them, distinguishable by the emerald glint in their sockets, are the infamous "green eyes", the dangerous spirits that appeared once before.

Attempting to talk to these spirits is a moot point, made obvious by their immediate assault on anyone they get close to. They attack with claws and teeth, with limbs far stronger than they have any right to be, and the green eyes, as they are wont to do, will try to get into your head. Somehow, they seem to know what it is that scares you most, and they don't seem too hesitant to use it. It's not clear what they want— are they here to eradicate you? To frighten you? To send a message?

Whatever the case, one thing is very clear: you and everyone else, sleeping or waking, are in serious danger. Are you ready to defend Beacon?

QUICKNAV
comms	|	network • logs • memes • ooc
pages	|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Comments

Riku | ota | will add warnings if it comes up.

[equinoctials]

i. pre-event

It's not long after M.K.'s plea to the network about Riku's whereabouts that he returns to Beacon, without introduction or excuse. Riku just leaves wherever he'd holed himself up, most of his bruises faded except for the worst ones, and those are just discolored crescents lurking under his skin, around the inner edges of his eye sockets. He goes about his business like nothing ever changed, like he doesn't fully grasp or appreciate that it's been about three weeks since the hallucinations sent him chasing after ghosts.

He's misplaced a few things, his tablet for one, but it's the other thing he's more keen to find, a small charm given to him by a friend Sora had to bury. The search carries him far and wide through every inch of Beacon and he stops only rarely. He finds a jacket in the general store that's a little too big on him, but at least it gives him satisfactory range of movement for his arms.

Riku discovers what's already been found, later on, a scrapyard and a shop of bikes, and it isn't long before he gets himself more than a little greasy getting one of them in more than merely working order. These parts aren't Gummi blocks, which makes them less mutable and adaptable by far, but a lot of the basic principles are the same. With no actual place to call home, he spends some time here reading the maintenance manual.

Since Riku's missing his tablet, he doesn't check the network, nor does he make any effort to announce his return (after all, it doesn't feel to him like he's been gone long at all, thanks perpetual darkness and the erosion of the perception of time). It's very likely some people's first encounter might take place whenever he's passing through Bonfire square or stopping at the Invincible to get something to eat.

ii. immediate response

There's a few reasons Riku doesn't eat at the feast and none of them have anything to do with the spirits who put it together. It's just a very particular mood has struck and that meant he wasn't really interested in the emotional investment involved in participating in a party. Neither was he interested in divesting himself of all social interaction, so he chose to find a place to sit and think some distance from the festivities, against the same fence that his electric bike is parked beside, a sheathed broadsword leaning against its seat.

It's worth noting that Riku didn't used to go around visibly armed, save for those rare moments when he might have been seen by particular people with his keyblade.

Which, incidentally, means that when the conversation abruptly dies down and instead turns into the occasional slump of a body falling from a chair or into the tables, the crash of a dropped glass or plate, Riku looks around.

And when that silence gives way to the din erupting from the surrounding forest, Riku surges to his feet and sprints back towards where the feast had been taking place. At the sight of all those prone and collapsed bodies, Riku at once wonders if the food wasn't poisoned or drugged. He reaches for the shoulder of the nearest sleeper and shakes them, calling out to no avail; nothing seems to reach them.

Backing away, Riku starts to retreat towards the bike - and the broadsword he left with it - taking note of who hasn't collapsed. The air reeks, he can't read exactly what this darkness entails, but he knows it's strong and that it implies danger. The unconscious are vulnerable like this. They have to do something.

"Grab someone and get to safety!" he calls, finally pulling the broadsword from its sheath and hefting it, blade pointing outward, parallel to his shoulder, his opposite outstretched arm. The weapon's considerable weight besides, Riku appears to hold it steady in the other.

"Anyone who can - cover them!"

iii. so about that anti-gravity... (locked to Rosalind Lutece)

There's grease on his cheek where he swiped sweat off with his knuckles, he's dirty to his elbows, too, his v-neck shirt is smudged with oil. In a corner with his broadsword and his discarded jacket, a torch burns. Riku grunts as he wrests the part where Rosalind instructs.

Looking at it now, it just seems like an overturned table with all its legs lopped off and various machinery cobbled together against its underside. Some of it he already recognizes as pieces he had helped Rosalind assemble in her laboratory over a month ago. His faith in her abilities... perhaps Riku could call it faith when he doesn't have a ton of evidence to go by, as far as anti-gravity inventions go.

But they're short on options, and there's no way Riku can carry a bunch of unconscious people to safety with miles to go and a forest thick with angry, green-eyed spirits. It's hard to concentrate, when every stray sound, every distant howl or the snap of a branch makes tension go taut through every line in him, every fiber ready to fight on a moment's notice.

"What's next?"

iv. armory defense
4a. Getting There (open to one other defender)

The transport was as ready as it could be under the circumstances. Riku insisted on using it first - a trial run, he could have said, but Rosalind probably knew his intentions were more selfish. He had a sizable friend too heavy to carry the distance to the armory, and a few others to secure besides. It made him too uncomfortable to have them all piled up in one place, even if the Invincible had so many defenders.

He didn't doubt their resolve. What he fears is a disaster that robs from them everyone in one sweep of the board, everything in the wake of the fateful Lighthouse mission all over again, a long list of the fallen or lost, their lanterns or their corpses never found. He believes in their abilities and drive to survive, but Riku didn't want all their eggs in a single basket.

Daylight was loaded first, face-down, his winglets and other jagged protrusions protected by his hooded cover over one, his new jacket over another, a blanket. The others - Wanda, who had once cooked for them, when it was him and Dawn and Sora and Kairi all together, the last time he could see all of their faces without turning his head. Coraline, who someone, meaning well, had erroneously placed a sheet over her face, thinking her dead when he could smell the cosmic darkness radiating its own sign of life.

He tucked them into the cradle of Day's arms.

Perhaps he would have time later to come back for others. Once he's secured them to the transport, he climbs onto the bike it's connected to, and looks back over his shoulder, "It'll be dangerous. You still in?"

4b. A gasp between battles (open to all visiting the armory)

Those attempting to visit or find shelter at the Armory may be disappointed if they find Riku isn't there, because he's removed any torches from the area immediately surrounding it and moved them inside. In addition, he barred the door from the inside. Anyone reckless enough to try busting down the door to charge in risks skewering themselves on the barricades he build up just within, bristling with spears and polearms and swords, whatever he could pull from the walls.

Further inside, even the inner door leading down to the target range has been similarly fortified and barricaded. And then, within an enclosed space where the cement floor was made marginally less unkind by blankets, are those dreamers Riku tried to hide away. What supplies are here are meager - a rudimentary first aid kit, a roll of gauze, some disinfected rags, a few canteens and a large thermos full of water, some canned food. Enough for a few people to make it through a very unpleasant week if they were extremely disciplined and willing to tolerate a grumbling stomach.

Riku is hoping they won't need to.

Those who happen to visit while he's in may have as hard a time convincing him to let them inside. It's hard to trust your senses, your memories when there are spirits out there willing to turn them against you. And should there be an attack on the armory itself? They'll find a tenacious opponent unwilling to give ground who could nevertheless use some help.

pre-event

[mind_blown]

[ the noise is what draws him-- maintaining a bike makes noise that doesn't belong there. And it interests Jason-- in the same way he'd been originally drawn to Dick's treehouse. It interested him. There's a sense of wariness over what could make the noise, but also... well, this whole thing was a horror movie come to life anyway. and he probably would've ignored the basic horror rules in any case.

he looks around the wall, and sees the flash of light, implying this was a person. or one of the settlers like him. and so he relaxes, and approaches a little more casually, allowing his footsteps to make some noise. ]

So, you're back.

[equinoctials]

[ It's not easy to work by lantern light, but so much time spent in the dark has made Riku tolerate it. Trying to read by it for too long can make his head ache, maybe that's why he tended to sit near another while he read. The proximity of two lanterns threw better light than one.

Riku looks up at the sound and, once determining it's another resident of Beacon, he glances back down - long enough to put down his tool and wipe his hands on a rag. He says you're back and he isn't someone Riku knows well enough to think that his time away should mean anything, should be noticed. That's why he glances again at Jason, a little confused. ]

Yeah. What's up?

[ It's a neutral enough response, as Riku tries to decide if there's some deeper meaning behind his observation or just a casual lead-in to a request, like he was looking for Riku for something in particular. ]

[mind_blown]

Your friend posted about your absence on the network. And Bruce got in his own way by responding at all.

[ he answers the question he knows wasn't asked. he just wanted to get a real idea of why. He trusts Bruce did it for a good reason-- but also... that entire conversation getting posted the way it did probably didn't help. This was something only Riku could fix, probably. ]

And I'm guessing you still haven't found your tablet.

[ he folds his arms over his chest, and leans against the wall. casual. he's silently appraising. ]

[equinoctials]

[ There's plenty that can be said in a look. Riku stares at him for a moment without any sign of realization. His teal eyes drop thoughtfully, and he turns back to wiping clean his hands in a kind of feigned nonchalance. He obviously has no idea who might have posted anything. Daylight? He was a worrier, sure, but Riku doesn't believe he's been gone nearly long enough to warrant that.

The others likely had too much on their hands to notice. He had no roommates. He had some routines that involved people, like the time he'd spend in M.K.'s company as he transcribed the month's logbook entries to the network. But M.K. couldn't read, let alone network-savvy enough to bother. ]

I haven't. What do you mean, Bruce got in his own way by responding?

[ That could imply anything, it could imply What's Bruce got to do with anything? and maybe he's even banking on it. Not to pull anything over on Jason, but to prompt a little more information. He rues moments like this and his own neglect of the network. It always felt like a chore, that tablet. An essential one. ]

4b

[survivaltricks]

[truthfully, Akira could likely hold his own in a battle with just his Personas. but part of him feels. . . almost naked to not have a dagger at his side, after fighting with one for so long back home. there's something comforting about being able to run his fingers across the handle of a blade, knowing that it's there and he can draw it in an instant if needed]

[and that's why he makes his way to the armory (after making sure someone else is patrolling the Invincible, of course). to find himself a proper combat dagger to replace the model one he had brought with him to Beacon]

[he isn't surprised to see the building fortified when he gets there, and Akira isn't stupid enough to barge through a blocked door that needs to stay blocked. and so he winds up pounding on it with one fist, calling to whomever is locked inside]

Hey! Is anyone in there?!

[equinoctials]

[ Riku, too, feels less vulnerable with a weapon in his hand. It's a little unfair that he's seized control over the armory. Part of him hopes that others had prepared ahead of time - had gathered weapons they needed shortly after the armory's discovery - it would make defending it easier if there were fewer visitors to draw attention or to separate friend from foe.

At the pounding on the door, Riku flattens himself against it on the other side, presses his cheek against the sturdy barrier and inhales. He doesn't recognize the scent or the voice. Maybe that's a good thing.

Is it better that this is a stranger, and not someone Riku wants to see? Certainly, it means Riku can more readily trust that his visitor isn't one of the green-eyed spirits' hallucinations. ]

Who is it?

[survivaltricks]

[aha. so there is someone locked inside. good, Akira thinks. he'd hate to see what might happen if the spirits got their hands on a ton of weapons]

Kurusu!

[he calls back, but knowing how new of an arrival he was, he didn't expect the mysterious armory resident to recognize it]

Akira Kurusu. I just got here on the last ferry. If you don't want to let me in, I'd understand.

[but boy he really wants a knife]

[equinoctials]

[ A name he doesn't recognize. Even better.

He considers. It seems like he's alone. If he isn't, if there's an ambush waiting, he'll deal with it then. Things aren't so dire that they've started turning against each other, or they'd have bigger problems than their immediate survival.

They'd be facing a reset.

From the other side of the door, there's a muted scrape of metal, a latch thrown, and the door opens partially. ]

...Get in quickly. Did anything follow you?

[originallutece]

We charge it.

[She says it grimly. She wouldn't have done this so quickly, but needs must. Right now she's already had one run-in with those creatures, as evidenced by a bloody bandage tied around the length of her arm; she isn't aiming for another.

Striding over to the lab, she nods to him.]

When I say go, plug that in. I'll flip the switch at the same time. If all goes as planned . . . we ought to have a suspended cart within fifteen minutes. Ready?

[God, she hopes this works. She really does. God knows how else they'll transport bodies if not, and it seems inevitable they will have to transport the bloody things, so.]

[equinoctials]

Yes, ma'am.

[ He says it dryly, he usually does. The difference here is that they're both too serious about getting this thing to work to have much room for the occasional tit for tat. Riku has, as is normal for these endeavors, been doing the heavy lifting, but especially so when considering her injury.

Riku steps around the inert transport, snatching up his lantern as he moves. The light has been less than ideal, but neither of them are particularly keen on drawing attention. They keep noise, chatter, and light to a minimum, and hope for the best.

He follows the cable to its plug, crouching there. Riku looks over at her, his lantern throwing a warped shadow of his profile against the wall. His hair has gotten longer, parts of it have grown past his jawline to dust at his collar. If they survive this, in another few months it might even warrant a hair tie.

As he stares at her, Riku nods, ready. ]

[originallutece]

[There. A breath, a switch, and then--

She feels it in her teeth first, oddly enough. That surge of power, vibrating on a frequency that leaves her ears ringing and her teeth buzzing . . . it fills the laboratory, and Rosalind smiles grimly. Something in the machine surges, crackles, and she straightens up.]

Fifteen minutes. It has to go through all the atoms within the structure and suspend them individually, one by one.

[So fifteen minutes is pretty speedy, all things considering. But while her science is efficient, it is also loud, and she throws a worried glance at the door as the thrumming grows louder.]

. . . grab that tripwire. String it over the doorframe. We're going to set up defenses.

[equinoctials]

[ Riku becomes more alert, like he's the one energized, but it's only because he hears and feels the hum and comes to a similar conclusion as Rosalind does, at around the same time: this is definitely going to draw someone's attention. He leaves his lantern in the corner. Not the best place, but better than where it might be carelessly tipped over, struck, or stepped on.

He instead scans the room for the tripwire and sets to the task, snatching the broadsword he left leaning against the wall as he backs away, sweeping over the lab with his eyes. The windows aren't large here, and that's good, but it still feels too exposed.

They could hide if it came to that, as a last resort. He'd rather not expose Rosalind carelessly to the Darkness... if something gets through, could they really call it careless if it's what helps them survive? He starts towards a window, pulling closed any shade or shutter, testing the latch. ]

Is there a closet? If something gets in, go there.

4a

[techtype]

"You should see the stuff me and my buddies manage to get into."

Not that he likes those situations, and he doesn't like this one either, but he can't do much about it. And while he can choose to stay in the Invincible right now, he also wants to have access to weapons and Riku happens to be going that way.

"I'm used to it."

Besides, he's done pretty well so far, with a heavily scraped (and hastily wrapped) arm and a few claw marks on his face and neck.

[equinoctials]

It's cold and Riku isn't dressed for the weather in his waders, gloved bracers and v-neck shirt, there's a shiver on his exhale and it plumes in the air. That can't be helped when he was absolutely adamant that Daylight's winglets be protected by his newly acquired jacket and the sleeveless, hooded one he usually wears over his shirt.

Once they get moving, it'll be even colder. That's probably why he pats the portion of the bike seat behind him, completely serious. It's not all bad, Prompto - at least you have a meat shield, and room to aim if it comes to that, except... oops. Ammunition is a tough thing to come by, isn't it?

At least Riku took the time to exchange names - or at least gave his own.

"Tell me about it when this is over."

When? There are no guarantees they'll make it at all, with half of them dropped like flies and completely vulnerable, but it's a hope he chooses to stubbornly cling to, "I've got a first aid kit under the seat. Least I can do is look at your injuries when we get to the place. Help me look out for trouble."

[techtype]

Normally, Prompto might crack a joke about Riku's terrible choice of clothing, but he can't really say anything himself, as he's wearing a t-shirt, with his jacket tied around his waist. There had been a scarf somewhere in the ensemble, but he'd lost it somewhere between the feast and here, and wasn't about to try to go retrieve it.

"Definitely. Pictures, too."

Definitely when, too. They'll make it through this in some way or another, banged and scratched up more than they'd like, but...yeah. He climbs onto the seat offered, pulling his gun out and quickly checking to make sure he's still got the 8 bullets he thought were in there. He can reload them a couple times a day, but he doesn't know this yet, and so will use them sparingly.

"Thanks...let's get there first. I'll try to keep the baddies away and lemme know if you need something to keep your arms from freezing off." He'll totally give up his jacket, but if it comes to that, he's also super hoping that Noctis forgot to remove the camping supplies from their trip from the armiger storage, since there should be at least one blanket in there.

UM YOU KNOW THE ONE

[darkeyed]

It's contradictory, he knows, when they're meant to be scared of what lies within it, but there have been times M.K. has found a sense of calmness in the eternal night. Times he's laid still and listened to the sounds of the dark forest and the silent stars, and felt the act of simply doing nothing but being and breathing--moments so few and far between in his old life as to barely be remembered.

He hasn't felt that stillness in a while. Of late, he has been scared of what lies in the dark, of what it keeps taking. An itching unease carried in the back of his mind day in and day out. It would seem this world has gone back to its usual ways: gobbling up the people he knows. Who will be left? He fears soon it'll be no one, and worse, that not every disappearance is the work of the spirits.

Although scouting and patrolling was already a normal part of his routine, they grow to consume the bulk of them. Urgency fuels him; he sleeps less. The lie he'd fed himself had frayed but held intact after the disastrous mission to reconnect the Lighthouse Keeper left so many of them dead or unaccounted for, but now he can no longer pretend to be impartial. He's not. Every day he and the others fail to find clear evidence of Riku's whereabouts, his worry stacks daily.

So one can imagine his bafflement and alarm (this can't be another hallucination, can it?) when he thinks he spies the object of his searching in the distance. It's around six in the morning, the time he usually makes the trek from village to town square to collect a brief breakfast and top up supplies. The bag at his side, filled with some fruit, matches, and a full canteen of water from a visit to the Invincible and the general store, is immediately forgotten.

That silver hair--it's unmistakable. But his eyes in the weak light must be playing tricks.

"Riku!" Surprise lends his voice a sharp, ringing volume, teetering volume. He lifts the torch in his hand higher--ever since Bruce's rather ominous promises, he's been carrying one more often.

[equinoctials]

The forest sounds better with the insects back, their chirping in the night sometimes helps when his thoughts loom too large to let him sleep. For M.K., who has experienced so much turmoil in his short life, so much violence and betrayal, it's good he can find some measure of peace and calm.

Riku will regret his role in robbing him of that by his inexplicable absence.

He could relate with how it troubles, Riku was here when the fated lighthouse mission took place and the losses were staggering. They remember. They're aware of how the dark is a bottomless stomach ready to swallow up any who stray too far into it, whose vigilence slips even a little. As if these things weren't enough, there's the added suspicion in their own senses brought on by the recent hallucinations, how convincing their illusions.

Riku, coincidentally, had just been on one of his early morning sprints and the safest place to do so in the dark was always the shore. This time, he has a somewhat poorly fitting leather bomber jacket to wear, and as he enters the square he's pulling it on to protect himself from the chilly air cooling the sweat on his skin. Reaching behind his head, he's yanking the hood of the sleeveless jacket he wears underneath it out of the back of his collar when he hears his name.

There's a quality to it he's not used to hearing in M.K.'s voice, which is why he easily breaks into a run to catch up with him, "What's wrong?" And Riku looks everywhere else but at the real problem, brows furrowing when he doesn't identify some immediate cause for alarm.

"I hoped I'd run into you."

[darkeyed]

The other could've stood still and the result would've been the same; if Riku hadn't hastened to close the distance, he would have. He'll be damned: Riku. Is he--? No. No. He's not seeing things--he's relatively sure of that. His mind has been his own for some time again, and when it hadn't, his visions had fixated on older chapters of his life, ones from the Badlands and beyond. He doesn't think his imagination has enough in it to re-produce Riku to the same degree of detail as the ring of flickering torchlight picks out when the other boy steps into it.

All intact, all accounted for. He rakes him from head to toe with his gaze, scarcely believing. "What do you mean what's wrong?" he snaps. "Where have you been!?"

His anonymous informant had said to expect as much--that Riku would likely reappear on his own time--but he hadn't embraced the words, only the gaps between them, the lies by omission that left room for doubt. The Badlands may be far behind him, but the marks it'd left lives on in the scars on his arms and his expectation of the worst: a hundred nameless, faceless people could him tell not to worry, but only omissions counted for anything until his eyes decided the truth.

"What happened to you?" Said eyes stay locked on the immediate cause for alarm--the one and only that matters. The sight of Riku whole and here loosens the torrent of questions that have been building up in his absence. "Where were you? Are you okay?"

4b - a gasp between battles.

[moderatelymaladjusted]

Sitting with his knees up and his arms folded around them against the wall, Quentin tries to listen. For spirits. For intruders. For anything but the unsettling regularity of breath coming from the sleepers not too far away.

He made it. How, he doesn't even know. It's all just a blur of dark nights and endless battles. Of wiping away blood and pulling dead spirits off of the injured residents, until his arms hurt and his back felt like someone has poured gasoline over it and set a match to it.

Too many near-misses and jagged teeth spitting out from the darkness, and the green eyed ones?

He cups his own head in his hands, takes a deep breath and makes himself get up.

It isn't over yet.

The hallways leading to this room, are all warded and armed with pointy sticks. With swords and flails and if they had had the resources, it would have had bombs, too. But they needed all the alcohol for wounds and as painkiller, to numb themselves enough to sleep, even a little, when they know what's out there. What's just waiting for them on the other side of the door.

Leaning against the wall for balance, Quentin finds his way to the planning room. Or, it doesn't have a name, but it the place they move to for news, for updating tablets and for discussing their next move. Unlike the room of the sleepers, this room is only dimly lit and the deep, dark shadows makes him shudder.

They're low on food, low on water. There's only so much sleeping they can do, before jolting awake. Sometimes it's noises, like rats in the walls, and sometimes it's the ghostly feelings of fingers in his brain, poking around until he's ready to scream to get them out.

"Hey? Any news? And please tell me someone found a way to get water?"

[equinoctials]

Sometimes, Riku leaves off of patrolling and fighting and slipping out in search of people or something useful, sometimes he comes back with new injuries and more rarely, he comes back with supplies. This is one of those times when he's taking a break - and even as far as breaks go, this isn't restful.

He sits with their slumbering friends, carefully unwrapping one from the blanket they're swaddled in, to start easing one of their limbs into moving. A leg to bend, an ankle to rotate, a hand to flex, like he's ever had comatose friends to deal with and, somehow, knows what to do.

"The closest is the river," he says quietly as he finishes, wrapping one sleeper in a moth-eaten blanket, "If we boil it long enough, we can drink it. It's just..." Dangerous? It's all dangerous. The river, getting to the Invincible... the last attempt he made, the spirits were too thick, prowling the well-known paths. He had to double and triple around just to make sure he wasn't followed to the Armory.

"Try to make it last in the meantime."

Riku doesn't drink the alcohol. He rarely sleeps, his appetite hasn't been great, either, he forces it so there's one less way to wear him down and dull his ability to do what drives him: to protect.

When he returns, he bumps his shoulder into Quentin's, sympathy in the fleeting sidelong glance he gives him, "They'll wake up," is an unconvincing encouragement but he makes it anyway, "That's not what's bothering you, is it."

It hasn't gone unnoticed. The way his hair is in disarray for all the times Quentin's fingers have raked through it, the worry that haunts his glances, his restless pacing and the sighs he makes. Quentin probably needs to get out.

He thinks of the dead, of the dangers out there, and hesitates to make such a suggestion.

[moderatelymaladjusted]

It is, and it isn't. Quentin lets the casual contact slide, and looks back over his shoulder towards the sleepers. That's not what they are, but it's the only way he's allowing himself to think about them. Like they're just sleeping, like maybe they'll wake up one day and see all of this. All of the effort and sheer willpower poured in to making them as safe as they possibly can.

Until all the protectors are gone. It's a risk each of them takes, every time they step outside the carefully maintained corridors and the almost safe rooms.

There was a curse like this, Quentin remembers. Kady found it, when they were combing the Brakebills library for clues about battle magic and ways to stop an inhuman Beast. They'd all laughed themselves sick, talking about it. The Sleeping Beauty Curse. Margo had suggested that she'd never be dumb enough to get cursed in the first place and Eliot agreed, suggesting that the only one in the group who'd be really at risk, was Quentin. Because he'd never not help a pretty face if asked, and who could argue with that? It had been fun, until someone read the consequences of letting the curse run its course, which just made everyone look at him with pity and worry.

They tore the pages out and set them on fire in Penny's room.

This isn't it, because he's tried all known counter-spells, all the fairy tale bullshit and nothing is working. So, part of the grinding sensation against his soul, is his complete inability to help.

"I don't know what I'll do if they don't," and by 'they' he means Eliot. And by 'not knowing', Quintin has this strange, almost out-of-body vision of setting the whole forest on fire, burning everything to the ground until who ever is doing this, shows themselves. He shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes with both hands.

"There's only so much we can do to make it last. We need more, even if it is from the river," with the pretty swirling lights and the whispers. Running his hands through his hair again, tugging on the greasy strands to get them to stay behind his ears, Quentin continues, "I can go, but if I go alone, I'm going to jump. It's not-- I don't want to, but. There's something about that river."

He desperately wishes for Alice, to bend the light and make them all invisible.

Looking up, Riku looks as bad as Quentin does. Face haggard and weary, the bags under his eyes large enough and dark enough to look like greasepaint in his pale face, and even his silver hair looks dull and dirty. The clothes he's managed to find or wear, are hanging off of him, like they're a size too large but Quentin doesn't know him well enough to know if it's from weight-loss or from just pulling whatever was closest on to keep warm.

"With the rationing and with the sleepers getting their share, we're down to a few days before we run out. We'll all die within a week, if we can't get anymore. I've tried to get someone on the network to respond, but. I haven't heard from the Invincible since yesterday morning."

4b. (Prompto) cw: needles, neck injury

[equinoctials]

While the Armory has proven to be an effective safehouse, it lacks a lot of creature comforts.

Quentin's concerned about their food and water supplies and with good reason. He's mentioned it, and Riku's been making short trips out of the Armory, hoping to scout out opportunities to resupply. All the usual places - the General Store, the Invincible - are blocked off. The paths are thick with spirits.

More often than not, all Riku returns with is raw, natural water pulled up from the river. They have to boil it for a long time to make it safe to drink, into some of it Riku mixes a little of their food, trying to make their meager rations last. The soup is thin, bland, and better than nothing but that's not really saying much.

"Prompto," he says, carrying with him a thermos of the stuff, "Don't push yourself too hard, I'll take next watch. Here," he holds out to him the thermos, "Drink, see if you can get some sleep."

[techtype]

Prompto's mentally kicking himself for not securing more rations while he could, while he was in the town proper. He'd stashed a few canned something-or-others into the armiger when he was in the store, but he didn't think about how he and others wouldn't be able to get back from the armory as easily, or that they'd be there for that long.

At least they have water. And watery soup, which Prompto is definitely not admitting out loud is terrible. There are worse alternatives, but they're not to that point yet.

"Speak for yourself, dude. You're the one taking the most trips outside." But he does take the offered thermos, taking a gulp of the 'soup' inside. Still not that great, but it's something. "I'm not tired, but you're welcome to take next watch."

[equinoctials]

The lesson Riku takes away here is that he needs to be better about preparing for the worst. That means caches hidden around Beacon, maybe. That means keeping more on hand than he personally needs, challenging his own pre-existing standards. There's a lot of things Riku could have, should have done differently.

And yes, he's a terrible cook. If anyone had said so aloud, Riku wouldn't have been insulted, nor would he have blamed them for the opinion. It's not like he ever really learned - it's always been about what just kept him going for the next few hours, next few days, weeks. Priorities are always shifting in favor of what addresses the needs he thinks his friends have right now.

He hasn't cut his hair since the first ferry came in and by now it's reached the length it had been when they all first left the islands, it dusts his shoulders where it hangs from around his ears, in the back it rests between his shoulder blades. Some things just fall by the wayside.

"Worried about me?" he challenges Prompto but not without friendliness, it's in that quirk at the corner of his mouth, the way his posture remains open when he doesn't cross his arms, but puts a hand on his hip and the other flicks at the air near his own shoulder, "Well, thanks, but-"

Everything in Riku's frame goes very still, eyes flicking to a point just past Prompto.

"...Get away from the win--"

It happens fast, an explosion of splintering wood and glass as something smashes through the boarded up window, long and spindly limbs that reach in, then bend and seek to drag back whatever and whoever is in reach.

Needle like and dark, those points savagely dig in regardless of whether the purchase they find is in clothing or flesh, and the person closest is Prompto.