EVENT LOG: TURN THE LIGHTS OFF

[inthenightmods]

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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Comments

[policier]

And what will you do if you hear the spirit procession? It's not as if you can flee.

( He sympathizes. If the shoe were on the other foot, and Javert was the one stumbling through the woods, he would react the same way. He despises idleness — that's one of the reasons why he began patrolling in the first place. Because it gave him something to do, and did not allow for him to think about the myriad of issues plaguing his mind.

He huffs a bit, and concedes, though he doesn't look too pleased about it. )

If you truly insist on this foolishness, then you should have someone accompany you.

[worthallthis]

[The Soldier has an answer for one of those things, at least. They patrol twice a day; they've heard the music before, and know how to fight it. They dip into one of their many pockets and show Javert their home-made earplugs, just melted wax that they'd formed to their ears. They fit perfectly. Just swing up into a tree and close their eyes for a while. It's do-able. Uncomfortable and awful, particularly right now, but do-able.]

Yes, sir. If you want me to. I can call someone to partner with.

[Not expecting Javert to suggest, of course. He's just finished his own patrol, he needs to eat and rest, surely.]

[policier]

( He still thinks it's a foolish idea, with or without the earplugs. If the Soldier had continued to disagree with him, then Javert would have continued to argue. He accepts the suggestion well enough, though, although it doesn't seem as if the inspector is pleased about it. When is he ever? )

That will take too long. Many of the people here are no better off than you. You will hinder each other. I will accompany you instead.

( He does need to eat and rest, but he's gone longer without before. During the food shortage, and at the barricade where he was tied to a post for a day and a half with no food and little water. He can manage. )

[worthallthis]

Thank you, sir.

[The Soldier doesn't hesitate, though they would like to, for Javert's sake. Instead they pull out one of their snack packs-- little fabric bags full of things like nuts, dried fruits of various types, chips and cereal-- and offers it to him. (Or, well, in his general direction. Everything curves the wrong way.) Even if he can't rest, at least he can eat.]

You haven't had any troubles? Nothing changed in your body or mind.

[Lucky Inspector.]

[policier]

( He looks down, noticing the bag in his hand and declining it with a shake of his head. The last thing he wants right now is charity, especially from a man who is much worse off than him. )

I am fine.

( He mutters, both in response to the offer, and the question. )

Don't misplace your concern.

[worthallthis]

[More for the Soldier, then. They have a handful to chew before putting it back in a pocket. They start slowly back along their patrol route, letting Javert keep pace. It won't be hard. As long as they go slowly enough, they can keep going in a more or less straight line-- Javert's footsteps crunching in the snow to one side actually help, given them a non-visual reference point.]

Anything on the route to be aware of? Since yesterday?

[policier]

A tree fell near the museum.

( That's about it. Other than lanterns, and the madness that's been spreading through town, it's been quite an uneventful day. The spirit procession has moved on, to a spot where Javert dare not follow. He doesn't walk as fast as he normally does, if only so the Soldier can keep stride with him. )

Were you not in such a bad way, I'd suggest that we go and cut it into logs.

( Some other time, then. )

[worthallthis]

[Taking a critical survey of their current level of skill, recalling missing the carrot and hitting a finger when trying to cook the day before... they decide that's probably smart. The last thing they need is to take a saw to something that's not wood, on accident.]

As soon as this goes away. It will. These never last.

[After this many months, this many events, they know that nothing here lasts. It's the only thing that keeps them remotely positive.]

[policier]

It's strange, isn't it? I cannot but wonder what could be the cause.

( It's not as if some of them died, and their lanterns were repaired incorrectly. Could this truly be a temporary anomaly, or could it last much longer than a few days? He frowns as he considers it. )

Why is your lantern affected and mine rarely so?

[worthallthis]

[Because their player is more mean to them, probably. The Soldier's somewhat disgusted answer is simply:]

Magic.

[Look, they don't understand magic, and while it probably has rules, they don't know enough to figure them out. Maybe Daylight's tea party with the lantern-maker will shed some light on things, but Daylight had asked for secrecy until the meeting was over, so they can't say that.]

Maybe it's because you have a stronger mind and can resist it more easilt.

[It's only a guess. But Javert's got the kind of willpower a fairly broken Soldier can only dream of. (Oh, shut up, pal. You ain't responsible for what happened.) The Soldier pointedly ignores that.]

[policier]

( Javert huffs, not only at the first explanation, but also the second. He should take it as a compliment, but after what has happened to him in the last month, he hardly feels as if he is in complete control of himself. )

Were that true, I would not have harmed you when we sparred.

( He does not take compliments well, obviously. The next bit, he says in more of an undertone, )

Perhaps it is because I am already far too broken.

[worthallthis]

[The Soldier does not snort. The Soldier does not scoff. They do not even give Javert a skeptical look. They want to do all of those things, though, and if it were Crowley or Sora, they might have.

What they do say, with patience and respect and a little surprise, is:]

Sir. You are not broken.

[Conflicted sometimes, maybe. Suffering from guilt. But still a good handler, and capable of great compassion.]

And that was healed within two days. Not sure that counts as harm.

[policier]

Still.

( He feels guilty about it. He's ashamed at himself for not being able to better control it. Perhaps he should be relieved that it was only the Soldier that he hurt, what with how resilient and strong he is, but he isn't. Javert cares about him, and it is that caring that makes him feel irreparably broken. )

That is how I feel. Surely you of all people must know that. It is difficult to recognize myself, at times.

[worthallthis]

Yes. Hard to recognize yourself when you don't know yourself.

[Ask them this again in a couple days, after the incidents with the Asset and one Bucky Barnes... going to be even more pronounced, then. Though at least they haven't internalized that "caring" means "broken". It was the not caring that was the problem.

Maybe it's the vertigo, maybe it's the confession that Javert feels badly still, but they are feeling bold enough to ask:]

You don't know yourself?

[policier]

I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

( His voice dips to a hush. It's not something he's spoken of often, not even to his closest friends. No one else would understand, not like the Soldier would. Perhaps that makes it easier for him to admit it, and once he begins, he continues, )

There's the matter of the World Eaters, but what do I do in the meantime? How do I know whom I should trust, and who I should not? I'm unused to having so much downtime, and time to think.

[worthallthis]

[Hearing their own complaints coming out of their handler's mouth almost causes vertigo, on its own. Christ, real people feel like that, too?]

Down time is. Hard. I try not to have any.

[They pause a moment, shut their eyes against the world trying to flip on its head. Opening them, it's a little better again.]

Can't help you on the trust thing. I'm not good at that. But there's less down time. When there's more to learn and practice. More people to help and protect.

[Of course, the Soldier is a true extrovert, and loves people and being around them. Javert... is not. Still, things to learn and practice might be helpful? What kind of hobby might a former rigid French policeman enjoy? (Origami? Hell, Kuai liked it, maybe.)]

[policier]

I serve and protect everyone in this town. Is that not enough?

( He isn't going to mention his other myriad of issues. If he can find a way to distract himself, that would be enough. Javert cannot stand to be alone with his thoughts. Self-reflection is a torment, and he's been avoiding it as much as possible. )

Chess has proven a reliable enough distraction, but it is not something I can do on my own.

[worthallthis]

Can't patrol all day, every day. I've tried. Feels kinda stupid.

[There was a time in the beginning, before Beacon's known area started to expand, before classes and cooking lessons and people who insisted on spending time with them, that Soldat was doing four patrols a day. They've fine-tuned their routine now to only include two patrols, which they feel is a perfectly reasonable amount, now.

There's a game, though! Soldat knows the name. Chess. They can't remember the rules, only that there's knights and tower things?]

Don't know how to play chess. But if you wanted to teach me. Could do that. And I remembered poker. Card game. Or folding paper. Kuai liked when I taught him that, and I find it soothing.

[They are completely on board with distractions, Javert. And helping, obviously.]

[policier]

( If Javert could patrol all day, every day, he would, and he has. It was the only thing he could do to distract himself, those first two months in Beacon. There were plenty of people hanging around on rooftops and vandalizing property for him to yell at. )

I could teach you. I have only just recently learned it myself.

( As for the other suggestions, Javert frowns. )

Folding paper into animals?

[worthallthis]

This.

[They might happen to carry their first ever creation around in one of their many pockets. They fish it out, stopping to do so as the vertigo swells when their attention attempts to split.

Sitting on the metal palm is a small crane, in bright red paper, the folded edges a little soft because of how old it is, but still clearly a bird with wings, beak, and tail.]

Misty taught me, first month here. Origami. I can make a few different animals.

[policier]

( He looks curiously at the paper crane in his hand. It's something he's seen before, months ago, during that godforsaken party that was supposed to draw the spirits' attention away from the lighthouse. )

I see. ( He says, a bit solemnly, and then, ) Daylight made me one. It was shaped like an iris — a fleur-de-lis — but it had been destroyed.

[worthallthis]

He would probably make you another, if you asked. I have some of his paper flowers. From Christmas.

[Now the Soldier wants to ask Daylight how he made it, maybe he'll show them how.]

It's good. Doesn't use a scarce resource, and if you do need the paper. Can just unfold again. The folding is. Calming.

[Good enough to help bring them out of a panic attack or the horror of a nightmare. Never thought we'd see the day when origami is the Winter Soldier's primary coping mechanism.]

[policier]

( He's not going to ask for another even if he did like it. It's a matter of pride more than anything. He doesn't want Daylight, or anyone else, to think him soft, or easily bought with trinkets. He huffs a bit at the suggestion and grumbles, )

What use would I have for such things? They serve little purpose outside of their visual appeal.

( It sounds frivolous. Javert's not quite embraced doing things for the sake of his amusement yet. )

[worthallthis]

It isn't the thing itself, really. I don't keep them, most of the time.

[Really, if they did, their room would be pretty full of little paper animals by this point.]

It's the process of making them. It's like sharpening a knife or hitting a target perfectly. It's satisfying.

[policier]

( Javert still looks a bit skeptical. There isn't much that brings him satisfaction outside the performance of his duties. Shining his boots and polishing his buttons makes him happy. He sincerely doubts that folding paper would, but considering Soldat is the one offering, he sighs a bit and concedes. )

If you insist. I will at least attempt it.