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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( Javert doesn't dare believe it, at first. He knows Crowley has connections, people he cares about, and some of them may be on the floor there sleeping. But why would he come here? Why not barricade yourself in your house, or anywhere else more fortified than an inn? )

Don't tell me you have a bleeding heart now?

( Perhaps this isn't the time to be taunting him. Javert comes down the stairs with his sword at his hip, ready to fight and defend against anything that may try to force itself through. He levels a flat look at Crowley and snorts. It may not be the proper time, but Javert just cannot resist. )

Edited 2019-11-18 05:08 (UTC)

[Crowley turns. Oh, it's him. Asshole Frenchman who ordered the human soldier person around and thought he knew everything. One of Crowley's favorite people in the whole town and exactly who he wants to see when he's in this sort of a mood.

Crowley hisses and takes half a step forward, subtly putting himself between the approaching person and the sleeping Aziraphale.]

What the hell are you doing here?

I could ask you the same thing.

( He's the one that lives here, after all. It's a bit of a foolish question, but Javert isn't going to do anything to dissuade the animosity in which it's asked. Why would he, when it pleases him so much? He steps further into the room with a haughty gait, not caring for the others that lay on the ground. )

Why the hostility? I'm not the one that brings trouble with me wherever I go.

You can't possibly think I did this.

[That would be a new one. He almost welcomes this sort of fight, this sort of an argument. It's better than just fighting against an enemy that keeps coming and coming and they can't possibly win. Crowley can best a fight between people. He can't beat these spirits.]

No. ( He's seen these spirits before. The green-eyed one, standing along the edges of the forest. He doesn't know what their ploy is, what they hope to accomplish, but he knows better than to point finger at one of their own. )

I am merely saying that you pose more of a threat to the people here than I do. Try to keep this place standing, won't you?

( He's never going to let Crowley live the ferry incident down. )

At least I don't try to keep them trapped here like prisoners.

[He points towards the door]

If this doesn't convince you that we need to get out of this place, nothing will! Not everyone here wanted to die, not everyone here deserves to be chased around by monsters!

I would hardly consider this a prison.

( He answers matter-of-factly, not giving away anything, nor tearing his gaze away from Crowley. )

But come, now is not the time for arguing. If you truly wish to help, now is time to do so. I have spare wood and nails we can use to board the windows with. You may assist me, if you wish.

( Or he'll find someone else, he doesn't care. )

Sure, okay. Not a prison. Maybe just an execution block.

[Crowley turns, glancing back down at the sleeping Aziraphale. He's been watching over him since this all started and the angel hasn't woken up, or even slightly stirred. And the windows do need to be boarded up. They won't last with the furniture that's been stuck up against them with brute force and a few miracles.

He affects indifference.]

Why not? I prefer my death row fortified.

Come, then.

( Javert may not share in his pessimism, but it's an apt comparison nonetheless. They may have sustained a great number of causalities the last time the spirits attacked, but this time, they're more prepared. They have the armory, now, and the town as a whole has been more vigilant.

Before going to the windows, Javert leads Crowley up the stairs to his rooms. There, on the floor, is the collection of leftover wood from when he had been building furniture. On the table, there's a box of nails, and a hammer. Javert takes them both and places them in his pocket. )

Take as much as you can carry.

( He says, motioning to the wood. )

[Crowley picks up a single plank of wood and thinks, briefly, of hitting the man over the head with it.

Nah, that'd be too petty.

Or just petty enough?

You really think you deserve this place? Staying here, you think you deserve it. You said that by the bonfire.

( Javert isn't paying any attention to him, busy as he is collecting the wood. It isn't until Crowley asks him a question that he stops, and looks across at him with an indecipherable expression. He takes another piece of wood from the pile, then answers, )

Yes.

You think me cruel, and perhaps you're right, but believe me when I say I was far worse, before. I would not have thought twice about your friend up. I would not have compromised.

( Far be it for Javert to spill his heart out to a man he doesn't like, but this? This is simply an acknowledgement of his sins. Javert isn't going to hide them from anyone. )

I've done wrong, and I have done wrong in God's eyes by taking my life. That is why I deserve this place.

[Oh, look, it's Crowley's favorite topic of conversation, and his face will screw up in acknowledgement of it.]

It doesn't take a whole lot to do wrong in God's eyes, mate. Talking to the wrong people, asking a lot of questions----

[Crowley usually just feels bad for the suicides in Hell. He thinks of it like someone dying of asphyxiation when they really have cancer as their overall problem. Most of the people who die of suicide have depression as their overall problem. Try explaining that to the heavenly hosts, of course.]

( It is as he suspected, then. He doesn't seem dejected by the revelation, simply resigned. He continues to pile wood into his arms without saying anything, considering the other man's words to himself before saying, )

I never would have taken you for a religious man.

( It's not said with any sort of derision, only curiosity, and an unspoken question. )

Edited 2019-11-20 21:33 (UTC)

Religious men look a certain way, do they?

[He'd played the part of a priest more than a few times before, and even then he'd been told by everyone they were surprised he'd taken the cloth. Maybe he just had the look.]

Let's just say I've had my own---experiences. They've left me with no doubt whatsoever.

[a pause, and his face twists a little]

And with lots of doubts. But that's how everything goes with the Ineffable Almighty, isn't it?

I would not know. I do not understand Him.

( He does look surprised, though, when Crowley declares to have had experiences. Javert may not have a high opinion of him, but he can't help but be curious about what that means, and what it may say about Crowley. )

I nevermuch cared for His authority, not until recently. What makes you so certain of your beliefs?

Edited 2019-11-26 03:55 (UTC)

I never cared for the Almighty's authority at all. Got me where I ended up.

[he considers just telling this person the truth. Would he believe him? Would it really matter if he didn't?]

What makes you so certain of yours?

I am certain of nothing, save for that I must be punished.

( It's the second time he's admitted to it, and it feels just as uncomfortable and unnerving as the first. Despite his occupation as a police spy, Javert has never been any good at deception. He will not lie. Crowley's first remark only continues to feed his curiosity, and after a moment, he asks, )

Do you speak of your death, or something else?

Let's just say, the Almighty thought I needed to be punished, too.

What that was for---well, I guess that's up for the Almighty to decide. Pass judgement as the Creator is wont to do.

( If that is true, then what of mercy? What of confession? Javert may not be certain of much, but he is certain in the possibility of redemption. Not for himself, of course, for he believes himself beyond it, but for others. For people like Valjean, who saved his life when he should not have done so, who broke the law but became the best person Javert has ever known.

He contemplates this for several moments, but in the end, he says nothing. Why should he open his heart up to Crowley? He does not deserve it. )

We are losing time. Come on.

( He speaks harshly, securing the wood in his arms and moving toward the door. )

[Crowley gives the man a look, and follows, only carrying two planks of wood, himself.

By the way, he's definitely not finished with this conversation.]

You wouldn't have fit in in Hell. Heaven, maybe. They're the sort that think they know who deserves what.

( Javert clenches his jaw. He doesn't know whether Crowley meant that as an insult, but he takes it as one just as surely, his voice clipped and his annoyance barely restrained. )

You know nothing of what you speak.

( And he keeps walking, hoping that it will be enough to make Crowley shut up. )

[Oh, Crowley's struck a nerve. And, like the good demon he is, he'll stand on it as long as he can.]

Does it bother you that much? The idea that you might fit in in Heaven? That they'd want you on their angel fleet?

[He's not going to follow at a breakneck speed, more like a slow mosey.]

( He could simply ignore him. It would be ever so easy, to turn his attention to the windows, boarding them and hammering a nail every time Crowley attempts to speak to him. But that would be petty, and Javert is riled up enough about it to not keep quiet. He grinds his teeth, trying to keep his voice low. )

Why would they? Despite what you may think, I am neither decisive nor judgmental. Not as I should be.

( He may have acknowledged the existence of his conscience, but that doesn't mean he's comfortable following it. When being merciful means defying the law, it's going to be a struggle. )

Oh, you think you should be decisive and judgmental? Probably a fan of the King James' version, then. All sorts of judgements, there.

[he drops the wood near the man and leans up against one of the boarded-up walls.]

Hell's not all that great, either. Just a bunch of people trying to cause misery in everybody's lives. Usually very specific people's lives, which is much less efficient, anyway.

Is that not the intent of it?

( He drops the wood as well, taking up a hammer and a few nails from his pocket. He begins boarding up the first window, speaking only when he has finished hammering. )

I have already caused enough misery in people's lives. If I am not meant to be punished, then I will do what I can to make up for it.

( That's why he left that letter to the Prefect, and why he's doing what he can to help people here. It may not make much of a difference, in the end, but at least it feels right. )

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cw: suicide mention

cw: suicide discussion

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