ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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hadriel_logs2016-04-15 10:03 am
hadrielmods) wrote in hadriel_logs2016-04-15 10:03 am
Entry tags:
Event Log: Assassin
Who: Everyone!
What: The Assassin event
Where: Throughout the city
When: April 15th-23rd
Warnings: Inevitable character death, potential horror and gore and unpleasantness. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if it things get too bad!
What: The Assassin event
Where: Throughout the city
When: April 15th-23rd
Warnings: Inevitable character death, potential horror and gore and unpleasantness. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if it things get too bad!
The morning of April 15th in Hadriel is cheerful, with artificial light streaming through your window. Your blankets are warm, jabberjays are shrieking, and you're probably going to experience a murder attempt today.
Maybe it'll be from a stranger, maybe it'll be from a friend, but the bottom line is that everybody is after somebody and nobody is safe (...okay, twelve people are safe, but that's beside the point). Time will only tell when you'll be overcome by that murderous rage and try to kill someone else. The best thing you can probably do at this point is stay calm, keep your head high, and try not to die for the next eight days.
Helpfully, Rage will have restocked her armory for the event, for those of you have yet to arm themselves. Additionally, for a limited time only, the armory will be stocked with bear traps, tripwire (in both 'general wire' and 'barbed wire' flavor), and voice recorders. Use all of them, use none of them, just get on out there and kill each other!
Oh, and one last thing...► This log covers April 15th-23rd.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► Did your assassin catch up to you? Please remember to hit up our death post!
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Whatever. Alcohol's reliable and it's readily available, and it reminds her of her life back in Chicago, before it became this complete shitshow, before Canada and Stanley Park, before she ever heard the word Nightbane or knew that this kind of monster is what she always was, lurking underneath a thin veneer of humanity. It's not like she has anywhere else to be or anyone else to spend her endless free time with, so she may as well be at the bar, right? Why the fuck not.
Nick is no stranger to anger - her default is a slow simmer of it on all but her best days, and she hasn't seen a best day in quite some time now. But she's never felt this angry, this violent toward someone she's never met before, someone who hasn't done anything except turn up in the same place at the same time.
If she could think straight, Nick might remember feeling this kind of uncontrollable rage once before in Hadriel, after the goddess of the same name had been revived. She might remember that and wonder if maybe the wash of fury she feels now might be caused by something similar at work, if she weren't so completely overcome by a single thought - KILL HER.
Nick's never actually started a barfight before, but she's finished or broken up more than a few. She might think, as she picks up a nearby chair and hurls it in Maketh's direction, about how there's a first time for everything - if she could think about anything at all besides inflicting as much damage as possible.]
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Maketh barely realizes what's happened before she hears something whistling through the air, and promptly hits the floor, arms over her head. The chair crashes into the wall and sends glass and booze raining down. Maketh rolls onto her side with a curse, scrambling for the gun. What is happening. There's a woman standing in the doorway, not quite a stranger, though no one that Maketh has spoken with previously. Nick, isn't it? That friend that Chris has mentioned.
Who just threw a chair at her. What the fuck.
Maketh pulls back before she can aim the gun, still on her ass and surrounded by shattered bottles.] What are you doing?
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[She makes an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders as she stalks into the room.]
'Cause it looks to me like I'm squashing a bug that doesn't belong in here.
[There's a bottle of something on a nearby table, and Nick picks it up as she passes by, then hurls it in Maketh's direction.]
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Despite the alcohol and glass streaming through the air, no one is drunk. Maketh swears, shielding her head with her arms as the bottle sails through the air. It crashes into the wall, narrowly missing her face.
Oh, fuck. The gods are making people angry.] Stop, just--stop! It's not you right now, it's Rage, okay!
cw misogynistic slur because she's awful :c also WOW THAT WAS THE WRONG ACCOUNT
[She tips over a table in her advancing path, sending debris scattering in all directions across the floor.]
You don't. You don't know the first fucking thing about me so don't you dare try to tell me what I am!
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Yeah, sure, blame one of the gods, that's an easy fix.
[She slides to the next nearest table and picks up a half-full glass, hurling it in Maketh's direction.]
Y'ever consider that maybe people just don't like you?
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[Is this what Maketh looked like to that man when she shot him? Teeth bared, hate so clear in her eyes. Focused entirely on this one thing, which was ending a life because the one living it needed to be stopped. Maketh flinches when one of Nick's missiles finally strikes true, the glass hitting her in the arm and soaking her jacket before rebounding off and shattering across the floor. It smells like whiskey.] Do you even know what my name is?
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[She's hated plenty of people she doesn't know. Emotions don't always follow logic, and right now, Nick's emotions have taken over, leaving no space for anything else in her mind.]
I can tell just by looking at you - you need to be over.
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I'm gonna bet you haven't got the words for what it is that I do.
[The transformation takes only seconds - one minute, Nick is how she was, and the next, she's taller, bigger, fashioned from porcelain and clad in stacks of black ribbons and lace. Long, dark curls of hair cascade over her shoulders, and a fissure in her forehead cuts a stark contrast to the smooth white surface surrounding it. Her eyes hinge open, glassy shocks of blue in her otherwise monochrome appearance. She no longer smiles, because her mouth is a painted-on pout, but her voice somehow rings out, deeper, a little distorted:]
Get ready to find out.
[Slowly, she raises up both arms, hands palms out, aiming for Maketh.]
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It's inevitable, really. A gunshot wouldn't stop the Inquisitor. It certainly won't stop this.
Maketh lowers her hands and just closes her eyes. No point in trying to dodge. People like her aren't meant to fight this.]
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Since he doesn't really drink, it isn't even about the alcohol. He actually wants the bottle to store the last of something that's in a larger bottle, so he can use the larger bottle for something else. This extremely mundane plan is the only reason he steps into the bar, and is met with probably the last sight he's expecting.
It only takes a moment to figure out what must be going on--he isn't unaware of the event, even if he so far seems to have gotten lucky in not being involved--and another moment to react, crossing the room to step in front of Maketh and then turning his attention toward Nick.
Really looking at her--or the doll-thing that she becomes--makes him want to freeze on pure instinct, but that's exactly the opposite of what he needs to do. He needs to protect Maketh, and try to get through to Nick. Two goals, which he can focus on at the same time.
He steps back a little to better shield Maketh and raises his left hand placatingly toward Nick, his other hand down in case he needs to draw his gun. He really doesn't want to have to.]
Whoa, whoa, hey! N-Nick, stop, you don't want to do this.
[Please listen, at least enough not to just attack. He hadn't been too successful in convincing Emily not to go after Rhys, but it hadn't been dangerous to talk to her; then again, they had both been calm in their kitchen, not in the middle of a Rage-fueled attack.
He doesn't want to fight Nick, but he will if he has to. If she were thinking clearly he doesn't believe for a moment she would actually want to hurt Maketh, and even if she did... Maketh is his friend too, just like Nick is, and he's not about to just let her be killed.]
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Chris is not a welcome sight to her eyes. She's steered clear of his house since he chewed her out for what she'd said to Emily, and he hadn't exactly tried to track her down, either, so that really only reinforced the conclusion she'd drawn - they're not friends anymore. Which is fine, she tells herself, she can take care of herself, she doesn't need friends. She's better off on her own; she's been saying that forever, hasn't she? So it's fine. F I N E. She doesn't need him.
Seeing him again now, though - it hurts more than she expected it would. Her eyes can't narrow into a glare when she's like this, but that's what she'd be doing if she could. How dare he try to stop her. She's angry still, but it's a different kind of anger, a more logical kind of anger, a sort that has an identifiable start, an anger that makes sense. It's not as strong as what she feels advancing on Maketh, but it's enough to shake her resolve the tiniest bit. She drops her hands down to her sides.]
Yeah? How the fuck would you know, anyway? You don't know what I'm thinking. Maybe I do.
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Somehow, Nick doesn't go for his throat. They know each other, Maketh remembers. They might even be friends. Maketh takes a breath to steady herself and puts a hand on Chris' shoulder.] You -- you shouldn't be here.
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[He says it quietly, back toward Maketh, though his gaze stays on Nick. She's angry, which is no surprise considering the event, but there's more to it than that; more than the event anger, or different at least, and of course. They hadn't spoken since he'd snapped at her about Emily so of course she'd be mad at him, which makes him feel simultaneously guilty and angry in response.
But this is not the time for something as petty as that; this is going to be even more difficult than expected, which makes it even more important to stay calm and focus. Protect Maketh, and try to talk Nick down. She's lowered her hands at least, but he knows that could be very temporary.]
Yeah. M-Maybe you do right now, but this isn't... I-It's kind of hard to believe you wouldn't regret it.
[He thinks he knows her that well, at least. But then again, some bitter voice in the back of his head reminds him that maybe he's not really as good a judge of his friends as he likes to think.]
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But that's not what's happening here. Now, Nick knows she has it in her to go right up to that edge and gleefully hop over, because this bitch needs to die. It doesn't matter what her name is, or who she is, or what she's done - she just needs to cease existing, and Nick needs to be the one to do it.
Maybe, she thinks, idly, she's always been this monster underneath. Maybe she's just been fooling herself for the past twenty-six years in thinking she's a person. Maybe it's time to embrace her monstrosity, because then at least she wouldn't have to hide it anymore. She's tired of hiding, tired of pretending, tired of caring, tired of being something she's more and more certain she's not.]
Believe whatever you want about me. Just get outta my fucking way.
[It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks about her. Nick knows herself, and that's all that matters.]
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She hadn't been afraid then. Just -- emptied out, in a way. She feels that way now, staring at the thing that was hiding under Nick's skin. If not for Chris, this would probably be a quiet moment.
Maketh holds herself very still, hands at the ready. When Nick lunges - because she will, Maketh is very sure - then she'll push Chris out of the way. Flatten him to the ground if she has to, because he is not going to die. It is not allowed.]
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But although he's scared--that Nick will kill both him and Maketh, that she'll do so and then after the event is over be so consumed with guilt that she can't get over it, that dying again will be too much for Maketh to deal with, that it would be too much for him to deal with--it's all secondary to the much more important need to protect his friends. It's Maketh who is in physical danger but Nick needs help too, just in a different way.
He'd let his fear override that need to protect people once before, and that had nearly led to Emily's death. Of all the things he regrets doing that night, that's one of the things he regrets most, and he won't make the same mistake twice.]
I'm not going anywhere, Nick.
[The unspoken addition that if she wants to attack Maketh she'll have to attack him too is clear, and he hopes it'll be enough. That she'll be able to control herself--that she'll care to, even if she's angry with him--and that everyone can get out of this situation alive.
But if not...
He can sense the shift in Maketh's posture, so hyperfocused on everything going on, and he really hopes she won't intervene. But he knows he would, if the situations were reversed, and the hand still at his side moves just a little to shift the hem of his hoodie. It had been hiding the handle of the gun he has tucked into the back of his belt, but if he had to grab the weapon in a hurry it needs to be out of the way, and this way hopefully Maketh can see that he has a backup plan even if he really doesn't want to have to use it.]
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Fine. You think that fake Lifetime-special bullshit speech about friendship that you fed me means I won't kill you too? You're wrong. If you're not with me, Chris, then you're against me. And right now, you're in my way.
[She's hesitated long enough. This has all gone on long enough. Nick slowly raises her hand again, feeling the build of dark energy in her porcelain palm. If Chris wants to get himself killed for this bitch, that's fine by Nick. Nobody asked him to stick his nose into this business. He's just getting what he deserves.]
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Decision made, he's ready to pull his gun--
Then something slams into him, followed by a shock of blinding pain through his bad knee, and he hits the ground a moment later. But for all his lack of grace his reflexes are quick in a fight and he twists around, both so he can aim a kick with his good leg back toward whatever had struck him--it's Maketh; some part of him knows it's Maketh but he's too caught up in reacting on instinct to really register it--and so he can draw his revolver.
Taking a shot from the floor is not exactly the form Bob had taught him, and not exactly something he's done before, but it doesn't matter. The giant doll that Nick's become just seems even bigger and more threatening now and for the first time he wonders if shooting her will even hurt her, but it's too late to try to figure that out. Instead he raises his gun, aiming for one of her doll eyes--the only place he thinks it might hut a wendigo to shoot, so maybe it would work on her too--but then he sees the crack in the porcelain of her forehead.
In a moment he shifts aim just a fraction, letting instinct guide the motion rather than conscious thought, no room for worries about whether this will work or if he can even make the shot. Then he fires.]
cw blood
It's what getting shot feels like.
She's been shot before in Morphus, but the bullets only chipped her porcelain skin, leaving bruises and scrapes behind once she was back to resembling a human, quickly healed over and forgotten. Nick never knew she had such an obvious weak spot, though she'll think about it later, after she's regained consciousness again, and laugh bitterly under her breath about it, because it's obvious to the point of being a farce.
She doesn't laugh now, though. Chris pulls a gun on her and fires, and the world stops with the sound of the blast ringing through the room. Nick doesn't move, or at least she thinks she doesn't move - can't move - but what happens instead, since she's lost her focus, is that she shrinks back into human form, dazed and wide-eyed, now with a deep gash in her forehead where the crack was in the doll - the spot where Chris shot her. Nick stumbles, then sinks to her knees and coughs up a bloody mouthful - including the bullet, which clatters on the floor in front of her. Then she slumps forward onto the floor, breathing but entirely unconscious.]
cw gore
Strange, that there's no pain.
Maketh watches Nick go down and then reaches out to touch her shoulder. Her hand comes away red. She can see the white of bone shining through her jacket, the spit of connective tissue rolled back and burnt.] Oh.
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She doesn't look dead. Hurt, but not dead, and there's a sudden flood of relief amidst the tension and fear and underneath his pounding heartbeat. She's not dead. They need to get her some help and figure out how badly she's hurt, but maybe she'll be alright; he hadn't killed her.
Next goal in mind, Chris gets up to his good knee so he can shift to look at Maketh, and then he sees her face and her hand and follows her gaze to her shoulder. For a moment he's not sure what happened or what exactly he's looking at, so focused on shooting at Nick that he hadn't noticed the attack, but then it clicks together.
His stomach lurches and he feels nauseous for a moment at the sight of the injury, but he's seen worse and freaking out won't help right now. Stay calm, don't panic, do something.
Chris gets painfully to his feet, managing the one step it takes to reach Maketh and trying to catch eye contact.]
Okay, okay, sit down for a sec.
[First thing first; she needs to sit down, they need to stop the bleeding--right? He doesn't know what to do with an injury like this--and then he needs to get her to the clinic or a healer or something. He needs to do the same with Nick too, and he's only one person and how is he going to do this?
Don't freak out. One thing at a time.]
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barrels in
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cw needles!
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