logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: TURN THE LIGHTS OFF

EVENT LOG: TURN THE LIGHTS OFF

characters: everyone.
location: around town.
date/time: january 20-29.
content: the lanterns begin to malfunction.
warnings: body horror and psychological horror. please cw tags appropriately.

you'll become one

January 20th arrives the same as all the days before it. There's no great pulse of warning that throbs through the air, no ominous wind that causes the bonfire to shudder. The spirits are neither agitated nor do they hide. You could almost miss the change, if the lanterns weren't always by your side. There's no explanation that comes with the way that it's changed, but it's impossible not to worry when it's happened so suddenly.

Maybe it takes a few days, or maybe it only takes a few hours, but suddenly it isn't just the lanterns that have changed. You, yourself, have become somehow different. It's possible that you won't even have the right state of mind to wonder how long it will last. At the very least, it appears you aren't alone. All across Beacon, lanterns are changing, and changing the people with them.

Out in the distance, the lighthouse's beam has turned green.

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1. Red; CW: Body changes

Tall) Truth to be told, she didn't even notice that her lantern has changed color. The glass of the lantern is usually purple, so most of the time the light it emits is dim, color passing as unnoticed. It's after she gets in a scuffle with one of more violent spirits and makes her way back from the museum towards Downtown, that she feels pinches all over her skin. She rubs it vigorously and frowns, her step still confident.

She catches up with a shadow of a person relatively close by in a few leaps, thanks to her wings, and she calls out. "Hey. Have you noticed something weird about bushes?" She rubs her hand again with a hiss. "I wonder if I caught something..."

Grande) It's a day later that the scales start to show. Her wings are the ones most visibly changing, along with her ears, and there are some purple, fish scale marks around her face and under her eyes. She ducks inside of the church, hoping to keep her whimpers to herself. They are heavy, ripping at her back muscles and digging into her skin. Slowly they are becoming much heavier, heavier than herself, to the point she drags them along the floor. She falls between some of the benches with a painful groan, not even looking around if there's anyone else in here. She just wanted to sit down and rest her back.

2. Blue; CW: Violence

Venti) It doesn't take Xayah much to get angry in general. She was always easily provoked, having started more barfights than she has years on her. So when her lantern changes color to deep blue, she notices but doesn't give a damn about it. So she stalks around the well-known streets like some kind of predator, waiting for one wrong word to set her off like a heavily strung crossbow. She pauses by the Bonfire, giving it an annoyed stare and then approaches it.
"Maybe it would be better if we all just die; if the bitch just resets us all. The pain will be brief but there will be no more this endless torture in the dark." She turns around and looms over the first person sitting nearby. "Wouldn't you agree?" She's definitively looking for a fight, the narrowed slits of her eyes are more than proof.

3. Green; CW: Madness?; Death talk

Grande) The more her lantern glows green, the more she feels urgent to find something, someone familiar. Rakan, Rakan... Was she always this lonely? Did she never make a friend before? She didn't need them but maybe she did? "I'm a rebel I don't need anyone," Xayah keeps muttering to herself, stalking towards the docks with a glazed look in her eyes.

"A rebel... killer... murderer... I was, I was..." She tilts her head as she looks at her hands- they feel weightless. As if they are not hers. "Kill, kill... yup. It's what I did... for my people, I killed. Revenge was sweet," she concluded with raised eyebrows. "Maybe I shouldn't have. But they killed us too... a lot... so much blood..."

Xayah keeps talking, mostly to herself and still staring at her hands as she approaches the frozen water. There's someone already there, and whether she knows them or no, she approaches and asks out of the blue, "You killed before, didn't you?"

Sora will turn back, his own golden white lantern hung from a clip, bumping against his leg. He hadn't really noticed anything weird going on at all! He'd simply been in town to check on his friends and maybe see if the Librarian has any new book recommendations for him.

"Xayah! Long time no see." He frowns, thinking about it. "I haven't been in the bushes lately. Are you okay?" He moves closer, giving her a onceover... He can't see anything off yet. "What were you doing in there?

Xayah likes to patrol around and fly- it gives her wings some exercise. She didn't plan to run into any trouble though, it's usually very calm on the edges of the forest that surround the Beacon. She wonders where that wild spirit sprouted out from.

"Ah, Sora." She tugs her armguard up more and squints at her hand very closely. "I don't know. I think the bushes gave me some kind of rash." A very weird rash. It's purply, small dots all over hand. "I've never seen something like this before."

"Wow, nasty." Sora peers at it. According to his completely uninformed medical opinion... she needs a dermatologist. "I don't know how to fix that - I don't think I know any magic that can. Maybe the general store has, like, anti-itch stuff? I can walk with you there if you like."

He hasn't noticed the change in her lantern - for the most part, he does remember the way she looks when they first met, but it's been a while! He assumes it's always been that strange pink.

"I know..." she hisses. "If I die because of rash, I'll kill every damn spirit I run into." Or so she says. She made a threat like this before when the spirits not so kindly killed her, and yet she still tries to somewhat cooperate with them. When it comes to creatures like that, she might be too soft.

"Yeah, I should take a look." Maybe see if there is some kind of healer around. Crowley once tended her sore back because of wings but she didn't see him around. Probably asleep somewhere. "I mean, you can come if you're not busy." See, she's learning to be a nice company to humans.

He winces at her dramatics, but scratches the back of his head. "Yep, I can come! I'm headed that way anyway. I wanted to check in with some friends."

And he'll fall into step next to her, maybe keeping a not-so-subtle eye on her to make sure the rash doesn't get any worse. "Maybe don't kill all of them? Causing a war aside, I like the Librarian a lot. And I'm still trying to apologize to the ones at the bar."

"Hmmm... I'll think about it," she says in a light tone. She doesn't mind the Librarian and the General postmaster. Her nails are still picking at the odd stuff on her hand as they walk, although idly now because it itches. But it doesn't look like it's spreading... yet.

"Did you know that Postmaster General has a crush on Librarian?" Gossip isn't her thing, but she thought this was cute somehow. "Why, what happened at the bar?" A bar fight? Can she join? She'd love to join.

In about five seconds he'll put on a mom friend voice and tell her to stop picking so she doesn't start bleeding, but he'll leave it for now. The gossip is pretty juicy!

He turns to her, mouth open. "They do? Yooo, what? I hope they make a move by Valentine's Day." He is on the case! First off: figuring out if the Librarian's interested at all...

... He shakes his head. "Just some stuff. It's embarrassing." It was three weeks ago by now, he just wants to move on. He does wish they'd let him apologize, though.

Xayah chuckles, tugging the armguard over her hand so she's not tempted to pick on whatever it is that either bit her or scratched her.

"Keeper organized some kind of picture hunt few months back. One was to get a picture with a letter. Of course, I went to the Postmaster General and he gave me both the picture and said letter to take to the Librarian." She was their matchmaker that night. It was kinda cute, she won't lie.

"I mean, if you need some skull bashing, I'm in. If my profession wasn't a rebel, I'd be a professional bar brawler." Whether she's serious or no is up to debate.

He makes a whooping noise at that, spinning in place in the street. The Postmaster's got game! "A scavenger hunt, huh? Hope you won! That's some good karma. They actually let you read it?"

Sora looks at her, shaking his head very hard! "Nonono, no, don't, it was my fault." Honestly, if anyone deserves a skull bashing, it's him.

She chuckles, "Well, everyone that sent a picture got something in return. It wasn't much but it was fun and distracting for a while." And then she smirks, "They... didn't really let me. I peeked when Librarian opened it." She raises her hands in defense, "I was curious!"

This kid's funny and gets a playful ruffle from her. "Alright, alright. But if you ever need a back up for bar brawl, hit me up. I have, perhaps, too much experience in it."

"No." Sora looks both affronted and desperately jealous. He'd want to do the same thing, of course, but he would have felt way too guilty. Xayah, you're a brave one. "Xayah, oh no, what if it was personal? It WAS personal! I can't believe it." He's laughing, though. He knows she didn't mean any harm. He's got a lot of faith in her.

Bar brawls, huh. "I'll hold you to that, but I'm not about to start any bar fights." He has no way of knowing that this is exactly what he will be up to in less than six hours. "It's still hard to imagine you starting trouble, though. You seem responsible?"

"I didn't see much! It was mostly pictures and I saw some drawn hearts, nothing else!" That's how she knew it was a love letter and not something else. Though, he might need to check that faith he has in her; she's not always this mild-tempered. Sora is just an exception.

She falls silent at that, arms wrapping around her body as wings shift to protect her from winter wind like a cloak. "I am... or I tried to be. I have a bit of a reputation from where I come from." She shrugs, "And I'm fine with it. The cause was worth it." Becoming a rebel and a war revolutionary for her people was one of the better decisions in life. The others include dating Rakan and visiting Aphae waterfalls.

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arsarcanum - 2020-01-25 00:47 (UTC) - Expand

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featherknives - 2020-01-26 19:15 (UTC) - Expand

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arsarcanum - 2020-01-26 21:33 (UTC) - Expand

This isn't exactly the Soldier. This is late in the week, late in the event, and the Soldier's lantern is green as well, covered in spiderwebbing cracks kept hidden by closed shutters. This is the Sergeant, and he looks at her with startled eyes, for the question. And for the feathers. (Okay, not the weirdest thing in this place, but still damn neat.) And also because she's familiar. While he is sort of in a flashback state, expecting to be on the front of the war rather than in Beacon, some people are still familiar.

This is one of them. So he answers without being too much of an asshole, because he thinks he'd rather not upset her, even if he doesn't clearly remember why. "Well. Yeah. It's a war, sweetheart. That's kinda the damn point."

She's not really good at reading people's emotions but she can read their reactions.

"Why are you looking at me like that? I didn't grow two heads," she bites then lazily slides across the frozen, shallow water, the claws on her feet making it screech and crackle.

"Also, sweetheart? Really?" She's not impressed. Pausing a few feet in front of him she tilts her head. Did he get a fever or something? In any case. "Yeah, war... everyone loves it for some reason. Why would they leave in peace and harmony when they can have war? Is it thirst for blood? Power? Power is fickle, it betrays you. Humans never learn that."

Well, damn, that wasn't polite enough. The Sergeant is out of practice with being charming. (Probably all the medical experimentation. Heh.) "Sorry, ma'am." That's better. "Ain't been talking to a lot of ladies lately." Especially not ladies with feathers. It's a neat look, honestly.

"I promise you, though," he adds dryly, "I'm no lover of war. It ain't done me any favors." All he can be pleased about, really, is that Steve is well out of it. "Mostly it only helps out the ones on top, not us poor bastards who gotta actually fight in it."

No, it was definitively polite enough and that's what's putting her off. The Soldier she knows is... not like this. She squints at him. "...No? Y'sure?" Because she remembers vividly talking to him a lot.

Her look darkens then she laughs, shaking her head, "Are you agreeing with me just because I said it? You, humans, had started it all first. Rich or poor- it didn't matter, both hated us- and hunted us until we were almost all gone. You guys really have no measure."

She turns back to him and looks over the frozen lake. "And because of you, I'm no different. I became a killer. A good one, the perfect one. A rebel during the war, a criminal once it's over."

"I don't know where you think I'm from, doll, but my war don't have any people with feathers in it," the Sergeant says. "It's all human against human. Not that you don't got a great look, wouldn't mind havin' somebody with wings on my squad."

He shrugs wryly. "It's what peons like us do, I guess. We kill people. At least I ain't a criminal yet, but who knows, maybe I will be. Depends on who wins the war, in the end." And he's not convinced their side winning is a sure thing, just yet. Not with HYDRA's weapons decimating battlefields.

Peons. Right. She squints at him suspiciously; while she might be feeling a tad bit weird right now, she still has some wits about her to tell her that this guy isn't the guy she met. He acts as if she never met her before and she's not insane enough to believe that crap.

"What's your name, Soldier?" she asks, eyes zeroed in on him, slits narrowed in attention. "I make sure not to forget people I fight with or against." That's true only halfway- she doesn't really care for the names of her enemies, only allies.

"Call me Sergeant." He's already noted he cannot remember his own fucking name, and worked out how to handle it. Then, giving an apologetic smile, he adds, "There's somethin' tellin' me I oughta know yours, I just can't remember it. Unforgiveable, I know, but you might hafta help me out a little."

"Sure. It comes with the territory." An offhanded agreement, and only because Xayah already knows what she is. And because maybe, it might make her feel better to know she's not alone.

Of everyone in Beacon, Carmilla probably is closest to liking Xayah. It's probably the only reason she navigated toward her, after witnessing more than enough people under lantern effects. She's not here to try and be anyone's support system, and she likely wouldn't be any good at it, even if she had any interest. She probably won't be much help to Xayah, either, but as she hears the idle mutters about her past, she doesn't want to just ignore her. Maybe she does have some compassion left knocking about in that black hear of hers, but if anyone pressed her about it she would most certainly deny it.

"You were at war. You did it to protect. There's not much moral highground in murder, but doing it to protect someone is better than not having any reason at all."

She only hums, her gaze still a bit off as she stares at the lake. Whatever she sees there is definitively not real. Some faded memories and still a lot, a lot of blood. She didn't expect a positive answer, even if she phrased it to sound like she did want one.

"It shouldn't have felt good... but it did." Her eyes narrow at the Lighthouse that's still blaring that green light in the sky. She bursts into laughter that's a mix of maniacal and sad. "My entire tribe, more than five hundred of us, disappeared while I was gone. Not a drop of blood, not even feather left behind. As if the earth opened up and swallowed them."

"So I killed... all of those that settled in on our soil and built shadow temples to suck out magic and life from the forest. I left no one alive and it felt great. It shouldn't though, right? It's murder..."

"Why shouldn't it feel good?" Her voice is a bit different from her usual disinterested drawl, miles away from the situation and the person she's talking to. This conversation is already hitting a lot closer to home than she ever expected it would. "Why shouldn't it feel good to hurt those that hurt you, who hurt the people you love? Of course it feels good. To take the power back, and prove whatever they did to you, it didn't break you. It only made you stronger."

That might be speaking from personal perspective, though it is a relevant one. She's had these same internal battles, whether she'd admit it to anybody or not. And while Carmilla would never tell anyone she's a good person, she also thinks that there are very few morally good enough to never lift a finger against those that sought to destroy something they loved.

"I just wish that feeling lasted a little longer. The guilt always creeps up on you eventually." Mmm, yeah, speaking from experience on that one.

Guilt... has she ever felt guilty for killing any of those humans that crossed her way? Xayah doesn't know; she never had much time to stop and reflect on it. It was a war, of sorts, that was going on- silent and deadly, creeping and spreading out like a plague.

"The guilt... I can't admit I felt much of that." Does that make her heartless? Inhuman? ...well, she's a Vastaya, half of her is animal spirit, she's not human all the way. Still, she wants to believe that she was capable of loving too, not just killing. Because she loved Rakan a lot... she did, right?

She sighs shakily, "What did you do when you felt that way?"

"Then I envy you." Guilt is a bitch, and despite what everyone has ever said about her, Carmilla has never managed to turn it off. Monster or not, she still hates herself for the innocents she's hurt and the things she's done. It was for survival, usually; or because it was what her mother bid her, and she either didn't question or was too scared to try. Looking back on it, she's got plenty of regrets to crawl up her throat and drown her. As much as she tries to ignore them, she can never entirely make them go away with her determined indifference and disinterest.

"When I feel guilty? I used to drink, or throw myself into whatever felt good to distract myself." Now, well... She's not exactly sober or abstinent, so she's still prone to those tendencies from time to time, but more or less her coping mechanism has changed. "Now I just live with it. It is what it is and trust me, dwelling on it won't change anything." So she'd much rather not dwell. If she can at all avoid thinking about it, then she will.

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EVENT LOG: TURN THE LIGHTS OFF

Xayah | League of Legends | OTA

tall red;

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