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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[ That turns his head back. Oh, so she wants to play? Skyler thinks back, grabs one memory of this lady - oh, yup, that's good - and gets a carton of something from the fridge, opening it up to check on what's inside. ]

Funniest part about all of this is thinking about whether you're talking about me or him. Anyway! I don't need you anywhere. Frankly, I don't need you at all. If I needed a joke I'll think about how many times you musta called him "ivy league" when you actually had us pegged for bottom of the entire class? Which I guess is kinda pathetic, but on the other hand, it musta been fun for you, hm? How you got your kicks? How do you get your kicks around here, lady? Stuck in a kitchen?

[ Oh, is that how it's going to be? A part of her--the real part of her, the part that isn't pulled to get angry because of the lantern--knows, at least on some level, that Sora is right. Maybe he doesn't realize it (Midge hadn't realized it), but it's true, isn't it? Even a little. Sora never looked prim and proper, never like all of her father's students at Columbia. Had it been too cruel?

No. No, the bigger part of her speaks, mostly because rage is slowly filling her stomach, creeping up, the back of her neck flush and warm. ]

I'm in the kitchen because I choose to feed every single incompetent fuck here. You're--what? Purposely trying to rile up someone actively helping because you have nothing better to do?

[ Honestly? That she even knew at all that he was a piss poor student was a guess on his part. One part suspicion, one part projection, one part self-loathing. Hey, if he's gonna be a self-fulfilling prophecy, might as well get everyone else in on the train, too. Really lean into it.

Skyler will look back at her and sneer. Oh, she's mad, huh? ]

Ding-a-ling-a-ling, shit-for-brains - we're dead. None of us have anything better to do. And from what I got from upstairs, we are on a long, long, long train of equally clueless fuckups. [ He tosses the carton's lid on the counter nearby and actually looks at it instead of feigning indifference. Cottage cheese, he thinks. ] If you're here feeding a bunch of useless asshats, maybe you need to realize that you might be queen clown around here? Just a thought.

[ The problem is that there's no quippy zingers coming out of her mouth--it's intense, the flush she feels, the sheer, blinding white anger that gets her hackles. The last time she'd been this angry was when she'd found out her husband was living with Penny Pann. ]

Don't be ridiculous, clowns don't wear heels. [ Oh, she's got a bit of zing still in her, that's good to know. She crosses her arms, blue eyes bright. ]

You're going to want to get out of here before I'm going to do something I regret.

Oh, good, you're a trendsetter. [ And this is where a slice of a grin swipes along his face. She is mad. This is because he started talking shit. She's paying attention. Attention. Attention is good.

So he takes the carton and looks into it, peering with one eye like a prospector. ]

Oh, so I'm responsible for the shit you do now? Iunno, lady. Do I seem, uh, competent enough for that?

[ Midge laughs. It's an actual laugh, too--her nose scrunches up, and her eyes crinkle closed, and she leans back on a nearby counter, two hands delicately bracing herself on either side of her.

It almost looks for a moment like she's going to pounce, petticoat and flared dress and all. ]

You're damn right I'm a trendsetter. [ No one looked better than her, worked harder than her, had a life more perfect than hers. Even after everything fell apart, she was a force to be reckoned with. ]

And now I'm stuck here with you--it's cottage cheese, you fucking idiot!

[ She wants to fight. Good. Skyler's been itching for something to flare this time, too. He won't hurt her, he's not a monster, but he does want to see how bright this ember will go before the entire bonfire catches. He's leaning in, both in metaphor and moment, like watching a car wreck go past on the highway.

He'll look at her, then at the cottage cheese. That strikes a bark of laughter out of him. Damn, what a live wire. Under different circumstances, he'd almost like her. ]

Oh shit. Really? I thought it was floor wax. [ And, uh, in the words of the inimitable Lonely Island, he holds eyecontact and tips the carton out of his hand, letting it fall it mouth first to the ground. Splap. ]

Edited (wrong metaphor) 2020-02-08 00:03 (UTC)

[ Oh, so this punk decides it's that sort of game?

It's like a switch has been pressed the moment the other throws the food on the ground. All of the rage, all fo the annoyance, it's completely gone.

If Sora wants to be treated like a child, then Midge will put her hands firmly on her hips, chin up, and use the exact voice she uses when Ethan is misbehaving. ]

Pick that up.

[ Her tone is chillingly calm. ]

Oh, shit, my b. [ Mom voice mode is a little scary, not gonna lie - hey, he's all right with his own mom, but Mama Veracruz was tempestuous herself - but he swerves out of the initial cringe by... actually getting on a knee and reaching out to grab that container, scooping up a bit of the mess as he rights it. Wow, that's a sloppy mess.

And then he'll fake butter hands it, aiming right at the hem of her dress. Hup, hup, oh no, his face telegraphs. ] Oh no. Watch out.

[ Miriam Maisel wears dresses like some wear armor. Every morning is spent painstakingly taking care of herself--taking care of her hair, her makeup, her clothes, spending ages trying to match shoes and purses and accessories. She's a fashionista, perfectly coifed, perfectly groomed, perfectly perfect, and she's never been anything else.

She has control over her appearance. No one else does but her--she has her own choice of what to wear, how to look, what type of energy her looks can give off to other people, to family, strangers. She chooses her lipstick like war paint, because external forces are hard to navigate and hard to predict: sometimes life throws a curveball, sometimes your husband cheats on you and leaves, sometimes you wind up with a lantern in a town filled with darkness because you've died and you just have to pray that your kids and family are going to be alright, but fuck, you can at least look your best to help you get through the day. She can't control other people, but she can control herself, and that's important.

Sora--Skyler?--gets something on her dress. Midge's composure turns ice-cold as she back hands him as hard as she can, right across the face. ]

[ As for Skyler, he's been slapped only twice in his life. The second time hurt less; penance for giving his mother lip, asking her to get the god damn degree if she cared about it that much, asking her why she was so invested in a fuck-up on his scale when Milo was scraping by in his room at an engineering masters that would never manifest if he couldn't fucking open his door to look at other people. At least he had the respect to tell her to her face that he wasn't trying. Maybe she'd be better off in facing reality: that starting a family was a waste of everyone's time and money and she'd be better off taking the money she'd wasted on putting this family on life support and investing in a real good exhaust to window pipe, the kind that wouldn't leak --

And scene. One stinging cheek and a hastily packed bag later and he was out. It was better that way. He'd needed to make sure that she'd never look at him again. Ari would be fine without him. If he was going to die, mind squeezed into a bitter point and swept away, replaced with someone else, better to disappear in shame than burn out in misplaced glory.

The first time was deserved. Holly Avalon was a very brave girl who loved him beyond what was wise. She knew that putting herself between him and two boys he would have murdered without a second thought would save their lives in the moment. The hand-to-cheek punctuation was more of a reminder that his heart was forfeit in the process.

He considers that one a gift, in hindsight. She'd grabbed his hand and stormed out of that closet without looking back to see if he was okay. She knew he was. She hadn't let go. What else could he be but okay if she was still holding on?

Sora fucking promised. He'd looked Holly in the eye, held both her hands, repeated her invincible spell with her. Everything will surely be all right. He said he'd be there to meet her at the extraction point. He'd promised.

He'd promised he'd fix this. He promised that one day he'd leave, and Skyler would be free.

Asshole.

He has no idea who the fuck Miriam Maisel is, but if he'd toed a line and gotten this far, well. He's already in hell, right? Might as well give good measure a shot. Move him up a ring, maybe. Get some fuckin' lights on in here.

He stands up, wiping his mouth. No blood, but hey. He knows the drill. That wasn't the point, right? ]

You liked that? [ He looks at her quite seriously. ] Do it again.

[ Midge watches him, still cold, expression unreadable until she smooths her dress out, looking at Sora like he hadn't just said that, like his be behaviour wasn't absolutely disgusting. Miriam has surpassed the hot rage she's felt building up--it's a calm rage now, the white part of a flame. ]

I want you to leave.

[ It's not a suggestion. It's a command, voice oddly calm. She's talking to Sora like he's a combination of her husband and her child at the same time. ]

[ He opens his mouth, starts trying to needle her again, trying to get that furious hackle back up... but he kind of got what he wanted here, didn't he? And it's not like she's special. To get overly invested in winning here means he cares about what she thinks of him. God forbid that he care about anything. (He doesn't like to think he cares about getting slapped much, either. He doesn't want anyone having that kind of power over him again.)

He got that emotion out of her. That's enough. (Besides, it's not his style to antagonize a chick too much. Again, he doesn't consider himself that kind of monster.)

So he leans back, face impassive, hands up. ]

All right, officer. Whatever you want.

[ And he'll shuffle his way to the exit, idly kicking the container of cottage cheese just out of the way - no more funny business, just getting it out of the way, even if it does spatter a bit - before slouching out the door.

(He resists the urge to jump at her just one last time, just to see her jump. He's had his fun.) ]

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EVENT LOG: TURN THE LIGHTS OFF

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