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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I forgot everything. HYDRA took my memories, before and after every mission. I have a few back now.

[Most of which are horrible, but you know, still theirs. They select another nail for the opposite side of the window.]

But sometimes I know things that I don't remember, like how to build things. Or what coffee tastes like.

[She stares at him for a long time, feeling a chill run through her- and it's not the draft that this room has. How cruel can humans get when they end up treating their own like this? There's so many layers to their insanity.

Maybe she was wrong before. Maybe some of them aren't as bad. But how do you tell...? How do you recognize a monster that takes all of your precious memories and feelings away? Without her memories of Rakan, Xayah feels like she would be nothing and no one.]

The memory of the senses and muscles, [she says quietly.] They can take images from your mind, but some things remain only yours.

Since the machine they used targeted my brain, that makes sense. They didn't want my training to be wiped away. My protocols. Just my history. My. Self.

[And without a history or sense of self, there's not a person. They shrug a little, bending to collect another board, offers it to Xayah to arrange and hold in place. Until Beacon, they'd thought pretty much the same thing about humans. All pretty much terrible.]

It's better here. Even when we're under siege. For me, it's better.

[That's understandable. He's getting to build his sense of self here. It might be from scratch but it's better than living in a shell. She wishes she had some magic that could help him but sadly she doesn't.

Dusting off her hands, she steps away from the boarded-up window.]

I think you're a pretty okay guy.

[And that says a lot from someone who dislikes humans a lot.]

[She gets a frankly but subtly skeptical look, then a shrug. They've learned not to argue with people about that kind of thing, whether or not they necessarily agree. Hard to believe you're an okay guy when you're a murder machine.]

Guess you'd know better than me. I'm not even really a person.

[And with that, they heft the rest of the wood and move to the next window, expecting her to follow along and help some more.]

[She does follow after him. And she knows about murder machines- she was one too. A war criminal, they'll mark her, once peace is achieved. Humans will despise her, the same way she wishes doom befalls them all. So killing is not beyond her.]

You have a name and you make decisions on your own, even if said decisions are small and appear insignificant. All of that already makes you someone.

I don't have a name. The word I give people to call me means "Soldier". It's what my first handlers called me.

[The rest is true, they suppose though tactical decisions when on a mission or organizing standard idle activities do not a person make, either. They're not really right about that, of course, and are in fact ignoring a lot of their own day-to-day little decision-making. But it's as much defense mechanism as programming at this point, and so a little tough to get through to them about.]

Will you hold another board for this window?

It's still a name. If you don't like it, you can always change it. So long you decide for yourself, they won't take you from you.

[It takes time, she figures, and this place doesn't offer a lot of it. But he can at least try and see how it goes.]

Sure.

[She takes one of the boards nearby and steps closer, pressing it against the window and wall. Giving him a critical look, she hums.]

'Atall' is a nice name. It means 'fierce'. I knew a Vastayan, tall and broad as a mountain. The family named him "Lind" for he shielded everyone.

[The Soldier winces. It's better than the full body flinch they get, sometimes, when the subject of names comes up, but it's still visible.]

Please don't try to give me a name, Xayah. I don't want one.

[One nice thing about using a metal fist as a hammer, it's not quite as loud as a real hammer. They bang a nail into the board, but it's not so loud that she can't answer them.]

I'm not trying to.

[She gives him a long look and a shrug, shifting attention to peer outside of the room through whatever's left of the window.]

I'm just saying, whatever name you present to people, it's what you see yourself as. It belongs only to you.

People I mentioned I knew once. They lived their names in the full. [Her gaze briefly drops to her hands and then she focuses back on the window.]

[When people start giving names and looking at the Soldier like that, it usually means they're considering ones for them. They dip their head in apology for the assumption, then shift to hammer the second nail in.]

Well. I would rather be a soldier than an assassin, I suppose. Soldat is fine.

Were those other people your friends?

[There's a bit of silence on her part, as if she's trying decide whether to tell him things or no. With a shaky breath, she nods once.]

Lind... he used to carry me on his shoulder like I weighed nothing. I was kid, so I probably wasn't heavier than that of a pebble. [Her lips twitch into a smile very briefly.]

They all disappeared... I went to travel and learn and when I came back, my tribe was completely gone. My father, my mother, not a soul left behind. [She hoped she'd see them again once she dies but, so far, nothing.]

[The Soldier stops hammering to listen, and inclines their head in as sympathetic an expression as they can muster. They are sympathetic. They're just... not great at showing things, sometimes.]

I'm sorry. That had to be. Hard.

[Not having anyone to come back to. They can actually imagine that. The Soldier doesn't exactly have anyone, either. Even if they remembered anyone but Steve, that life was most of a century ago. Anyone else would be long dead.]

What happened to them?

[Xayah only nods, not knowing what else to say. When people tell her they are sorry, they usually don't mean it. Their 'sorry sorry' would be followed by mocking laughter- and Xayah's fist in their teeth.

But there's no laughter here so... he might be? Although it wasn't his fault, he's not from her world.]

I don't know, [she shakes her head.] They just vanished.

I started travelling around, in search of the answer. I met Rakan along the way, and he joined me. We found some shadow ninjas destroying the alcoves by sapping the energy out of them, ruining the forests nearby. We were hunting them down for several years, without much impact. And then, well.

[She died.]

[The Soldier nods, finishes that board. Time to move on to the next room. As they gather wood, they say, halting, looking at the floor,]

I was just the Asset. For a very long time. But there was a Before, maybe seventy years before I died. I had. People then. Too. They're all gone now. Like yours, I don't know what happened to them. Even when I don't remember them, I still know, and that hurts. So I'm sorry.

[Maybe they picked up on her uncertainty over the apology. Maybe they're trying to show that someone else can understand, so she can share the burden. They're just trying different things, here, to try and solidify a connection.]

[So he was used by the people he was trying to help- is what she gathers from what he says. What's wrong with that weird race? Vastayans aren't all sunshine and rainbows but they don't do that kind of thing. She can't imagine her tribe turning against her.

She bites her lip as she follows after him-]

I'm sorry too. For the things you went through. [She pauses.] Do you resent them?

HYDRA. Who kept me?

[The Soldier hitches a shoulder, nudging some wood into a different configuration before setting it down.]

I'd shoot every last one of them. In the face. If I could.

[They say it casually. Like they'd say the sky is blue (or in this case, black). They select a board for the next room's window.]

Hold this?

[It's fine. She says that stuff with ease too, when she talks about humans. They get offended.]

Good.

[Xayah nods and holds the plank again as Soldier starts to drive the nail in it.]

If we run into any one of them here, I'll give you a feather to stab them.

[The Soldier makes a quick, sharp grin.]

Thanks. I'd like that.

[They have like five knives on their person right now, but one more will never go amiss. Especially a fancy feather knife. They've seen Crowley's.]

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EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

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