EVENT LOG: DO YOU REALIZE? PART TWO

[inthenightmods]

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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Comments

one.

[consecrates]

[ davina's first instinct upon hearing the blare of the foghorn is to run, the lantern hanging from her messenger bag rattling.

it doesn't matter if she has the ingredients, the materials for a spell. it doesn't matter if her ward is capable of holding people or things back even for a few moments; who even knows if it would work on them? there's something about that sound that rattles her bones, sends a chill down her spine the same way the ancestors in their realm terrify her. and while she can't see the danger just yet, she knows it's coming.

she follows the path back to the town, the stones she dropped earlier guiding her, and runs into spirits rushing towards her, the sound coming from behind their masks particularly harrowing.

peter will find davina screaming as she tries to fight them off of her, magic inflicting aneurysm on the creatures in close proximity to her. she barely looks up when she hears his hey but it's the sticky webbing catching one of the spirits that enrage them, scratching and clawing at her face and arms, their onslaught eager to draw blood. ]

Stop— [ her magic tosses a forest spirit towards peter, hurls another one against a tree. ]

[webshoots]

[ stop—! peter doesn't have time to figure out whether she means him or if it's a general 'stop!' directed at — everything before a spirit come hurtling his way. he manages a noise that's a startled and strangled groan all at the same time before jumping upwards and as out of the way as he can manage (god, what he wouldn't do to be in new york right now. the countryside's never been this thing and this isn't helping—.)

there's a breath of a pause before he shoots a web line at the spirit that'd be tossed his way, then (attempts) to web it to a branch (hopefully it'll hold—

—ugh, he hates magic so much); a glance back at davina and an appraisal of how okay is she? it's punctuated by the the thought that he should probably make a joke to lessen the stress and the tension and the general feeling of 'oh god, we're all going to die' a little — and he has a reputation to uphold, but honestly, he's tired and after losing winters and five—.

—his attention shifts to the currently indisposed spirits, before shifting back towards the depths of the forest (there'd be more—, then back to davina. she doesn't look familiar, meaning peter can only assume she's part of the newest arrivals. (what an introduction to the town — at least they'd had time to acclimatise, quote-unquote, in a manner of speaking.) ]

—I don't think The Supremes managed to make it outside of Earth.

[consecrates]

[ she sends the few other spirits still attacking her flying across the forest, some falling unconscious while a couple hitting the tree with a bone-crunching thud. honestly, if they're dead, davina can hardly give any kind of damn, crouching on the forest floor and panting to catch her breath. not really the time, not when she needs to tend to the claw marks and scratches on her arms, but she'd rather not pass out while running around.

it's only after a full minute that his comment registers with her, her expression confused as davina looks up at peter. ] I'm ... sorry? [ why is she apologising? she's not entirely sure either. ] I don't understand?

[ is that supposed to be a joke, an unfunny one that doesn't make sense to her? or is he mistaking her for someone? in the mess of things happening, that wouldn't be very surprising. she looks over her shoulder, hearing more skittering and noises in the distance behind them.

it doesn't stop, does it? ] We should probably go. Explain it to me on the way back to town?

[webshoots]

Oof. [ peter winces at the crunch the spirits make as they hit the trees. there's a quirk of his lips and a comment about making sure not to get on her wrong side on the tip of his tongue that he doesn't quite get around to saying before davina speaks first.

the vast majority of peter's jokes serve two functions: one, a distraction — for himself, to distract himself from how utterly terrifying this can be for him, even now; and for whoever he's swinging in to help, to distract them from how utterly terrifying it can be to have a guy in spandex appear from wherever to (try and) save them from whatever the unfortunate situation of the day might be.

the second is for entertainment, and that's slightly more nebulous. mostly, they're for peter to entertain himself, which means that as far as being funny goes, he's pretty much the only person who finds himself funny. there's a momentary flicker of a thought, then, at how mildly embarrassing it is every time a joke doesn't land, but it's shrugged off almost immediately. ]

—The Supremes? [ he repeats, slightly incredulously; it's punctuated by a breath of a pause as he glances over his shoulder, back towards the noises that are way closer than peter's comfortable with. (his head is killing him, and all he wants is to sleep, just for a couple of hours—

ugh.)

he inhales, attention shifting back to davina. ] Stop! In the name of love? [ less incredulously, but accompanied by peter holding up a hand as if to say 'stop!'. his other hand, he holds out towards davina — her wounds look mostly superficial, but those are only the ones peter can see. the lanterns don't provide quite enough light for him to really assess her condition. ] —Look, I know I just said that I don't think the Supremes managed to break out of being successful on Earth, but it's a classic.

[ regardless, he barely gives her time to respond: she's right — they should move. he's not sure how long the two of them would be able to hold the approaching spirits off, so their best chance of survival is to get out of here before the spirits reach them. the question is: what would be quickest and safest way back to town? ] How hurt are you? [ beat; amendment. ] How quickly can you move? I can carry you, if it comes to it.

[consecrates]

[ davina tries not to feel embarrassed at the expectant look he gives her when he mentions the supremes once more, the realisation only dawning when he finally explains his ... joke. right, it's joke while they're in crazyville right now, running away from the same creatures who were just entertaining them earlier.

she honestly can't tell if it's a relief that he's joking or that it's crazy that he's trying to explain this to her in this situation.

snorting with laughter, she shakes her head as she tries to pick up the pace. ] I'm fine, I can still run. [ she's very good at hiding her own emotions, injuries included. it helps that the adrenaline is good at temporarily numbing every form of pain, including a sprain.

she looks over her shoulder once more, dropping a few more stones on the ground and letting her dagger cut into the trees and mark them. she's trailing magic that will hopefully keep her aware if they're near. ] But really, Stop! In the name of love? That's the best you could think of?

[webshoots]

[ she can still run: that's good; the laugh is a — well, peter will take it as a win, even if she's absolutely judging his attempt at injecting something other than sheer terror into the situation. ] Yeah, yeah, everyone's a critic and it wasn't my best, but in my defence, I didn't have a whole lot to work with. [ there's a breath of a pause because yes, please, let us move on from embarrassment and awkwardness (mostly): ] A side note: if you're new to the 'being attacked by strange, sentient, but definitively not human beings' thing, yelling stop generally doesn't work.

[ and people-saving slash team-ups? like that sort of, almost failed attempt right there, just before his awful joke? those tend to go better when one of the participating members isn't totally blind-sided by someone wielding sticky webfluid, peter benjamin parker, which is to say: he's silent for a moment as he inwardly acknowledges the fact that the 'stop' may have been directed more at him than at the spirits.

(but again with the moving on—). his attention shifts to the stones as she drops a couple more and whilst peter's not entirely sure what they're for (they're not exactly re-enacting hansel and gretel here — are they? god, he hopes not, because that definitely ended with someone dying and he's really not a massive fan of Bad Endings), he assumes there's a tried and tested purpose to them. there's a pointed glance between them and her — or as pointed as it can be given the lack of light and the — everything, before: ] —But I'm going to guess this isn't your first experience with running for your life in a dark, creepy forest? [ beat. ] —The stones, are they...? [ punctuated by a vague hand back towards them, as if to say 'please fill this in, because I don't really know what you're doing with those, other than leading the spirits possibly straight towards us.' ]

[consecrates]

Does running through a creepy cemetery while avoiding being attacked by dead, grudgy, murderous ancestors count? [ because it doesn't feel all that different—except maybe the clawing and the scratching and the weird sounds that they make. the ancestors thankfully were more normal, with their chanting spells that causes one's soul to be ripped apart and their inability to heed—or even, acknowledge—that stop means stop.

she guesses they really just hate her. fun times in the ancestral realm, that was. beacon—she can at least say this town is a walk in the park compared to that.

davina continues to drop the stones on the ground as they proceed through the forest, away from the rustling noise and the animalistic screams from behind them. ] They're cloaked with magic. [ like he understands what that means. ] They won't see it, I mean. [ see? easier to explain and understand. ] It'll let me know if they're following us.

[ which hopefully would give them time, even for a few seconds, to prepare and not get mauled again. ]

[webshoots]

—Grudgy? [ he half-questions (focussing on the important things here) before continuing with: ] But sure. That counts. For what it's worth, this is basically just Tuesday for me.

[ but then she says it's magic, and his first thought is about how much he hates magic and how much of beacon — apparently — is magical. couldn't it be science? or technology, or—

he presses his lips together. honestly, he never thought he'd miss arcade or mysterio, but compared to this? they'd be an absolute treat. this (capital-T this) is already managing to be up there in the list of things he'd rather not repeat in the future. (like, where's doc strange when you need him?) ]

—I have a spider-sense. [ he says, equally as if she'd understand what that means, and there's the briefest moment where he thinks of ezekiel and his whole ridiculous flossy-the-magic-spider totem thing that turned out not be quite so stupid after all. he pauses, glancing at davina and if it wasn't quite so dark and if the mask gave a more accurate representation of his expression, she'd be able to see a minute wince. fortunately for him, it is dark and the mask is pretty good at masking, so the shift in expression is predominately obscured. ]

Uh—. You know how a spider has eight eyes? [ it's not like that at all. ] But despite that, they rely on touch, vibration and— [ smooth, parker, real smooth; beat. ] if there's a threat, I'll know. Which means we're good on the warnings— [ a breath. ] I'm assuming you've got a name, because my inner monologue has definitely latched on to Gretel.