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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[ The person with Sora's face isn't going to move, actually. He's going to watch that chair carefully, not even considering dodging as it connects with his face.

It will, uh, knock him the fuck down, because that's what chairs fucking do when they're swung at people's heads, but he'll lie there on the floor, wheezing out a laugh, holding the side of his head. If he didn't have his cyborg durability, that would have knocked him clean out. ]

Jesus fuck, Bozo the clown here wants to party. [ And in a move that will make the bartender spirits hate Sora for another two years at least, he'll close his eyes, pause for a couple of seconds, then kick up two, three bursts of wind that knocks the furniture around him into a rough knee high barricade, clearing the space out. He doesn't really know if String Bean here was caught up in that, and he doesn't care. He just needs a second to get back up on his feet - which he does, rolling into a crouch. And he watches Rosinante carefully. He needs to make sure that he doesn't do that again, if only because that does, in fact, hurt. ]

[The impact is hard enough that it cracks the wood of the chair. And for a moment, Rosinante feels a pang of regret as the guy just drops to the ground. Yes, he'd wanted to hurt him, but he doesn't really know how much some of these new people can take, and the goal is definitely not to leave permanent damage.

The laughing means either he's all right or he's terribly wrong but before he can investigate, his question is answered in a whirlwind of furniture. Rosinante turns sideways, sheltering his lantern with his body, presenting as small an obstacle as he can (which is hard, he's quite large), and using the remnants of the chair as a sort of shield. Under his own power he might be clumsy but against an onslaught like this he stands with his feet firmly planted - though sharp edges battering him hard will leave bruises that will likely be with him for quite a while. Somewhere in the mess his hat goes whipping off into the wind and across the floor - he'll have to recover that later.

When it seems like it's over, he ventures a look toward Sora with clenched teeth. Call him names, whatever, he doesn't care - he whips his arm and the now-mangled chair toward the door.]

Get out. We'll finish this outside, and then you're cleaning this up.

[He'll give him half a second before he starts forward, ready to physically drag him out the door if he has to.]

[ Oddly enough, the damage there was meant to be much, much bigger. He runs through a mental check-in with his spells - why didn't Salvation work? - only to find information about which spells do work here, and don't, and specific reasons why. After all, Sora did spend the blizzard testing his spells in an effort to be helpful. He was very meticulous about it.

What the fuck is Beacon? Why did it nerf him?

His eyes flutter open as Rosinante interrupts his thoughts, then narrow as he processes what he asks. Huh. Interesting. Someone who expects a bit of courtesy from him.

He gets onto his feet, opens his stance, and... lifts a hand, thumb to ear and pinky to mouth. ]

Uh, hello? Officer? Yeah, hi, I just wanna report that a, uh, clown prison escapee? Wants me to care about property damage? Am I good? [ A slow grin spreads on his face. As Rosinante stalks forward, he backs away, continuing his skit. ] Nice.

[ He pretend hangs up, presses a kiss to his fingertips, and blows a very large, translucent bubble into the air between them. It drifts slowly, not unavoidably, but will start to move toward Rosinante. If Rosinante chooses to push it aside, that will be a somewhat bad idea. If he chooses to let it hit something else, it won't be as annoying to him personally, but things will still pop off, and it will still be something of a bad idea. ]

Yeah, they don't give a fuck about you either.

[He has zero idea what the fuck Sora is miming and doesn't really care anyway. Sounds like a snail phone call, but what's with the hand? Doesn't matter, the bubble is more of a concern.]

Assholes and your magic.

[He mutters, not really meaning anything by it, he's just pissed off that it exists. It doesn't follow any of the rules he understands, doesn't seem to come from anywhere in particular, it just is and today he hates it. But hatred and anger don't mean completely wanton destruction and rather than smashing the bubble, he steps around it as he continues to go for Sora. Probably not a great idea to mess with unknown magic by touching it, and Sora is his real target. He leaps - without tripping this time, such is his focus - over a collapsed table and swings his broken chair again at Sora, not caring if he connects or not so long as it either herds him towards the door or sends him flying at it.]

You're just here to ruin everything we've worked for, aren't you? Fuck off. Go jump in the lake. You're a waste of our resources.

[ The bubble will float on, then. Nothing to worry about!

He'll open his mouth, then close it. He's still backing off, but he knows he'll hit the edge of his own barrier soon, so he chances a quick peek back in order to clamber on top of it, facing Rosinante. All ready to get whiffle balled. ]

You know what, Jeffree Star? Hard same. Magic is bullshit.

[ He's going to get hit again, but this time he'll raise an arm and hook it around the broken chair, allowing his metal bones to absorb the shock as he pulls with the swing, attempting to pull Rosinante down with him. It's a pretty messy way to go down - that will bruise even if there aren't any broken bones - but Skyler's counting on this swing being just as strong as the last one. He's not exactly sure where they'll both land, but this guy seems really worried about the infrastructure here? He's wishing on some really expensive table or something.

Meanwhile, the bubble completes its path and bumps into a barstool, where it pops. And then multiplies into two and pops again. And then four, and then the spirits on that side of the room are trilling as they're juggled around by the explosions of the balloons crowding their bar. It's a sight! They won't be harmed! It will just be extremely loud. ]

Edited (formatting) 2020-01-23 02:56 (UTC)

[Very annoyingly loud on top of the crash as Rosinante goes down just as Sora had hoped, sending them both tumbling into the pile of furniture and pieces. Rosinante hadn't quite expected the guy to still have so much strength, so much of an ability to fight back physically after that first hit, not to mention a second. It's rather like the stone spirits he and Soldat had to fight, actually, which reinforces their thoughts they'd had at the time that something about this place has made them weaker, for both had expected to smash right through the creatures, rather than having to resort to a grenade.

What hasn't changed is that Rosinante is as durable as ever. Scrapes and bruises aren't going to keep him from getting right back up and trying to physically haul Sora outside by the shoulders, as their fight has slowly moved them toward both the stairs and the main entrance, away from the bar.]

Hope you like carpentry, since fixing this up will be on you. Get out.

[ Yeah, Skyler's not counting on that working a third time. He's not sure what this person's packing, but he swings just as good as any network member he's met, let alone his fellow cyborgs, let alone a normie. Double the durability of a normal human being only counts twice, after all.

Still, there's the property damage. As far as he's concerned, that's mission accomplished. ]

What do I look like, Jesus? [ He's going to get hauled, man. Getting hit twice with a chair isn't a good time for anyone. He does have a bit of juice left for one more spell, and as far as he's concerned, he's not going to need it to beat this guy's ass. (Or, well, get his ass beaten. Honestly, both options are looking kind of appealing at the moment.)

He could just use the last of his magic to freeze this guy's feet to the ground or electrocute him or something, but that sounds like a strategy. Skyler sort of figures he's having a really fucked up dream at the moment, though? An extremely painful one with very specific rules, but uh, what else explains a seven foot clown?

So, uh, anyway, fuck strategy, he's going to fire off one last bubble as he leaves, giving the spirits inside two good old birds as it floats away to juggle more furniture inside. If he's going to get dragged out, he wants one last show before he gets beaten to death by a d-list mime. ]

[The loud explosions do achieve one thing - rather than dropping Sora out the door, Rosinante heaves with the aim of throwing him as far as he can. Maybe not as far as he expected if those cyborg parts are particularly heavy, and nothing quite like throwing people bodily out upper floor windows as he's had to do in the past, but it's nothing careful or considerate.

As he steps out, he slams the door behind them. It is bitterly cold out here and maybe it'll do them both good. What the hell has gotten into him today? He hooks his lantern onto his belt so he'll finally have both hands free in case this idiot still wants to throw down.]

I hope you're prepared to spend the next several weeks fixing shit in there. You didn't have to go that far.

[ Yeah, they're pretty heavy, but Skyler's kind of on the short side, even if he did grow a bit during and after high school. He'll go ahead and tumble, letting the impact against the winter ground finally shake him out of the daze of getting hit by the same chair twice.

Huh. It's cold out here. It was summer in his last memories awake. Interesting.

He'll finally roll onto his ass, spit into a nearby patch of snow, then wipe his nose and mouth with the back of his hand, checking for blood. Just a bit, probably from a split lip or something. Curable. Not worried about that. ]

Why not? I'm either dreaming or in hell. Or, like, clown prison, but like I said. Hell. [ He looks around, spots the lantern at his hip. He'll pick it up, looking at it curiously. ] Why's hell so fucking cold, though? Thought there was supposed to be, like, fire and shit.

Fire? Where the hell have you been?

[Despite his complete confusion at Sora's reaction, he can't help but snap back irritably instead of trying to question what's going on. He gestures widely to the snow around them, which seems to glow faintly in the light of the bonfire. That's the one good thing about winter - the ground being white means things are just a little bit more visible than they were previously.]

We just had a blizzard a couple weeks ago. And fuck off with the clown thing!

[Just gonna put that out there. One more comment on his makeup and he can't promise he'll be able to restrain himself right now. It's been a long time since he's felt so angry and he wants nothing more than to let it all out, but has just enough self-control to keep from actually crippling someone. Probably.]

[ Skyler shrugs. He's been out, man. Not that he's really up for explaining that to America's Next Top Model here. ]

That'd be Christmas in July for me. [ He pauses, shuts his eyes. ] Yo, yeah, that was the month. Huh. Nice.

[ Anyway, what's much more interesting to him is both the way Pagliacci here wants to keep whatever the hell place this is from more property damage (which, uh, okay, sure?) and how he immediately circled back around to the clown thing now that they're outside and any destroyable furniture is now relatively safe. He gets up onto an unsteady crouch, gauging whether this shithead is gonna swing again or not. He'll try that stupid dodge roll thing once. He's not proud. ]

Yeah, okay, but! Now that we're out here and baring our souls and shit, do you mind telling me why you're eight foot fuck all and out here looking like you got into my sister's make up drawer, dunked your face in, and uh, snorted? Something going on there, Yao Ming with a face beat for the gods? What, you ugly or something? Did you think that that [ He gestures at Rosinante's face - just, like, all of it ] was gonna fix it? Really?

[Okay well clearly he's one of those that fixates on what he perceives as a sore spot and continues to agitate. Why the hell did the portal have to pick up someone like this? They'd been so fortunate, barring a few individuals, but even Bi-han mostly keeps to himself.

This one he doesn't know what to do about, and in his current state of anger the only solution that comes to mind is to persist in trying to knock him the fuck out. Maybe the others can intervene after. Tie him up, convert an old building to a jail until Sora agrees to behave. With him crouched low like that, the only way to hit him would be to kick him, but he also looks ready to dodge, and seems to have the mobility for it when he isn't just standing there taking chairs to the head.]

Get lost, you piece of shit. I don't have time for this.

[Rosinante feints forward, looking for an opening to send his boot into his stomach but not committing until he knows what this idiot is capable of. And maybe he'll just run off and go cause havoc somewhere else now that they're in the open anyway.]

[ Skyler will actually start at that, going a few full steps backward, watching Rosinante's feet. He supposes that he'll probably end up either getting kicked or punched in the back of the head, but at least it's the only the one guy to keep track of. It's not like back home, where he's usually the taller one hovering over some freshman with a dire lack of respect. Skyler had had other people with him at the time - friends, for the lack of a better term. You know, back when he had them. Oh, how the turn tables. ]

I am lost, James Charles. What next? I am waiting, bitch. Blast my ass. [ He chances a look up... and sighs. ] God, the work you put into that. Must feel like shit knowing that that won't trick anyone into thinking you're anyone. All that effort just to look like trash. At least it's good advertising.

[Were it any other time, any other lantern color, Rosinante would just shrug off the commentary about the makeup. It's obvious bait and annoying but not enough to usually goad him into the sort of anger he feels now - most comments about himself don't, in fact. He's far more susceptible to the mistreatment of other people than any insult to himself.

But today is not one of those days. Today he has had enough. He discards the remnants of the chair in favor of a long wooden plank, a remnant of a bed frame used in barricading the tavern during the last siege, and swings it in the air menacingly to test the weight and balance of it as he steps forward, eyes locked onto Sora's.]

You really are a worthless piece of shit. Can't believe I had any faith in you contributing here.

[Suddenly, he bounds forward, wielding the plank like a sword as he slices through the air at Sora's chest.]

[ Skyler is extremely lucky that he happened to be looking up at Rosinante's head rather than his feet - he would not have been able to see that plank coming, and that swipe would probably would have taken him to church for the first time in at least two years. He'll stand up, shakily - two chairs, twice - then retreat back, outside his range. Phew, pool noodle here has got some range on him. Seven foot motherfuckers are clearly no joke.

He does, however, underestimate this guy's speed. The retreat is enough to get him out of Rosinante's range, but he does have to overstep, putting him right back on his ass again, and this time he doesn't get to have a second to preempt whatever he does next. He's either going to have to block or take it.

Neither thing precludes him having an opinion, though. Unfortunately. ]

Holy shit, you're really just opening and closing your mouth like I have any idea what the hell's coming out, huh? I'm new, fuckaroo. If you were expecting fuck all from me, you need to stop before you hurt yourself.

[If he were feeling specifically murderous he'd stomp down on the guy while he's on the ground. Crush his ribs, or his neck. But he's not, thankfully - he'll aim to injure, for sure, but nothing more, even in his fury. He strides forward, again covering ground rapidly on account of his long legs.]

All I expect is for anyone, new or old, to not like a complete fuckwit and destroy a place we all rely on! But you couldn't even do the bare minimum. Fuck off!

[As he arrives, he swings his leg in an arc upward - a kick intended not to crush bone but to catch him on his bootheel and punt him off into the snow somewhere.]

[ A block it is. Skyler will throw up his arms in the way Helene taught him to, but it's much too little and a hair too late. The foot will catch both the cross of his arms and terminated as his nose, sending him into the nearest snowbank. It is as cold as fuck in here.

After a moment, Skyler will crawl out, feeling his nose. A little blood. It's not like his cybernetics extend to his nasal cavity, after all.

He won't sniff, but he will just glare at this guy, a little feral. He's had enough of waiting for his magic to come back - he wants to punch this guy in the face now. ]

I'd tell you you hit like a girl, but that'd be a lie. Every girl who's ever hit me has fucked me up harder than you.

[ And this will be his only real offensive move of the night - twice as fast as a normal human, twice as strong, metal bones, still fairly fucked up but giving it all he has because he figures that that won't kill this guy, given what little he knows of him. Just a straightforward punch in the gut. No strategies, no funny ideas, no feints. Skyler's not really crafty enough for that. ]

[Another really goddamn weird thing to say, considering he knows of plenty of very strong women. Some of the most powerful people in the world back home are women. It's something kids might say when they're young and immature, before they get taken down a few pegs by someone's angry grandmother, still as strong as she was in her 20s.

Not that he has any time to reflect on it. Sora reminds him of some of the superhuman types back home - counting himself, though he's not exactly anywhere near the peak of human ability, considering he never mastered the use of haki. Is that what this kid has? Rosinante tries to turn but doesn't back away otherwise, figuring he can take whatever fisticuffs Sora can deal if he hits, but that punch is seriously strong and he staggers back a few steps rather than staying firmly planted in place. But the stagger and a slight wince are all Sora gets. He walked all over Minion island full of gunshot wounds. He can handle a solid punch, and quickly retaliates with another kick, as it's by far the easiest way to hit someone so short.]

I've heard enough of your bullshit, kid.

[And he's sure he'll hear more shortly but since Sora seems unwilling to back off, or surrender, or anything like it, Rosinante is coming around to the idea of having to keep going until he knocks him out cold.]

[ Man, if only someone would knock some sense into him on that front. That's neither here nor there, though.

Skyler thinks he's got this figured out by now - keep low, stay small, don't let string bean get a hold of him - so he puts an arm up to let the leg glance off, then throws in another jab. It's lighter, faster, more of a test run to check his range without his fire (lame) or his spark (LAME) before he pulls away, panting a little. Rodeo clown doesn't play, he supposes. What has Sora been doing this whole time?

Wait. What has he been doing? ]

It's BOGO season bitch, or whatever, hey, listen, if I have a knife in my back pocket that I don't remember being there before, and if I stab you with it, will little health bubbles and shit come flying out? Is this that kind of dream? [ And he pulls out a knife from his back pocket. ] Oh, nice.

[ And he'll launch himself at Rosinante with this knife that no one's ever taught him how to use, and he doesn't even think about trying to engage any muscle memory Sora may have gotten with it - after all, wussy boy has his key, why does he need a knife - and what I'm saying is that this is gonna get telegraphed a mile away and Rosi has all of the rights in the fucking world to end this in any way he likes, because a knife doesn't make you invincible, even if Skyler likes to think he is, sometimes. ]

[Rosinante has zero clue what Sora is babbling about. On any other day he might worry for the kid's mental health but right now he's certain it's some sort of Earth-local coded bullshit series of insults. References to things he can't possibly know, used specifically for that reason. To make him feel like more of an outsider than he already does; to isolate him as something other than everyone else.

Which is true, actually, all of that. Usually he quietly accepts it. Right now, he can't stand it. So much of the anger he has toward Sora truly is a result of anger he feels toward himself. Maybe that's all this is. He's kept it contained for so long that he has to direct it outward before it consumes him.

He's well-prepared for the knife, after it's not only spoken of but then flaunted. Rosinante does still have the plank in hand, even if he's hesitated to use it, but now he swings it full force for that knife hand in an aim to not only disarm him but injure him badly enough to make picking it back up and wielding it a pretty useless idea. A knife-wielding destructive idiot is a problem for more than just him, it's a risk to everyone in town. This is, indeed, muscle memory, and from a trained career soldier. He doesn't taunt back, he simply strikes.]

MotherFUCKER--

[ That arm would have broken if not for the cybernetics, and - and, yeah. It's out of commission at the moment. It's nothing a Cure spell won't fix, but it's also something that Skyler hadn't expected? Knives made you invincible. Knives are real, cut things up. Knives beat everything but guns on the streets. It's the first thing Helene taught him, back when she was teaching him how to fight.

She also taught him how to run from a fight when he was clearly outmatched. Or if someone got the jump on him. "Do not be a fucking hero, pisshead." God, he misses Helene.

She isn't here though. This is a dumbass dream. And fuck it, he wants out.

One more punch then, with his non-dominant hand, wreathed in fire that he knows and doesn't care is mostly useless in this weird, rules-burdened dream, and hopes he wakes up from whatever this clown throws at him because it is fucking COLD and he knows that Kotetsu hates it if he oversleeps and makes them both late to work, even if Kotetsu says he doesn't hate it and usually forgets that he was even mad by the time lunch rolls around.

He misses Kotetsu, too. Why does it feel like it's been so long since he's seen him last? ]

Just - fucking - DIE -

[They're both going to come out of this worse for wear, huh? He does try to sidestep the punch, figuring the slight glow of those flames might be something to do with his unusually tough body - some sort of magic, or haki, or maybe even some strange technology. It's not something he really wants to be hit by. But in the process, his luck catches up to him. He stumbles backward over his own feet and manages to turn it into a diving roll as Sora catches him across the side anyway. He uncurls a few feet away from where he was hit once he loses momentum and sits up into a crouch, clutching his side. Fuck - he hates how there's no padding other than clothing and bandages now over his ribs. That shit stings.

But despite the insistence, he's certainly not dead, and from his crouch he lunges forward, trying to gut punch the guy in the same motion.]

You're tougher than you look, I'll give you that.

[Was that... a less angry retort? Maybe the fight has let enough out to bring him a few moments of near-clarity.]

[ Why isn't he dream dead yet? He saw that one movie, with the spinning tops and the dreams and the hallways in zero-g. You get a kick, you wake up. He's gotten his fucking kick. He's gotten kicks, punches, two chairs, probably some crushed muscle tissue with a hint of a concussion back when he crashed them both into that table, why in the fuck won't that stupid French opera lady sing and wake him the hell up?

Unless. Of course. You know.

He probably could have dodged that punch, but realization hits a little before Rosinante's fist. He wheezes, doubling over Rosinante's arm. Wake up! Wake up, you son of a bitch! If this is a dream, this shouldn't matter, right? His hands scrabble up, trying to find a collar, a shoulder, hair -

Skyler's going to grab onto something in that general vicinity, and he's going to try something. He'll look up and look at this weird clown in the eye, trying to look for some truth in all of this, eyes skittering around Rosinante's face, trying to gauge if his stupid fucking imagination is powerful enough to make up something like this, and for the first time in his life he hopes it is, because otherwise this isn't going to wake him up. And he has got to wake up. He has got to wake up.

So yeah. Rosinante can see it coming and throw him off, but Skyler is going to do his level best to concuss himself by rearing back and smashing his forehead into Rosinante's. He isn't sure what else will wake him up anymore. ]

[This is too much close contact, even for a fight, and he's not down for all this being climbed on. As Sora grabs on and then rears back, Rosinante's hand shoots forward and wraps around the side of Sora's head, grabbing him by the hair, and rather than extracting him nicely he tries to shove Sora face-first into the snow beside them.

Brain freeze, though, maybe that'll work. Either way, Rosinante rolls aside and pushes himself up onto his feet, ready for more but seriously hoping this is about over.]

What the hell is wrong with you?

[ He's just gonna go down. And stay down. And forcibly not think about the progression of events thus far, because he's pretty sure if he steps off this little island of reality he's stuck on, he's not going to like the world outside it. ]

Listen. Knock me the fuck out. Right now. Or else I'm gonna go back in there - [ And his hand will make a vague wave in the tavern's direction ] - and start murdering Keebler elves. Like, pop their little heads off like dandelions. And then I'm going to figure out how to burn this entire place down to the ground.

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