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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[ It takes a second, honestly, for Ellever to realize that she's supposed to pick an option. She was expecting to just scrounge. Anxiously she runs a hand back through her hair. ]

Oh, um. Stew? Stew is fine.

[ Whichever the least fussy option is. It sounds like the stew's already accounted for. Which, in itself, is an intriguing thing. ]

You cook, huh? A good skill to have around here. I can make... grilled cheese. That's about it.

[ A few other things, but honestly, they haven't turned out well so she doesn't mention them. ]

[The Soldier ducks to get bowls out of a cupboard, but her admission about grilled cheese gets a smile-- a bigger, better smile than the one before.]

That was the first thing I learned. Grilled cheese. I didn't even know what it was. Couldn't figure out how you grilled cheese without it making a melty mess.

[They straighten up and head to the stove to ladle stew into both bowls.]

I only learned anything about cooking since I died.

[ Ellever finds the nearest place to sit down, chuckling quietly when he talks about not knowing about grilled cheese. Her father doesn't know how to cook, either, other than slapping two pieces of bread and some fixings together; it runs in her adoptive family. ]

Since you died... here? Wow, you learn fast. I've tried to look up videos on the internet but, uh, I usually burn everything.

[ It's her attention span that's her downfall, more than anything. Cooking can be dull. Reading isn't. Sometimes she can force herself to focus, but usually she gets absorbed in an article on the internet and — there goes that. ]

I guess you must like it?

I do. It's defined steps to an expected outcome. It's soothing. Plus then you get to eat something afterwards.

[They bring one bowl-- full of thick broth, soft-boiled beef, potatoes, carrots, and onions-- over to Elle. The other they keep. Because the Soldier wasn't kidding when they said they tend to eat twice as much as anyone else. They're just about always hungry, particularly now that they're not sleeping.]

It requires patience and attention to detail. But I'm programmed with both those traits.

[ When the smell of the stew passes underneath Elle's nose, as she accepts the bowl, she starts to feel a little hungry. Maybe she's just overwhelmed, she thinks, and her body isn't quite functioning right. Who knows.

She offers him a smile, though partway through she tilts her head in curiosity at... how he words that phrase. ]

Thank you. ...you're programmed?

[ Does he mean he learned them? Or is he being literal? She's too curious of a person to let it go. ]

Yes.

[The Soldier leans back against the counter to eat their soup.]

Aziraphale and Crowley call it brainwashing. I suppose. Programming feels more appropriate.

[So casual and calm, they are. Talking about this doesn't remotely bother them, it seems.]

[ Ellever's bowl is untouched for a moment as that sinks in. Brainwashing. Programming. And he looks like they're talking about, oh, a tattoo of his or something. Something casual. That's... that's something, all right. ]

...oh.

[ What do you say to that? Suddenly she wishes she had more of a grasp on social behavior with other people. ]

I'm... sorry to hear that.

[ Is that what you say? ]

[The Soldier shrugs, shovels some stew into their mouth. They're a polite murder machine, though: they wait until swallowing to answer.]

I'm dead now. They aren't here. And my handlers in this place are much better.

[For the most part, anyway. Eve is confounding and dangerous, but Misty and Javert are the best handlers they've literally ever had.]

[ Tentatively, she takes a bite of stew as he swallows his own, trying to wrap her head around someone being so cool and casual about their own (apparent) brainwashing. Ellever has a million questions instead of whatever else someone more tactful might say, like maybe changing the subject. ]

You've got handlers here?

[ That sounds Bad, maybe? ]

[She won't be the first person to think that, nor the last. The Soldier shrugs again.]

The Asset requires handlers for instruction. Otherwise I can't figure out things to do with myself between missions.

[And, because they're aware people get weird about having handlers, they add, with an obvious though not very good attempt at being reassuring,]

It's okay, Misty and Javert are good ones.

[ The Asset. Okay. She can deal with that as a name until she gets something else. Ellever cants her head to the side. ]

Well, I'm... glad you have good handlers, in that case.

[ If it's necessary and all that jazz. But Ellever's still trying to wrap her mind around not knowing how to function when there isn't a clear... goal? What constitutes a mission? So many questions she doesn't feel like inflicting on him. He's been so nice. She should make an effort toward politeness. ]

I don't think I've ever said that sentence before.

[They offer a look that is definitely apologetic, but without a lot of stress behind it. Their history is a mess, and at least they know it. It'd be a lot worse if they were a person and had to deal with everything that comes with that on top of sorting out everything else.]

Sorry. I know. It's weird to people. You don't have to think about it if you don't want to.

[Ironically, they'll answer pretty much any question she'd want to punt at them. There's a few they'll avoid, but not many, and not ones like what she's thinking. The Soldier only barely has a concept of "over-sharing" and rarely applies it to themselves.]

[ Ellever shakes her head with a tiny, almost surprised laugh. ]

No, it's fine. You don't have to apologize, by any means. [ She has another bite of stew, shrugs. ] I live in Weird Central and always have, I'll get used to it. Whatever works for you, works for you.

As long as you're okay. What do you mean by Weird Central?

[It's an invitation for her to change the subject to something more comfortable for her (or so they'd guess), a means of distracting her from thinking about their own weirdness if she wants it, and curiosity.]

[ She pauses thoughtfully, wondering how much she should say. There's an NDA back home to prevent Zier Security employees from spilling the Facility's beans. And then there's the little detail of no one believing it. But here... ]

I work for my dad's security company. But we also... take in strays, I guess you'd say. Unusual people. Creatures. They live at the Facility with me, to keep them safe. So it's just all weird, all the time.

[The Soldier looks up from consideration of a second helping of the stew. Something about that twinges a little, gives them an echo of HYDRA. Collecting unusual people and creatures. Keeping them "safe".

They have to ask:]

Stay willingly? They can leave if they want to?

[ Ellever is quick to nod. ]

If they're people, sure, they don't have to stay. It's just a nice place where we can all... let it hang out, I guess. We can all be weird together and we don't have to worry about what anyone thinks. Our purely human employees have to sign NDAs.

[ Then, she's forced to shrug. ]

But we do have a couple of exceptions? Like the bunyip. I mean, it's 25 feet long and it was eating people. That's why we had to catch it in the first place. It's about as intelligent as a seal. But it has a nice aquatic environment to live in and we feed it restaurant-quality meat. Sometimes I toss pool floaties in and it plays with them.

[Animals are okay. The Soldier can handle keeping dangerous animals contained. The twinge smooths out. Now they're just curious. Is she from Earth? Surely they don't have animals like that on Earth.]

You have a lot of animals like that?

[ She considers a moment. ]

Not a lot. We have a good amount of space at the Facility but not as much as, say, a zoo. We've got the bunyip, Fuzz, the wendigo. [ Ellever pauses, trying to figure out how weird that list is for someone else to listen to. ] The wendigo's our most challenging resident, we have to do a lot of shit to his enclosure to make sure he doesn't get out. He's about fifteen feet tall, including antlers. The Fuzz is our moth, he's... about the size of a car. But he's the nicest resident we've got, he likes to be petted like a cat.

[ As she describes the Moth, she smiles, and then feels a pang in her chest. She misses him so much. What she wouldn't give to have him around here... ]

That's. A very big moth. Was he dangerous, too?

[Bumping into lights and knocking them over, maybe? What else could a moth possibly do to a human? Even one that big. They don't exactly have teeth or anything.]

When we found him, he was half-hatched out of a man's corpse. We think the females lay eggs in people to incubate them, but we've never found a female ourselves to... verify. [ Ellever pauses. Yeah, finding a female is low on their task list. No one wants to have eggs laid in them. ] But no, he's not typically dangerous. He can push people around if he wants to, because of how big he is, but it's usually just because they got in between him and his food.

[ Generally he just wants to be around people. And bright lights. Ellever would never say, but she likes reading to him when everyone else is out of the office. ]

Sounds kind of cute.

[Look the Soldier has slightly weird ideas of what counts as cute. Their owl-headed spirit-friend who turns their head 360 degrees is cute. Creepy murder children are cute. So are giant bumpy moths, whether or not they hatched out of formerly living human beings.

They consider a moment, then add,]

Except for the eggs thing, maybe.

He is cute.

[ She's a very biased source, and she knows it. Half the employees are still scared of the Fuzz. But her view of cute is more along the line of the Soldier's, because she's never had puppies or kittens or anything like that. Just giant moths and bunyips. The bunyip bridges the line of cute, though, since they like to eat people given the chance. ]

I met him on one of my first successful expeditions to find real cases behind urban legends and myths. I was pretty young at the time. No one really knew what to do with me, being out there in the spooky woods and excited about it. [ Ellever's smiling fondly at the memory. ] And then I found... well, I mean, he looked exactly like what the legends described. The Mothman, I mean. But it was really just Fuzz, hatching out of someone. Took a while, too. I do feel bad about the poor guy who had to go through that, he seemed to be mostly alive at the time.

[Not what the Soldier expected to hear. Still alive, yikes.]

Did the man survive?

[Not that they have any idea what the "mothman" actually is. Aside from a moth-man, they suppose.]

[ A pause, then, ]

No... We did try to help him. But an insect coming out from your core and then infesting you for weeks on end is... a lot for the human body to take. That's where the Mothman legend came from, we think. An earlier person. Fuzz didn't just burrow out, he... ate his way through, slowly.

[ Ellever chuckles nervously. ]

Sorry, we're trying to eat and I'm talking about that.

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worthallthis - 2019-12-16 05:20 (UTC) - Expand

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