logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

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?

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i. the feast

[ For better or worse, the food is unappetizing.

Curious, yes. Interesting, yes. But it doesn't call to her. Ellever's head is full of too many myths, too many legends. Even though some of it looks delicious, she simply watches, curiously, as some of Beacon picks up a morsel and takes a bite — and then falls over immediately. Her heart does an immediate flip-flop in her stomach, eyes widening as she turns to look for someone familiar. Castiel, now on the ground. Instinct takes over, as much as she wants to gawk and attempt to process this whole thing. She lunges forward to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder. ]

Castiel? Hey!

[ But as soon as the words leave her lips, the sounds of spirits light up the night. Her grip tightens on Castiel's shoulder protectively as she looks around, expression grim. Her background in security is more than enough to tell her that this isn't a defensible position. With much more strength than it looks like the blonde woman should have, she wraps one arm around Castiel's middle and hoists him up, only partly dragging his legs because he's taller than she is. It would be comical in another situation. ]

Uh. Ideas? Anyone?!

[ Anything that comes at her will get punched with that same strength via her free hand, hard enough to throw it several feet back. ]

ii. the Invincible

[ A strategy had emerged: getting Dreamers to the Invincible, which provides more immediate protection than some other places. Ellever finds a nice, safe place to put Castiel before she does anything else, patting his shoulder — a gesture that's more self-comfort than anything else. That out of the way, her mind immediately turns to everyone else stuck in this mess. She scrambles back out toward the door, spotting a spirit already attempting to get past someone dragging a Dreamer into safety. Eyes narrowed to slits, Ellever lets out a wordless yell and slams her leg hard into it, throwing it clean out of the Invincible. ]

Oh, god. [ That doesn't feel... the best. She stands there, panting, trying to get her emotions back under control. Things are bad enough as it is. She doesn't need to lose it and make everyone's luck one hundred percent worse. ] I really need a weapon.

[ As others scramble into the Invincible, Ellever will defend them with everyone else, even leaving it a short distance to see if anyone is calling for help. But she doesn't always get the cleanest of shots with a leg or fist. Claws make short work of the sleeves of her blouse and the skin of her arms as the day wears on, and track messily up one shorts-clad leg when she isn't paying close enough attention. Pain isn't unknown to her, but her eyes are oddly cloudy and grey by the end of the first day. If anyone has a melee weapon to spare, Ellever could use it. ]

iii. it rages on

[ Over the course of the next few days, her eyes don't clear up; she can feel the shadows on the corner of her vision constantly. Her arms burn and her leg stings, a sensation she hasn't felt in quite a long time. Wasn't supposed to feel, until...

Ellever puts all her energy into being helpful. She tries to keep her mind occupied that way. Her strength is useful for barricading and fixing those barricades, and she has training in keeping people calm. But her emotions, underneath the calm facade, are all over the place. Every once in a while she slips up, finds a corner, and puts her hands over her face, unkindly rubbing to get some sort of sensation back. It feels, to her, as though the room dulls and quiets and shrinks on her — makes it hard to breathe —

Oh. Someone is standing next to her. Did they say something? ]

Uh. [ A deep breath. ] What did you say?

[The Soldier thinks they know what Ellever is doing. There's been more than once where they've had to hide in a corner, breathe carefully, and pointedly ignore everything else going on around them while flares of memory or hallucinations settle and fade away. While they got themselves back to baseline.

Not during a mission, maybe. But not everyone has missions focus like a murder machine does.

So they repeat, as gently as they know how (which is not super gently, but they do manage calm and quiet),]

Are you okay.

[ Her emotions getting the better of her just aren't an option, at this point. She'd rather throw herself out of the Invincible and deal with everything on her own than accidentally kill someone, or many someones, in here. But when she closes her eyes all she can see is flames, and when she's not paying attention she can hear Ezra calling her name -- frantic.

She blinks as she focuses on the Soldier, with his impressive arm and his no-nonsense expression. ]

I... no. [ Someone else might lie, but Ellever doesn't see the point. She shrugs. ] But I'll be okay. I just needed to... come over here and take a deep breath. It's... it's a lot.

[The Soldier nods. While they don't have great control over their tone of voice, their expression manages one that is soberly sympathetic.]

It is a lot.

[Truth is always better. It's easier to help someone if they know the truth.]

Are you hurt? Or just overwhelmed?

[ Ellever shifts herself so that he can see the long claw mark up one of her mostly-bare legs. It's been cleaned hastily, which she did right before she'd managed a nap. She hasn't slept much, but it's something. Luckily she's never needed as much sleep as most people, a fact she doesn't like to think about. ]

I got a little scraped up. [ Her arms are clawed up, as well, but those were done with finer implements. ] It's fine, it's clean.

[ That's the crux of it, though. She isn't supposed to be able to be injured like this. Not unless...

...dammit, she's trying not to think about that. ]

You seem pretty calm. Have you been here in Beacon a while?

Two and a half months now. And I would be panicking right now if I let myself. I have a job to do.

[A quick glance over her wounds show no sign of infection yet, and they're not so deep that they need stitches. So they'll let that be for now. Instead, they ask,]

What's your name?

[ Is it comforting that the guy with the scary-looking metal arm would be panicking? Or does that make all of this worse? ...no, it's the former. Ellever, as a person who works in security, had felt bad at needing to take so many breaks. Then again, there's no section in any handbook for, "you caused the apocalypse, here's how to deal with it." ]

Elle Brandt. It's nice to meet you.

[ She offers the hand not clutching a knife, but she won't be offended if he doesn't shake it. Things are crazy right now. And crazy in general. ]

Does this kind of thing happen a lot?

[The Soldier doesn't take it, taking an automatic half step back out of touching range, but giving her an apologetic half-smile and a sheepish duck of their head, instead. It's not her, it's them: they're just not great at casual touching if it isn't absolutely necessary, or it isn't one of like... two people they're comfortable enough with for it.]

There have been attacks. The green-eyes are hostile, and they come out occasionally. Twice directly, at the previous feast and then when people connected Robin in the lighthouse to the network. Another time indirectly, with hallucinations. Now this.

[Notice how they didn't give a name, back, Elle?]

Not all the spirits are like this, though.

[ Ellever offers a little apologetic smile in return, dropping her hand quickly. It doesn't bother her that he doesn't give a name. He's clearly got a lot going on. ]

No, some of the spirits are kind of nice, [ she agrees. ] Maybe it's just like any group. There are assholes in all of them.

[ Then what he'd said really sinks in. ]

Wait, there was another feast?

That's my theory. I've been told the green-eyes are "nasty" to other spirits, too.

[They shrug, tilting their head little, thoughtfully.]

It was. Not like this one. Before my time, so I only know what I've heard about it. Smaller party. Only one attacker, I think. This is much more. But there are many more of us now, too.

[ Huh. Spirits being mean to other spirits. Ellever frowns, listening to his recounting of what he'd heard. ]

One attacker...

[ She raises one of her hands to rub at her face, both because she has an itch and because the sensation makes her feel more connected to what's going on. Her body, here. Not her mind, currently half back home, wondering what became of her father. Her Earth. ]

If only, huh? There seems to be an insane amount of them this time around. [ Ellever sighs. ] I just hope the... sleeping people are going to be okay.

There have been. Events.

[The Soldier frowns.]

Specific things that happen for a specific set of time. The indirect attacks last month. The gravestone that told everyone's death stories. I can't say for certain, but it's possible this is like that.

[They don't make any nervous tics, like she does, all of their attention currently focused on the conversation-- except the plates in the metal arm shift and buzz a little.]

But it may not be like that. And we will need to keep killing them until they stop.

[Or until the green-eyed spirits kill the Beacon dwellers. But they have just enough tact not to say that.]

[ Patterns are halfway comforting, at least. Ellever listens to him recount them with a deep frown. This is what she has to look forward to, she guesses. It's like something out of one of her worst, messiest expeditions, multiplied. ]

I mean, they can't expect that we're not going to defend ourselves. Especially if they've attacked before. They have to know.

[ Breaks aside, she's not going to stop defending the people in this establishment. Even if they claw the life out of her. Even if she dies. Again. A line has to be drawn somewhere. ]

This is a capable group of people. [ Her frown lightens to something resembling a smile, directed at him. ] We can probably manage.

ellever brandt | OTA

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