logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

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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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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.]

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. ]

[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.

[ 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.

I am not hiding in a bloody closet.

[If one of those creatures come in, she's going to kill it: both for having the audacity to come into her lab, her laboratory, how dare it-- and because she has no intentions of cowering and hoping it won't spot her. Can't run, either, not if it's crawling in. The only sensible option is to fight.

She's busy as she snaps that, though, grabbing a very small, innocent looking device. Fixing it to the doorframe, she drags it down to where the tripwire is, then nods grimly.]

Try not to set off the trap. It will make a noise at around 130 dB, which is quite overwhelming. And--

[A weapon. Her dagger, and she's not nearly as good at it as she ought to be, but it's something.]

With what, that injury?

[ Riku's usually got a better rein on his sass these days, but the strain, the tension have worn him thin. He moves to the next window, tests it, covers it, moves on to the next. ]

Knowing which end of that knife goes in the other guy? Get real.

[ This might turn into an argument. He exhales hard, sighing, and with a short toss of his head he turns toward her. ]

I have a way to conceal us. It'll give us an edge if we're gonna have to fight our way out. It won't work if they trip over us, okay?

[Oh, she will not forget he said that, but now isn't the time. A glare will have to serve for the moment, even as she trusts him to keep their front guarded and turns towards her machine.]

Then say that next time instead of blindly ordering me.

Do I make you explain everything?

[ Riku doesn't wait for an answer and doesn't expect one, snapping impatiently: ]

No, because I trust you!

[ Which might be a compliment under other circumstances, if it wasn't being framed like an argument. He isn't keen on whenever something decides to come in through the door and sets off that trap - he doesn't have protection for his ears any more than Rosalind does, or the spirits - but he can at least drag her armchair over towards the door. One more thing to slow something down if it comes lumbering inside. ]

[The admission surprises her, to say the least, though she doesn't let it slow her down. It's a split-second's shock, nothing more, and maybe later on when everything isn't so frantic, she'll mention it.]

. . . and where will you be? Hiding as well? Or attempting to attack?

I won't turn down an advantage like being hidden.

[ In short: yeah, he plans on being right there with her. What he doesn't explain is how he'll do it, or the fact that he has to be physically present and near enough to manage it. He doesn't mention the risks, either, because the way he sees it if it comes down to using the Darkness it's already a matter of life or death.

He probably won't ask for forgiveness later, either, but he'll watch her a little more closely out of a sense of personal responsibility. ]

Good.

[Ten minutes, and she turns, pacing to Riku's side, anxious about the noise and unable to do a single thing to hurry it along or quiet it down.]

And when did this come about, this trust?

[Just kidding we're talking about it now, even if she's staring fixedly at the doorway.]

Edited 2019-11-18 06:59 (UTC)

[ Riku hasn't kept idle, hopefully she doesn't mind too much that he's moved her furniture, not so much barricading them in as presenting one heck of an obstacle course for anyone daring to bust down the door.

He's as nervous as she, though the only signs are in the tightness of his jaw, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists. A glance darted her way and he purses his lips. ]

You were honest about your grief. I didn't need to know.

[ Who's the sappy one now. ]

[There's nothing to really say to that. No snappy comeback, no cold, drawled statement that would land. Rosalind nods just once, an acknowledgement.

At least she doesn't have to think about it for long. Not half a minute later, there's an awful noise: a thump against the door that's loud enough to echo in her chest, and then it repeats once, twice, a horrible parody of a knock.

And a noise . . . like a coo, low and guttural, questioning as much as it is entreating.]

. . . five minutes. That's all we need. Five more minutes.

[ Riku's nostrils flare. Darkness can come in many forms, but Riku can't pinpoint the precise nature of what Darkness he detects. He can recognize familiar scents, but unlike someone who was born of it, someone like Vanitas, reading its precise nature is beyond him.

He knows better than to trust or hope a spirit's chirp outside might be from a friend, suspecting that most of them went into hiding themselves.

Riku motions at her, waving Rosalind away, presumably towards wherever she has somewhere they both can hide. If she starts to retreat, he'll go with her as quietly as he can manage, stopping to scoop up his lantern.

He'll pass it to her, too, if she'll allow him, watching the source of that sound warily. ]

[She nods silently and makes her way over towards the closet, taking his lantern in her left hand. Her own is snagged on the way, lifted very carefully off one of her lab tables. There's almost no sound, but metal meets metal, and there's a quiet scrape.

There's breathless silence.

And then there's a bellow, low and long and loud, and Rosalind doesn't bother to keep her footsteps light; she races forward, grabbing Riku's wrist, both their lanterns jerking wildly, yanking them both in the closet.]

[ Riku trades a look with her, both of them holding their breath in that beat of expectant silence.

The bellow spurs them into action; she grabs his wrist and he doesn't protest, he reaches out for the handle of the closet door with the other to pull it shut behind them. In the light of their lanterns, sending fragments of light and shadow scattering off the walls of this narrow space, he motions to cover his ears.

It might set off the trap.

Then he places a hand over his heart. He closes his eyes. What he needs is the darkness and the best source he has comes from within - the greatest, the easiest to reach is all the grief and fury that lies just beneath the surface, what he swallows down into his heart so he can face each lightless day with the focus and determination he needs.

These are what he dredges up now, when he needs them: his complicated grief that can't and won't let go of them, the miserable and unceasing loneliness, the impotent rage that he should have and didn't prevent Kairi's death.

It billows out from him like a great black fog, filling up the space like dark smoke and obliterating from view everything, even the light of their lanterns. In it, Riku plugs his ears and waits for the concussive pressure of the trap to be felt through his whole body, if it's ever tripped at all. ]

[Her fingers press carefully over ears, her eyes locked on Riku. She doesn't know what to expect, if it's an ability or something more ordinary, and she thinks of all the vigors that Columbia had to offer, all the fantastic powers that they could grant a man.

But nothing like this.

It billows out like so much smoke, flooding through their closet, her lab . . . she's blinded in an instant. There's a worrying creak, but for a moment, nothing. And then the door opens, and a metallic snap, and then suddenly the world is shrieking.

It's a very, very loud alarm.

Even with her ears plugged Rosalind winces, but slides one foot out, bumping it against Riku's. If he's to move, she wants to know about it. It's impossible for anything to be heard above that siren's wail, but it sounds as though the spirit is stumbling around, there's glass crashing and an awful metallic crunch--

--and then claws at their door, scraping once, twice, before there's an awful splintering.]

[ This is not the realm of darkness, it's not a slow leeching of the warmth out of one's bones, the gradual washing out of one's outlook, the inexorable slippage of time into some meaningless concept. Riku backs Rosalind up, crowding her into a corner of the closet by his own back.

And then he isn't there anymore, like he simply evaporated into the curdling black.

Riku has slipped into the darkness, he hears it splintering the door so he acts, he lunges blindly, dropping out of the ceiling with his blade point first until it bites into something, tries to slip back into the dark again to reappear from another direction. It's an old tactic, one of his most effective, but untested here.

It found the closet, so he's not even sure how much advantage the darkness here gives them, all he can do is deploy several point to point jumps to attempt to attack, and pray Rosalind stays put in that corner.

The ear-splitting siren makes his whole jaw ache, he realizes in the din he hasn't thought about what he'll do if it doesn't fall to this. Or how much more attention they'll attract with that siren. ]

[Of course she's staying in the corner. If she moved about in this darkness, it'd be a miracle if Riku didn't end up stabbed her purely by mistake. He's clever with a blade, but even the cleverest warrior can't help it if someone gets in their way.

So she stays put, her back jammed into a corner, but then-- then, several things happen all at once.

The first: a claw thrusts through the door, wood shattering at her feet. The second: it draws back, then thrust forward again, and Rosalind cries out as something sinks deep into her shoulder, piercing through clothing and flesh; in an instant blood pours down her front, staining her shirt a crimson she can't see. The third: Riku's blade hits home a moment later, and the creature's shriek of pain is almost as loud as the alarm.]

Riku!

[It's time to go. The cart's ready, and they can yank it along effortlessly, they can pull it as fast as they can run-- Rosalind stumbles forward in the dark, working on muscle memory alone.]

Come on!

[ If they manage to make it far enough to assess what happened, Riku will be grateful she knew to keep where he'd pressed her; friendly fire's never friendly.

As it stands, his ears are ringing from the awful sound, he hears the spirit shriek and feels the blow shudder up his arms, hears another sound and thinks that must be Rosalind's shout. There's a change in the scent of this Darkness and, recognizing hers, he reaches for her, finding the bend of her elbow. Her skin feels wet and warm.

Riku is already turning to get them away from the injured spirit, realizing a few moments later she must be bleeding. Did he hit her? Or did that spirit--

The Darkness begins to unfurl away from them, as it begins to fade he sees the cart. Turning it onto its side proves something of a hassle, but he doesn't see any other way of getting it through the door. He kicks out with a foot, knocking the alarm further into the lab.

The two of them, working together, can shove the cart outside faster than one alone. ]

Together we can do it, then get on!

[It doesn't take much effort. Her lab has never been the most stable of buildings; it's easy to shove the cart through, half-blind though they are. Behind them the creature roars, and Rosalind glances over at Riku, blinking hard, trying to be sure she actually sees him.]

Our lanterns--

[She'd completely forgotten.]

[ If ever there was a time that was absolutely worth cursing, this is it.

He doesn't. Riku sheds his jacket, quickly, wrestles out of the sweatshirt he wears under it and, wadding this up, he presses this against Rosalind and puts her hands there in his place. ]

Don't move.

[ He doesn't take his jacket with him; he takes his sword instead, sucking in a breath before he bolts back inside.

The alarm continues to bleat shrilly, it's the rest of the noise that makes it worse - the deceptively pleasant chirrup, the horrible roar that follows, the metallic clang and desperate thumps, a shout and an earsplitting howl that starts to gurgle at one great crash and then another.

A short while later, Riku emerges in the doorway in a stagger, leaning against it, lanterns hanging from both arms. He surges towards the cart and drops them there, gasping. Where he presses his now empty hand his side is nearly black with blood. ]

Anything... coming?

[Selfish not to argue with him about who's going in, but it's not as if she's ever anything but. She presses his jacket to her bloody wounds and waits. There's no use in running; if he fails, it's not as if she'll get very far regardless. But that doesn't mean she isn't tense, gritting her teeth, hating the way she can so easily picture the results of the battle inside--

--and he emerges. So impossibly hurt that she genuinely wonders if he might just bleed out, and in that moment she makes a split-second decision.]

Get in the bloody cart. Don't argue.

[Because something isn't coming now, but that doesn't mean it won't in a moment. Anyway, she won't bring him far: just far enough to patch him up.]

[ He looks ready to argue, her don't, the cold dark pressing in all around them, smothering and full of untold danger, makes him think twice. His fingers curl around the edge of the cart and when his stomach tightens to pull the rest of him on board the wound in his side takes his breath away.

Riku turns. He can't say he's done anything more than half-collapse on the cart, the air above his bloodied hand starts to ripple, the way heat brings a mirage, this one shot through with wisps of black.

She might be - even as injured as she is - doing something about moving them, but Riku's stripping off the glove from his other hand with his teeth. The leather is stuffed between his teeth and his breath gusts through his nostrils, he pulls at the same darkness that he'd used to shield them from view and screws shut his eyes.

Dark Firaga casts no light, it's a smokeless heat that roils black and violet, and when it erupts from the palm pressed against his bleeding side it's his glove that smothers the animal noise that scrapes him raw on its way out of his throat. The smell is about what one would expect, cauterizing a wound with fire. ]

[She doesn't wince, but rather watches his self-triage with a grim expression. It's a good idea, as is his biting back his scream of pain, but that doesn't mean she enjoys watching it. It's sickening and fascinating all at once, but for once, she isn't thinking of science. Just survival.]

Can you do that for me?

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EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

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