logsinthenight | 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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"Was that supposed to make me feel better?" Crowley says, glaring at the human soldier person through his sunglasses. "Painful or not painful, you still died."

Not that Crowley cares, he reminds himself. He has other things to worry about, other things to focus on. Getting Aziraphale awake, figuring out a way to stop the monsters attacking them, maybe getting Xayah to talk to him again. Definitely not focusing on the gnawing upset of losing the human soldier person in such a sudden way.

They can feel that glare. The usual desire to duck and soothe wars with the need to keep the gun ready and senses alert. The latter impulse wins, narrowly. Can't shut down in the middle of a potential war zone, and it's still a ways across the square to get to the Invincible.

They look away, so at least they can't see Crowley's expression. "I'm sorry. I didn't see another way."

Crowley softens. Which, he supposes, is what's gotten him into this situation. He's so incredibly soft. He doesn't want to scold the human soldier person, he doesn't want him to apologize. He just wants him to be safe.

"Just don't go blowing yourself up again," he says, sniffing. "Or putting yourself in ridiculous danger like that. They'll all come back as well as you will, no need to go dying to save them."

"I only have two more grenades, anyway," the Soldier says. "Have to save them for emergencies." They look at him sidelong, but he looks a little less glare-y. So they tell the truth: "But you know I can't stop protecting people. Protecting you. Even if it's dangerous."

Crowley lets out his longest, most put-upon sigh.

"Great, so now I have to protect you from protecting me? Do you understand how much work that's going to be? And protecting you from yourself?"

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't flattered. There aren't many people----just one, really----that Crowley thinks would actively protect him if needed. And sometimes Crowley really does need protecting, if he's honest with himself. Not as much as Aziraphale, of course, but the angel is currently comatose, and they have no idea for how long.

"It's my job, Crowley," the Soldier says blandly. The kind of bland that Crowley would recognize by now that means they're not being entirely serious. "Protecting you. If you're going to pick up that job, too, we might have a problem." This is much better than Crowley being pissed off at them.

"We could flip for it," Crowley says, producing a coin from his pocket.

"Heads I get to protect you, tails you get to protect me."

The human soldier person doesn't need to know the coin has two heads.

The Soldier is not stupid, Crowley, come on. And the "trickster" role is pretty clearly yours in all things, even friendship. "Uh-uh. You won't make a bet unless you're rigging the result. Either you'll use your magic on that. Or it's a fake coin."

"What, you don't trust me?" Crowley says, blinking at him through his sunglasses, all innocently.

"Not when you look at me like that, I don't." They're just about back at the Invincible, now. "No deal."

They stop at the steps up, turning to face Crowley. Their expression is blank, but more in an "I'm not sure how to express what I feel" way than an "I am hiding what I'm feeling" way. It's been a weird half an hour since waking up from being dead. "I know what you want, Crowley. I appreciate it. But I'm built for this. Even. Even Before HYDRA, I think I was built for this. Protecting. The past week has been easier than the past three months."

"I'm not built for this."

Crowley doesn't protect. He doesn't know how to protect. He barely knows how to fight, though the knows he must have done in the past. But demons don't protect people. They hurt people, they disrupt their lives and lurk in the background, ready to pull them into Hell whenever possible.

And yet here he is, protecting. Trying to, at least.

"I'm still not going to let anything happen to you."

Considering how few people have ever actually wanted to keep the Soldier safe... it's still strange to hear that he wants to. Being cared about, worried about even, is still new and not quite pleasant. It doesn't feel deserved.

So they sigh, half-smile, meet Crowley's eyes for a beat, then motion with the gun to the Invincible door. "Inside, Crowley. I need to get a new jacket. And to ask around for what happened while I was gone. Maybe once this is over, I can show you how a few ways you can help keep me safe, too." It's not like he's useless; the fight with the dogs proved that. He's just erratic, and the Soldier doesn't know enough about his abilities to work well enough with him. It's like everything else: it will take practice.

EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

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