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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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You know.

( ambrose snickers but is genuinely pleased by the news. )

That's really good, actually, especially in a place like this. I'm glad for you both. I hope it works out. I mean that.

Actually--

[Quentin's smile falters, and he grows serious for a minute.]

It's not? It really fucking sucks sometimes, because him being here? That means he died up there. And not too long after I did. I spent almost a year making sure he'd live and he just didn't? We don't even know if any of them are ever going to wake up, but. What if they don't? What if this is how it is now?

Whatever this is, Quentin, it's a second chance.

( it's giving them something that they might not have had before. )

You know how many people get those? Very few.

I know. It's-- yeah, I know. I know I'm fucking lucky to get this.

[Lucky beyond his wildest dreams, that Eliot wanted him back. That everything that Quentin had to give up and sacrifice was enough to get Eliot his life back, even if this place pulled him here soon after. At least Quentin had bought him a chance.

He's been trying to do that same thing here. Searching through every lead that comes his way, to find a way to get Eliot out of here. He tries very hard to think about what he'd do, if Eliot refused to leave. Coughing, Quentin changes the subject inelegantly and he raises his eyebrow at Ambrose, lips twitching in to a small smile.]

I'm just naturally worried, I guess. I mean, right now? I'm kind of worried about what kind of bag you think will go with your face?

All bags go with my face. It's just how my face is.

( he frames his face with his hands and grins widely. )

What would make you worry about that?

I just-- what if you pick the wrong one? And it makes your face look like a troll's face?

[Quentin can't help laughing softly at the framed face and Ambrose's antics, and he rolls his eyes.]

Yeah. Like that, what you get a bag and it makes your face look like that?

The fact that you think my face could look like that...

( he trails off and tsks quentin. )

My face will never look like that unless and I get cursed and if I get cursed, you better find a spell to reverse it and save me.

Right. Yeah, I'm really good at saving people.

[Sarcasm. But still, though. He would try.]

So, what you're saying is that you're just naturally pretty? That's just the,uh, state of your face. Sure, why not.

Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying.

( because it's true! )

You going to argue otherwise?

No. No, I wouldn't dream of it.

[Quentin holds out his hands in surrender]

I've learned not to argue when I know I've already lost it before I've said anything.

See, you're a smart man.

( good job, quentin. )

Come on, let's get to where we're going before we end up something's dinner. I am terrible undigested.

Uh huh. I mean, yes. I really am.

[Until Brakebills, Quentin was used to being the smartest person in every room he ever stepped foot in, but learning about magic changed all of that. And the parts of him that wasn't smashed up and spit out by magic or the Beast, the Key Quest or any of the million little things in between, had been put to the test here.]

I already am walking as fast as I can? So, unless you know a spell to put wheels on this thing, shut up and just lead the way, boy wizard.

Boy wizard?

( he repeats it a few times before snickering and nodding. )

You know, I'll take it. Follow me. We'll get there.

You know, like Harry Potter? Because of magic?

[Quentin flails his hands around to explain, smiling a little.]

Except you don't really have a wand. I am, just go already. Jesus, so impatient.

EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

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