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?

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Comments

[worthallthis]

There's that word. The Soldier tilts their head a little, down at the tablet but keeping her face in their field of vision. "Handlers aren't generally friends," they say, hesitantly. "I can like a handler." And they do, very much. "But I can't always. Say or do what I would to someone who is only a friend. There are protocols. Even if I've broken half of them with you, anyway."

[shadowsran]

"Nothing saying you can't just keep breaking them, y'know. I'm not about to up and change my opinion about it." And the change in title, rank, feels more meaningful left to his decision making than hers. It's glaringly obvious that she could raise the possibility, and with effort she refrains. Friend is holy ground, and she would rather reach it for his having asked than her.

[worthallthis]

Left up to them, it's probably not going to happen any time soon. The Soldier focuses now on their hand still wrapped carefully around her wrist. "I know. It's. Hard, though. You're the best handler." They don't want to lose that. Javert is good, provides comforting structure and authority, but Misty is in a class all her own. (And Eve is just awful, but it's too late now.)

[shadowsran]

Well she'd better be. She squeezes his arm, little, and carefully. "How does that change if the only difference is breaking more rules than you already have, exactly?"

[worthallthis]

Technically, it wouldn't. She's not a real handler. Not really. Even if she is the best one, the only one who regularly gives them things to do.

It feels cowardly to keep this up, but they aren't really that brave, anyway. After everything, even now, there are still things to be afraid of, and this is one of them. Backing down from the unknown, they shake their head. "I can't. The Asset still needs handlers. What would I even do without you."

[shadowsran]

It's a remarkably casual shrug she meets that with.

"Patrol, talk to all your other friends, check on me twice daily, help garden, origami, cook..." Seen or no, the eyebrows waggle. "Less changes than you might think."

[worthallthis]

She makes it sound so simple. Why does everyone think it's so simple to just... do whatever they want. Make their own decisions outside the comfortable confines of a mission. Be themselves.

Maybe because they know who their "self" actually is?

The Soldier shakes their head one more time, out of actual words to defend their position, if they even had any decent ones to begin with. At least Misty would be familiar with the way "running out of words" looks. It happens fairly regularly, and not always in the middle of uncomfortable subjects.

[shadowsran]

One last squeeze, and her free hand moves to gingerly skip songs. Bicycle Race, luckily. Something light.

"Are you hungry?" She then asks, continuing the transition onto another, simpler topic. Something reassuring. "I've still got bread, and there's stew."

[worthallthis]

Relief. She's not going to push it further. The Soldier sits back a little again, clutching the tablet a little closer, and nods. No words coming back just yet, but their features relax a little. If all she has is bread and stew, they'll definitely have to bring her plenty of supply tomorrow... maybe earlier than today. Maybe on their next patrol.

[shadowsran]

"Anything I can do for you, while you're here?"

Highly unlikely, of course, but it's a neutral topic at worst and helpful at best.

[worthallthis]

They shake their head a little, and force out a couple words finally, one at a time: "Just being here." It's not quite what they mean, but it gets the gist across, they suppose. Be here, be herself, talk to them (though maybe not always about the hard things), and stay alive.

[shadowsran]

She feels a very profound need to hug him, useless to verbalize, but coloring her expression to an unprecedented degree. Were that one could only stare in so particular a way.

"Always. Promise." And then, because it will do no good to sit and stare, she rises and paces off briefly. When she returns to her seat, it is with some paper - thankfully not wrenched from any books.

One is slid gently toward him.

Origami?

[worthallthis]

Misty, why are you the best. They haven't made any little paper animals in days, a week even. Their expression lightens considerably, the last of the tension going out of their shoulders, and they pull the paper up to a comfortable distance for folding. Honestly, even if it came from a book, they probably wouldn't care. They haven't really rediscovered the joys of reading yet. (One very boring book about rocks and the network really don't count.)

Misty gets half a grin, and that unlocks: "Thanks."

[shadowsran]

"Of course." Something tangible, work things out physically, delicately. It does people good to have their hands busy, and does her good to continue tending any of their hobbies under the less than ideal circumstances. On a more selfish note, it's just relieving to see him at any semblance of ease. Even a half-grin outshines some at their best; she'll take whatever she can get.

"Did I get you to lions, yet?"

[worthallthis]

A nod. "Gave one to Eleven." They make the executive decision to do something easy first, though. It's bird-folding time, eyes focused down and expression going intent on making the paper folds just perfect. They'll still listen if she talks, but it's a good way to not need words.

[shadowsran]

That is noted, and she endeavors not to distract too much.

"You've taken to it real quick, you know."

[worthallthis]

They tilt their head just a little, not looking up from their paper but showing signs that they're paying attention. "It's soothing," they answer after a moment, halfway done with the crane. It doesn't seem particularly impressive that they learned how to fold paper into shapes easily. They've mastered much more complicated skills in the past, under much less pleasant conditions.

[shadowsran]

"Not everyone thinks so, you know. Plenty boring to some people. Easy not to have a knack for."

Which is just fine. She's quite content letting it be as close knit a hobby in Beacon as possible. Wide as his social circle has seemed, she - appreciates keeping what she can separate. Their Hobby.

[worthallthis]

The Soldier finishes up the bird and sets it in front of Misty, feeling better already. Words come a little more easily. "Other people are missing out, then. What else can you make." This one coming out all right makes it conceivable to try something new. If they can't do anything new with regards to a handler, at least they can do something new with paper.

[shadowsran]

"Mm...Frog, if you're feeling up to it?"

A moment is taken to turn over and admire the bird properly, appreciate his successful efforts, before stretching for more paper. "Weird, but impressive-looking."

[worthallthis]

"I like weird." They've come a long way from refusing to admit to liking anything, just a month and a half ago. "I'll try."

[shadowsran]

"Do you, now?"

Amused, she begins the initial folds with the usual allowance of visibility and speed that demonstration demands. He's quick on the uptake, but it would be no excuse for poor teaching. "You'll do well, full confidence, c'mon."