logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: DO YOU REALIZE? PART TWO

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EVENT LOG: DO YOU REALIZE? PART TWO

EVENT LOG:
DO YOU REALIZE? PART TWO

characters: everyone.
location: Bonfire Square.
date/time: August 18-19.
content: the party takes a turn for the worst.
warnings: violence, gore, character death.

"but if your lantern's too banged up to fix, you ain't coming back."

Late on Saturday evening, just as the party's hitting its stride for the night, the foghorn sounds. It's a frantic blaring, the deep, hollow bellows of the horn echoing over the trees in some approximation of a song, impossible not to hear from wherever you might be lingering this evening.

It captures the attention of the forest spirits, first and foremost. They drop whatever they're up to as soon as the first note strikes the air, and they listen. You listen, too, though any sense of understanding is lost on you. One thing is clear, though: the time for distraction is over.

•••
The tone of the party has changed, and not for the better. Before, the forest spirits at least seemed to be enjoying themselves, feasting and dancing, wobbling around and entertaining themselves. Now...

Now, the atmosphere has changed. There's tension thrumming through the air.

One's head snaps to the side sharply, focusing on something unseen in the forest. A few moments later, and others do the same: bodies locked in place, limbs frozen, they stare at something out into the darkness. Can you see it? Maybe. Maybe there's something out there... and maybe you'd better not attract its attention. Two pinpoints of green light, glimmering though no light manages to reach its body. It doesn't move, and neither do the spirits in town, but perhaps it's best not to disturb them.

A few aren't so calm. Mouths dropping open, the noises they emit range from low urgent clicks to desperate howls, but all give off a deep feeling of anxiety. Fear, verging into terror, claws digging into dirt and spirits skittering madly over buildings, limbs snapping erratically, the path of their movements understood only to themselves. They don't lash out at others, not yet— but there's a frantic energy to their movements which suggests something is wrong.

Good thing you're disguised as a spirit, isn't it? Although if you haven't gotten to that station yet, rotten luck. Maybe you better get to hiding, because right now it seems like the spirits aren't so keen on things that don't belong.

•••
Ah, but after that initial panic, the foghorn abruptly goes quiet. The lighthouse beam shuts off, too. The thing with the green eyes vanishes, and most of the other forest spirits have already fled or are still stuck frozen in town, but it's now that the others attack. Apparently not all of the spirits were won over by the party's attempt at diplomacy.

The hostile spirits attack with abandon, and can't be reasoned with. The only way to stop them is to kill them or detain them, although you could just wait it out and hope they move on soon. In any case, how you deal with the spirits is up to you. Feel free to NPC them in your own threads if you'd like to fight them or attempt to interact with the frozen ones, though the fighting spirits will continue to fight until dispatched and the frozen spirits won't snap out of it no matter what you do.

As far as what the expedition teams are up to, that's up to them. All expedition teams including the team that's with Winters are able to make it back to town to witness the chaos. What happened out at the lighthouse, though? The Winters crew will be sure to let you all know... soon.

And if you'd like to go after the spirit with the green eyes? Well, go ahead, but do so at your own risk.

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THAT GREEN EYED MONSTER

[ The change in the atmosphere is immediate, and even if Vanitas doesn't know what the foghorn means, he can feel that tell tale crawl up his spine. One spirit's head snaps to look toward the forest. Vanitas, his gaze follows it— and he finds what he's been expecting this whole time.

Fear surges through him, visceral and fast. He feels hot all over, like his skin doesn't fit the muscle, it makes the back of his neck prickle with sweat. With his helmet on, it disguises the way his eyes go wide, the way his pupils contract— it muffles the sharp intake of breath.

He doesn't have time to stick around, and maybe it's just luck that your character passes him on their way to go after that spirit. His hand slaps out to the side, and he grabs the middle of their chest, stopping their momentum entirely. He's not a tall guy, but there's a strength in his arm that's surprising for his size. When he turns his head to look at the person, their face will be reflected back at them out of his helmet. ]

Do you want to die?

WILDCARD
[ ooc; feel free to use this for any other things we may have hashed out for event purposes, or shoot me a pm/hit me @

scrubdaddy ]

[Jo hadn't actually been running after the monster. She was curious about it, maybe she was going to get closer, but she wasn't going to attack it. She hoped to see what it was, gather some information.

When Vanitas grabs her, she almost punches him on instinct but stops when she notices the helmet. That would only hurt her.]

No. I'm trying to look.

Then you're as stupid as you look.

[ He snarls back, and maybe on anyone else it might come across as compassion, but Vanitas is only annoyed by what he perceives as a lack of foresight. Of course, nobody else really knows what he does, about how dangerous these things can really be; but that doesn't stop him from projecting all over everyone around him. He takes his hand away from her chest, dropping it loose at his side. ]

Did the way these things react not give you a clue?

[ He jabs a finger at an overturned table, where one of the feral spirits has climbed, looking angry and rabid. ]

We don't know they're reacting to it.

[The foghorn sound could have been a panic signal. No one knows.]

And if they are we should figure out what it is! [They've been generally friendly, right? If something appearing could make the spirits go insane, they need to know about it.]

[ Even with his helmet on, the sneer is obvious in his voice. ]

You haven't met the ones in the woods. That thing is one of them.

[ To Vanitas, it doesn't matter if the spirits here are reacting to the green-eyed one, or if it's just because of the foghorn. Even if it's just the foghorn's fault, it still made them all lose their mind— which only makes the ones out there all the more dangerous. ]

If you get yourself killed out of curiousity you're of no use to anyone for the mission.

[Jo has never reacted well to people acting like they know what's best for her. A stranger doing it? She is not happy.]

We need to know. What do you know?

[ Vanitas laughs, a high, thin sound. ]

What are you going to do, ask it?

That'd be quite the development. Nobody else knows how to talk to them.

No. [She spits the answer, shaking her head. What an asshole.]

You can learn a lot by looking and listening. [Maybe it won't talk and she can't understand it if it did, but watching might reveal something.]

I'm not going to just stand here. [But, to her credit, she doesn't move towards the woods.]

Fat good that's done everyone so far.

[ Vanitas understands the good in it; that's how his Master learned much of what he knows. Biding his time, watching developments, understanding the motivations of his enemies— but these things weren't ordinary creatures.

He takes a step backward, gesturing out with the Keyblade in his opposite hand into the deep, dark woods where that monster disappeared. ]

Go on then.

You can tell us which part of you it dismembered first when you come back

I don't need your permission. [Jo shakes her head and takes off, though to her credit she doesn't move directly into the woods now. She takes off to the left before she heads into the trees.]

_{[This isn't like fighting off human opponents. This isn't like any kind of fighting he's used to. The spirits range anywhere from the size of a squirrel, to the size of a person, to even bigger, but the ones in a haze of aggression are no better than undisciplined dark ones when activated, viciousness directed at anything that moves.

And the one at the center of it all--

To an extent, the spirits aren't the only one giving themselves over to aggression. He sees the lesser spirits cowering at the same point in the forest, and his thought process is quite simple from there: if there's something out there that can frighten them like this, that's worth his energy, not these small fry. Fighting a threat makes sense to him when so little about this place does.

The arm stopping him in his tracks surprises him because he is at a run. A leap, really, having planted both feet on an oncoming spirit and rode it into the dirt, springing off it to continue on.]}

--What are you doing?

_{[At first glance, Vanitas seems no more than an unfortunate roadblock. The other's reflective helmet casts back a grim image: jet black eyes in a grim countenance, a look not unfamiliar to Vanitas after their encounter in the church.

Death? All he sees is an interruption.]}

Why'd you stop me?

[ Vanitas holds no compassion for this young man, because he holds none for anyone in Beacon. The nearest Vanitas can come to feeling something as warm as that takes the shape of something more hungry and obsessive. But that doesn't mean he can't recognize then use of other people, the asset their skillset can be— or the kindred shape another person takes. This guy might be the only individual in this forsaken town that matches Vanitas' darkness, and while that makes them far from friends, it reminds Vanitas of his other dark cohorts, and a desire for something, anything routine is what makes the glass of his helmet melt away to leave only the bracket framing his jaw.

Vanitas' expression is caught between derision and impatience. He gives M.K. a sturdy shove to to the chest, to make him back up. ]

You didn't seem so eager for death the last time we met.

Have you changed your mind?

_{[Impossible to mistake Vanitas for anyone else with those rough manners and uncannily strange powers of his, no matter how many people he shares his face with. M.K. doesn't think he'll ever get used to it--his way of making and unmaking things out of shadow. Considering his first exposure to said power had been getting ambushed by it in the form of the Unversed, he'd have every reason to be wary of it had they not come to terms since then. Vanitas hadn't been out to attack him specifically. So long as that remains the case he can forgive the other aiming his hostility wherever else he wants.

For all that, Vanitas couldn't deliver a better sucker punch than that observation. In the hot burst of surprise and chagrin that follows, he takes the shove without much fight. It's true, when push came to shove, he'd acted to protect his lantern from the Unversed without even thinking. He's still undecided how he feels about that. The reminder only serves to make the anger that riders ever-close to the surface in his dark state flare higher.

It's not even that Vanitas is implying he's weak, but that he's exposed a lie M.K. hadn't realized he was telling.]}

Neither did you, or have you forgotten?

_{[The lapse lasts only a second, and it's with a pure, snapping petulance that he pushes back, literally and figuratively, stepping forward to reclaim the ground Vanitas had shoved him back from. Had he not struck that nerve, he might've stopped to consider the friendly warning, but--

Oh. The pieces fall into place. Sensitive in many ways, M.K. is also observant in others, and those black eyes relax from their narrowed glower into a wondering sort of understanding.]}

You're afraid. _{[That's it, isn't it? His growing certainty takes on insistence.]} You're afraid of it, that's why you don't want to go after it. I'm right, aren't I? Why? What do you know about it?

[ Vanitas is shorter than M.K., but the size difference between them doesn't seem to matter. He just lifts his chin when the other boy steps in closer, jutting it out defiantly and staring unblinking into his face. It's aggressive, or defensive, but only because Vanitas is in this state of constant vigilance, ready to fight. It doesn't matter who he's battling, he's always prepared.

Even when the realization dawns on M.K.'s face, Vanitas doesn't falter. He doesn't flinch away from that truth, doesn't step back, raise or lower his guard.

After all, he is afraid. Not for anyone else, but for himself. Vanitas isn't consciously thinking about sparing any of these people the pain he went through, but the reminder of it, just looking at that thing— having fought the spirits he has, already, the stark reminders of what it felt like to be torn asunder— it's enough to make him act out.

But beyond that, the more people that die in some illadvised attempt to engage something stronger than them, the fewer they will have remaining to ensure the success of the mission. ]

It's stronger than you think it is. Those things in the woods aren't like these—

[ He gestures broadly at the spirits in the square, the ones that have gone feral. ]

_{[He doesn't have much of a successful history gaining understanding from looking into golden eyes. With the Master, it had always ever been more questions, more mysteries, which had infuriated him to no end. But he thinks he's putting the pieces together where Vanitas is concerned here and now.

Releasing their locked gazes, he cuts his to the side, over the other's shoulder. Transferring the weight of it onto the points of eerie green reflected light still hovering in the gloom. Still unmoving. For the time being, he pushes aside the confusion Vanitas' comment had managed to send boiling to the surface.]}

Is that what killed you?

_{[It's a guess, but one that feels like a square peg in a square hole. Vanitas in the church. Vanitas, so certain in his firmness.]}

[ Others have asked what happened to him, but nobody has asked quite like this. Maybe it's the way M.K. looks at him, the dawning realization as he puts two and two together. Vanitas' expression creases, his lip curling, like he's flinching from the words but refusing to back down.

He doesn't think it was that one, specifically. He knows he would have remembered those yes, the specific green shine of them. But it's the stillness, the way it stands, the threat that floods off the body Vanitas can't quite see.

It's the same— or one just like it. ]

One of them.

So that's it...

_{[It's all making sense. He's not someone who thinks in strategy, he thinks in terms of what feels right--and this grim realization feels right, from the ripple through Vanitas' fierce demeanor, to Vanitas protecting him from something rather than protecting something from him as he's been used to all his life...

Confirmation of the truth only lends weight to the conclusion. For all his strange power, this darkly dangerous boy fought and lost, and he doesn't want the rest of them charging headlong into battle with this new spirit.

Now's no time for pity, if he were even liable to offer pity for the no doubt painful death that had left Vanitas in the jumpy state he'd been in when they'd crossed paths in the church. He cocks his head, taking the warning into serious consideration even as a table splinters behind him with an explosive crack as a frenzied spirit barrels into it. There is a time for strategy, and now... might be it.]}

You think I'm not strong enough to beat it?

_{[Never mind that Vanitas has never seen him use his power but briefly. The question has the obstinance of a challenge to it--but if he wasn't asking for some manner of honest assessment, he would've already bowled his way past.]}

Edited 2019-09-17 03:23 (UTC)

[ Vanitas doesn't like to think others are stronger than him. Not because it isn't possible, he knows his power only stretches so far, but his arrogance doesn't let him dwell on it. The gold of his eyes carve over the other boy, going from head to foot and back again. It's not just derision, but there's a thoughtfulness in his expression. Is he stronger? Vanitas doesn't know. Their battle hadn't been long enough to really tell.

His eyes go back to M.K.'s and lock into place. ]

No. I don't.

[ Because Vanitas doesn't think anyone is. Maybe if there were only one of those monsters, maybe if they fought that spirit in a group— but Vanitas can already see what would happen. Those things had moved fast, and Vanitas could use the darkness to teleport. M.K. wouldn't stand a chance on his own.

Besides: he knows a trap when he sees one. ]

Not if it leads you to all it's little friends.

[ That's an exaggeration. They'd been anything but small. ]

_{[It hovers in the realm of a rhetorical question, and for the exact reasons Vanitas muses on--neither of them know the other, rendering an effective assessment moot.

But it seems to have an effect nevertheless. He stands unblinking with that inscrutable gaze a moment longer, and then relents, no more than a shift of weight on the balls of his feet, leaning back instead of toward.

Maybe this guy is like him in the nature of his power, maybe he's not. But often those people with dark gifts have been the only people in life who've given him an honesty he can depend on. Anyone else and he may have pushed them aside--but coming from Vanitas, of all people in this town, he listens.]}

Tell me about it later.

_{[A request--to learn more about these spirits that not even Vanitas is ready to face again.]}

[ It's enough, and when M.K.'s weight shifts back something seems to uncoil in Vanitas' shoulders too; like in the other guy backing down, Vanitas puts the safety back on, too. He cants his head up, though, and that assessing look is back in his expression.

He doesn't raise his hand to his face, but the black glass that melted away to show his face pulls itself back up untilthe helmet is covering his head again. ]

If we live through this, I'll think about it.

[ But Vanitas seems ready to leave it at that, because he turns away from M.K. and toward the yawning black portal he opens up on his left. He needs to find his group, and running through this mess is going to take too long. Without another word he steps through the corridor and it swallows up shut behind him, preventing anyone from following him. ]

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EVENT LOG: DO YOU REALIZE? PART TWO

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