hadriel_logs | Event Log: Assassin

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!

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Closed to Tinker Bell - 21 April

[ After what happened with Blue, Gansey had to get out of the house. There was no choice. He couldn't stay there after she'd literally tried to kill him. He needed to clear his head, and despite knowing that there was danger on the streets, he went to them anyway. What could the harm of it be, after all? It wasn't as though he was safe in his own home.

In spite of that, though - in spite of all of that, Gansey isn't expecting to be affected himself. Violence isn't something he can imagine himself doing. It never has been, and never will be. His friends don't mind it in the same way, but to Gansey, it's always been a thing to avoid. He doesn't like violence, doesn't like fighting, doesn't like weapons being around him.

It means that when he sees her, he's unprepared. The girl is not one he knows, and he can't explain the sudden animosity. It churns in his stomach, starting the moment he sees her there in front of him. There's absolutely no good reason for it. ]

What is it you want? [ He snaps, despite the fact that she hasn't spoken to him. ] Get out of here, can't you. I didn't come here for you.

Open - Library

[ After Tinker Bell, he feels there's nowhere left to go. If Gansey had thought it felt bad to know he was being targeted by Blue, this was even worse. He'd thought himself immune from the touch of violence. As it turned out, he could not have been more wrong. He had looked at that girl, and he'd wanted to hurt her. He had genuinely wanted to do her damage, for no reason other than that she was in his sights. Even thinking of her now, he feels a taste of the same feeling.

It can't be natural. He knows that, implicitly. It's completely illogical for him to hate a stranger, especially in this way. He'd never wanted to enact violence on his worst enemies, and this girl had certainly done nothing to deserve it.

It leaves him feeling vulnerable in a way that even Blue's attack on him had not done. If he can be made to want something so opposite to him, anything is possible. Worse, he knows that if this is how he feels about a woman he's never met, it must be how Blue feels about him, and it's clear to him that this isn't something she'll be able to shake. Just being around her will trigger those feelings. Gansey had needed to get away from Tinker Bell just to feel sensible again.

How could he go home, under those conditions?

It's probably foolish to imagine he's safe in the library. He's not, really. Anyone could come upon him here. Blue wants to hurt him, but she may not be the only one. But what else can he do? Home is certainly not safe, and the streets, where Tinker Bell is, are no safer. Faced with that, Gansey does the only thing he can; he flees to the library, and buries his head in books. At least, he thinks, they'll distract him. He can't read them, but he can look, and thumb through the pictures. Anything to get his mind off what's happening. With shaking hands, he turns the pages, and tries to keep focused on this. ]

Excuse me?

[She doesn't understand how a man she's never met can assume she wants something from him; she doesn't. Tink was minding her business until he saw fit to speak to her, and speaking to her in that tone is unacceptable. She glares, arms folding against her chest, angry but too curious to walk away.]

What the hell's the matter with you?

[It can't be her, she doesn't know him and she hasn't done anything.]

[ Even as the words leave Gansey's mouth, he finds them difficult to comprehend. She'd barely even been looking in his direction, much less asking for anything from him. Yet what he feels seems to contest that, with every instinct bleeding antagonism towards her. He feels like he did when he faced Kavinsky over a field of drug-addled followers, like he did when he threw a burning bottle at a car. His fingers curl into fists, and his tone is superior - almost sneering.

He doesn't feel like himself at all. ]

With me? I was walking here. It's you who's in the way. Who are you, anyway? They'll let all sorts in here.

[ All sorts meaning what? Even the taste of those words is wrong in Gansey's mouth. He blinks, tripped up by his own words. ]

I've-- never seen you before.

[ So why does she bother him so much, then? Even as he looks at her, logic tries to fight its way through. ]

Clearly, if they let you in.

[ She's been through enough that 'all sorts' doesn't bother her. He can imply whatever he wants and it holds little meaning to a fairy who's never seen the man before. How ridiculous of him to approach anyone this way - but while she'd like to set him straight, he already seems like something of a lost cause.]

What is it you're trying to do? You seem set on provoking me.

[She keeps her tone flat, as much as she might like to raise her voice to the man. If he's looking for a reaction, she'd do better to keep her temper in check. Make sure he doesn't get what he wants from her.]

[ What is he trying to do? Gansey never talks to anyone like this. Not even people he has a reason for disliking. This feeling, it's not just antipathy. It's pure fury, and nothing he even understands.

He is not a person who provokes people. He blinks, hard, and takes a step back. ]

I don't know. I don't know what you've done. I feel like I'm supposed to -

[ His fingers twitch, curling in on themselves. Gansey doesn't have any weapons. He's never wanted them, but now he's itching for them, and it's sickening. He's horrified by the feeling as soon as he recognizes it. ]

- hurt you. I don't even know you.

[ He's staring at her as if she should be able to explain it. There's no good reason for that, either. ]

Oh, I see. Don't suppose you have anything against fairies. Try to hurt me and I'll make sure you regret it.

[Some people used to hunt them in the forest. It's easy for her to get snippy when she's seen darkness take over men who enjoyed killing for their own enjoyment; to extinguish a light of goodness that existed within her sisters. Her own rage is boiling up before she can calm herself, but then he keeps looking instead of acting on his impulse, and Tinker Bell isn't sure what to make of that.]

... You aren't doing anything.

[She frowns, staring back at him. What the hell is she supposed to do with this?]

Fairies? You’re a fairy?

[ Strangely enough, Gansey doesn’t scornful, or disbelieving, or anything like that. Instead, he sounds fascinated. He loves magic. He always has, and his delight for that clashes at once with his rage. One is natural, and the other enforced. Violent anger is alien to Gansey. He doesn't want that feeling.

This woman shouldn't make him angry. He should be excited by her. Pleased by the idea of her. He should be fascinated, trying to talk to her about her world and her life, and not -

Not imagining hurting her, Jesus Christ. He lets out a strained sound, and deliberately steps back. ]

I...didn't think I could...

There's something very wrong. [ The strain comes through in his voice now, and his shoulders are held taut with the tension of holding him back. ] I'm not myself. You need to get away from me, and stay away.

Please. I'm--

Afraid I'll hurt you, otherwise.

But -

[She doesn't understand the conflict. Usually the people who'd like to hurt her are much less conflicted about it than he is. There's never any resisting, no trying to help her through it. If he's wrestling with the darkness, she doesn't know whether to run or to try to help him. One is very much who she is, the other makes sense in this situation.

At least Tinker Bell isn't angry anymore. She'd just like to know what brought this on.]

- Alright.

[ She changes her mind before she starts to turn away, lifting a hand to pause his argument.]

My name is Tinker Bell. If you need help, this isn't my first time fighting a dark impulse.

[ Neither hers nor someone else's.]

I'll go, but don't be afraid. You're in control of your actions.

[ Gansey blinks at her. ]

Tinkerbell?

[ He says it like it's all one word, because in the stories he's used to, it is. She's not really a little green fairy with a high blond ponytail and insect-like wings. She's also not a little orb of light that would fit in his hand.

Now that he's made that comparison, it roils with unpleasant vitriol in his stomach, like it's her fault that she's not these things. That makes no sense either. Would anything she said make him feel this way?

This is so unnatural. Gansey takes a steadying breath.

She's right. He's in control of his actions. He's not being physically forced to hurt her. Something is making him want to, but that's not the same. ]

I know. I can--

I will fight it. This isn't what I want.

Feeling out of control for the first time in his life, Laurent does what he always does when too angry to deal with the world: He retreats.

The library was the last place Laurent prepared to visit in the town, knowing full well that he would spend days, weeks, or however long it took to find the answers to this place in the library. Yet he'd encountered the girl in the armory, and decided it best to make for the quiet peace of the library before he bloodied his blade.

The temptation was still there.

But now it was finally tempered by books. Information at his fingertips. A chance to search out change on his own.

He pauses, arms full of books, when he sees Gansey. His eyes are heavy, bored, and almost a threat. "I would appreciate the use of the space. Alone."

It's the same reason Gansey had come here. He'd needed a place to hide away, not just from Blue, but from the girl, too. From the girl he'd hated on sight for no reason at all. He couldn't countenance that sort of reaction in himself, couldn't even face it. The books weren't helping like they ought to, like they would have if he were at home. He couldn't read anything in them. None of the language made sense, it didn't correspond to anything he knew.

But it was something to focus on, at least. And sometimes, there were pictures or diagrams, and he could try to decipher those.

He didn't hear Laurent come in. The voice made him jump, and then he looked around with wide eyes. Jesus, that could've been anyone. It could've been that girl.

When it was no more than a stranger, Gansey let out a breath, and looked back at the book.

"We can't always get what we want," he said, without moving. "I have nowhere else to go."

At least, nowhere that felt as safe.

"The front of the building is empty enough," Laurent's silken words poured out in a bored tone.

This spot was enviable. In the back, fairly secluded, more chance of privacy. No doubt the boy was hiding out from someone back here. But Laurent was in no real mood to humor him. The idea that they could share the space passed his mind, then was dismissed quickly enough.

Then readdressed.

With a heavy sigh.

"Clear space to share, then." It wasn't a request. He wasn't leaving this area. But with all the fighting and anger going on outside, it might be best to not quite provoke someone too much right now. People turned to anger so quickly these days. The boy hadn't attacked him immediately, but limiting those chances for now was a better idea.

Gansey was about an inch away from pointing out this man could, in fact, use the front, in that case.

He knew why he didn't want to, though. If he'd come here for privacy, then he was here for the same reason as Gansey. There was someone he was trying to avoid, either because they'd tried to hurt him or because he'd tried to hurt them. Or both. That probably explained his mood, too, and honestly Gansey couldn't hold that against him.

He looked up at him, studying his face, and then sighed.

"Fine."

He leaned forward, reaching across his desk and pulling his books closer. By the time he finished, he'd cleared around half of the table, which seemed fair to him.

"Perhaps you'll have better luck than I do. I can't read anything in here."

It didn't stop him trying, just in case he ever found something that made sense. But for now, that was just a vague hope. He was here to distract himself; he couldn't really pretend to anything else.

Laurent easily slid into the space Gansey had cleared for him. At least the boy didn't argue. Looking at him, Laurent didn't think it was a fight he could win.

Yet, Laurent was learning there was a lot more to people than just their looks in a place like this.

As he sat, he sighed when the boy continued to speak. He almost told him he wasn't here to socialize, but decided to test out what Gansey had said instead. He reached for the first book, fingers delicately closing over the spine before laying it out before him.

Sure enough...

"I don't know the language." And he speaks so many. His eyes narrow.

"The books are from the locals who lived here before us?"

Gansey watched him, curious.

At the same time, he took in Laurent's style. This man definitely wasn't from modern America. He was trussed up like a Renaissance knight, his clothes held together with so many laces that Gansey couldn't imagine how he did them all himself. Actual nobles would've had servants who did that for them, he knew. He'd read enough books from that period to know the style, although Laurent's wasn't any particular configuration that he recognized.

Which was odd, in itself, because he thought he would recognize most. If he had to put any guess on this, he'd aim towards seventeenth century France, but even that didn't completely fit.

If it was European in some respect, though, it might mean Laurent had languages that Gansey didn't. He lifted his shoulder, a light shrug.

"I think so. Everything here is, from the houses to the stores," he said. "It's a strange thing to me that there's no language barrier between any of us, but this is obscure. I very much doubt you're actually speaking English, for example."

Not modern English, anyway. But that was what he wanted to find out.

"I am speaking Veretian," Laurent answers easily enough.

Yet he sits back, pouring over the puzzle in his head. If they understand all languages... something made them capable of it. Or someone. And if there is only one language they do not understand, then the someone who granted their current understanding doesn't want them to know that one language.

He doesn't have to stretch his mind to guess at who the someone(s) was. Or at why they might try to hide a native language.

"Has anyone asked the gods why we do not know this one language?" He leans forward again, turning to the front of the book to start slowly pouring through it.

Veretian. Well, it wasn't any version of English. Gansey didn't recognize the name.

Laurent seemed sharp enough, though. He'd already moved to the same conclusion as Gansey had, which made Gansey smile, a little.

Christ, maybe he'd been wrong to come here alone. This - puzzling through a problem, talking it through with someone - that was a better distraction than working alone. It always had been, and he should have remembered that.

"I haven't seen Hope since I started working here," he said, and Christ knew he wasn't that likely to ask one of the others. Delight, maybe - but she was new. Their understanding of languages hadn't been provided by her, and he honestly doubted either Rage or Fear had anything to do with it. Hope was his guess. Hope was usually his guess. "But when I did speak to him, I asked him about the past. About the culture that was here before. He wasn't all that willing to speak of them, beyond implying he'd like to bring them back some day. I don't think they want us to know what happened to them.

So, obviously, I'm keen to find out."

Hope.

What ridiculous names the gods carried. Hope. Fear. Rage. Delight. As if any of them were truly these emotions they claimed to be. Did they embody those emotions? Or did they merely feed off a single one? He hadn't met any of them, yet, to ask this question.

Or the other one million questions queueing up.

"Then I will ask Hope. If he doesn't want to tell us, he can at least give us the means of understanding for ourselves." Why doesn't he want to tell them?

Laurent grinds his teeth in frustration. So much limitation put on them in this place. It's not a city. It's not a cave. It is a prison.

"Have you found anything of interest yet?"

At first, Gansey's head shook. He leaned over, though, pushing the book he was reading between them to let the other man see. None of the words were intelligible, though there was a diagram - one that looked like one of the spires they lived in, separated into its various apartments.

"Some have pictures. They tell me what's being talked about, at least. This could be some sort of design plan, or it could be of architectural interest. But that's definitely one of the spires, isn't it?"

He leaned back. Aside from the library books, there was also a small, circular notebook on the table. Its pages were covered with Gansey's eager scribble, and contained the notes he'd made while studying. Every guess he'd had about this place was in that notebook. It was also in his head, though, and it didn't occur him to show the book to Laurent while they were talking.

"I've been trying to find some kind of Rosetta stone. A book that has this language set alongside something I recognize, but so far I've not had that luck.

I can tell you what I've seen, though. How new are you? Were you here before the caves changed?"

"Less than two weeks here," Laurent half answers. He's only half listening. His eyes are pouring over the diagram. It's irrelevant in as far that they're not trying to learn about the architecture of this place. No doubt that that could prove useful somewhere somehow, he's certain, but he doubts it holds keys to unlocking the mysteries of this place.

But it might hold other keys.

A 'rosetta stone,' as Gansey had called it. Not this particular one.

"We need to look for patterns first.

Have you mapped the language? Every letter you come across?" He's almost forgotten Gansey was about to start on his own information dump.

Gansey paused, caught off guard by the suggestion. He struggled enough with the kind of dead languages he did have a key for. He wasn't useless at them, but even with Latin - the best of his efforts - he'd never had Ronan's natural flair. All of that was hard work for Gansey.

He frowned, leaning forward.

"No," he admitted, and then paused. "But we can't even be certain they're letters, really. They could be symbolic, representing whole words instead of parts of words. And they may not be read left to right, but right to left, or even vertically. There's plenty of examples of that on Earth."

But still. It could be a starting point. He looked at Laurent, curious.

"We could try, though. Is this something you've done before?"

"I'm sure there are.

We should still be mapping the language, however it functions."

'We'? Laurent pauses briefly at that. He looks up at Gansey for the first time since he's sat down, narrowing his eyes at him. How easily they'd fallen into step. Laurent hadn't intended that. In fact, he wished the boy would leave actually. Yet the more they talked, the more they flowed.

"It's not. But you can't make a key if you haven't mapped the language," Laurent says coolly.

"Who are you?

For a long time, Gansey had worked entirely alone. His research had been his own before he'd found Malory to help, and after he'd left, it had been his own again. It was notable, therefore, that in the two years he'd been living in Henrietta, he'd gotten so used to working with others. It felt natural to him now, working as part of a team.

Even with someone he didn't know. He smiled at the question.

"You're right, of course. It's worth doing. I'm Gansey."

Which was one of his three names, but as this was not a place where the others had to mean anything, he didn't offer them. He lifted his eyebrows.

"Who are you? I've never heard of Veretian, you know. I'm guessing you aren't from Earth at all.

The boy- Gansey. Gansey smiled at him. Laurent didn't relax at that smile. He had intended to work entirely in silence. Yet the information Gansey had volunteered lent to more questions. And when voiced allowed, it had seemed natural to continue talking the problems back and forth.

It probably was more natural to do so. That didn't mean Laurent was inclined to do so.

"Laurent of Vere. That is the country I am from. I am from a world, but Earth is not a term I know. I've realized I'm not from the same world as most here," he continues carefully. Gansey is no threat. That's not really the problem he's wary of right now, though.

"How long have you been here?"

Laurent's attitude had relaxed a little, since they began this. Not by much, in fairness, but enough that he seemed cold rather than irritable. Gansey could live with cold, particularly when it came hand in hand with intelligence.

And it still made for a far better distraction than a pile of books he couldn't read. He managed to keep smiling.

"Two months, more or less," he said, and then inclined his head towards the window. "Not that there's actually a moon we can see, but that's my guess. My friends have been here for longer."

Some of them, anyway. Noah, Adam and Ronan. Not Blue.

He couldn't allow his thoughts to spread to Blue. By sheer force of will, he pushed that thought down and locked it away. No. He would concentrate on Laurent. That was far easier.

"When they came, there were only two gods. Now there are four. When I spoke to Hope, he said he wanted to bring back the others, but lacks the strength to do so. That's why he needs us. He's also the one who provides the food we can find here, and the clothes. Probably the air and light, too. There's no other obvious place it comes from, after all."

Event Log: Assassin

Gansey | 1 Closed 1 Open

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