hadriel_logs | Event Log: A Jar Full of Sunshine

Entry tags:

Event Log: A Jar Full of Sunshine

Who: Everyone!
What: The Jar Full of Sunshine event
Where: Throughout the city
When: May 3rd-May 9th
Warnings: Fireflies as a conduit for drug use. Annoyingly catchy songs.

On May 3rd, you may wake up and notice that something is different about the cave. Are you sure it's the daytime? Maybe you didn't sleep long enough, because it still seems pretty dark outside. Or, of course, the gods are messing with the lights again.

This time, however, it seems like it's actually a good thing. Sometime around the afternoon, some smaller lights begin to appear around the city, trickling in from Delight's temple and flickering on and off. These fireflies are brighter than what you might be used to, but being illuminated by their light will mysteriously allow a small surge of joy to rumble through you.

By May 4th, the shops are stocked with large mason jars, and you can start distributing them and using them to catch these fireflies as you wish. They're most concentrated in and around Delight's temple, but by now, the delight-erflies are pretty fairly spread throughout the city.

Be careful (or don't) of how many you catch! 1-3 fireflies in a jar will be enough to give you a mild emotional boost, at 4-6 you might be able to realize that you're definitely happier than you used to be, at 7-10, you can definitely tell that something is making you more cheerful, warm and happy. Beyond 10 fireflies, the additional effect gets smaller the more fireflies you capture, but it will still continue to build until you may just spend the next few days wrapped around your firefly jar in a pleasantly drugged stupor.

Just, uh... don't forget to eat.

► This log covers May 3rd-May 9th.
► 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 you OD on fireflies (is that even possible)? Please remember to hit up our death post!

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Carlisle had thought a breath of fresh air at the park would be good for his nerves, especially now that the threat of assassination has mostly passed. He'd gotten to stretch his healing muscles, made a few new acquaintances, found someone to share notes with -- all in all, not bad work for the past week. Things were already going better than they had in the jungle. Everything was going to be just fine.

Or so he'd thought until something new and unexpected came to town, and his nerves returned to their usual, restless state within a matter of seconds. Once his initial terror had passed and he'd realized they were just insects -- fireflies even, much like the ones that flitted around the lowlands -- he'd decided he'd brave the streets for that fresh air after all. They were just insects. Nothing frightening, nothing dangerous, nothing the size of a bear and likely to devour him at a moment's notice. Not unless hundreds of them swarmed him at once, draining him of life as had happened to his father, but those had been completely different bugs. Completely different.

And once he'd managed to convince himself of that after another twenty minutes or so of fear-laden procrastination, off to the park he finally went. It turned out he'd had no reason to be worried: the fireflies are just as the ones he knew back home, a pleasant addition to the air around him without being a bother. It wasn't until one landed on him that he'd thought much about their presence in the city.

That's how Glacius finds him: in the park, attempting to coax a firefly into an empty jar that is normally reserved for ink. As the alien calls to him, he almost doesn't recognize his voice -- it's far too timid, too hesitant for the proud alien, yet as Carlisle turns, there he is.

"Ah, Glacius," he greets politely. "No need to fear the fireflies, lad. If that's, er. What's bothering you. You do sound a little bothered."

Alright, Carlisle doesn't sound angry or bothered--by anything at all, really, which is a remarkable step up from the first time he'd met the clergyman. The relaxed demeanor is very heartening for the alien to hear right now, who's acting like he had been expecting conflict to break out he moment he dared to show his face beyond the caves again. He tilts his head, the slightest of smiles pulling at his cheekbones as he watches the normally timid man interacting with one of the insects...

... That changes, however, when he hears their name. Anything with the word "fire" in it is cause for alarm for the ice alien. Now he jerks his head up and backs up a few paces, staggering heavily and clumsily on his injured hip as he goes. "Fire-flies? Are these creatures capable of spouting flame?!" He wasn't bothered by the insects before, but now he's thinking he might have reason to!

Having known how the only other ice giant he knows reacted to such words, Carlisle realizes half a second too late that he should have clarified.

"Oh, oh no, nothing like that!" he quickly reassures Glacius, taking a step toward him. "They're called such because they light up, like torchlight. They're quite harmless though, I assure you. See?"

And to demonstrate their harmlessness, he tries to catch one in his hand, but the bug just flies out of his reach. "Well, I would show you, except that they seem to elude me at every turn, but trust me that they are no threat to a being such as yourself."

"Oh..." Glacius responds, but his voice still sounds dubious, wary even. It isn't until he watches Carlisle reach to to one with his bare hand--well, bare except for those long gloves he wears, but that doesn't seem like it would help against fire-- that he seems to take heart in the man's words. When he'd first met Carlisle, the man had been a panicky mess that had acted like every little thing could potentially bring about his end; if he has no reason to fear these insect, then Glacius resolves not to, either.

"I see. They are very beautiful," the ice alien admits, lifting his eyes to watch the fireflies drifting above his head. Even though he is the very epitome of a gentle giant, none of the insects seem to be coming too close to him, probably having something to do with the cold of his body. "Are they common on the human homeworld?"

Carlisle's mouth pulls itself into his staple grin (one part genuine, one part nervous, and all parts evident that he has no idea how else to present himself) as Glacius compliments the insects, his fears having apparently been allayed. At least he feels he's doing something right, since he apparently has no prowess in trapping bugs in jars.

"They're fairly common where I'm from, at least around certain times in the year. I don't know about other worlds, though it's not unreasonable to assume anyone who comes from a land like mine might have similar creatures."

"Then this is the first thing about human worlds that I envy. They're like little stars," Glacius notices, a slight smile on his face. "With the darkness and their glowing light, it's almost enough to help one temporarily forget that we're stuck with a cave ceiling above us."

That's been one of those things that other people might overlook, but has been particularly different for the ice alien. Whenever he was offworld, he could take solace by looking up at the sky and knowing his people were out there-- and looking at the stars held particular promise. That all that there is above him now is a distant, dull ceiling of rock, well... it doesn't feel too far off from the cold metal of his previous prison. Just another reminder that he's trapped, cut off from his people.

"It is, isn't it?"

Carlisle won't admit that he misses any part of the jungle, but if there's one thing he longs for on occasion, it's the chance to see the sky. It was there in Bear Den, gone in the Tranquility, then there again in the jungle -- and just like that, it's been taken once more. He may stand on different lands, but the sky above and the vastness beyond it unites all the living realms, tying them together like one giant ocean of stars. That ocean has been blocked here, dammed from reaching Hadriel by the ceiling of the cave, and he can't help but wonder if there are stars beyond the stone, just out of their reach.

"So what brings you here?" he asks after a moment of reflection. "Aside from the sights. Have you taken residence nearby?"

Edited 2016-05-09 21:04 (UTC)

The question snaps Glacius out of his contemplation and nostalgia, taking him slightly off guard; he turns back to face Carlisle and nods slowly, though he isn't about to go into specifics. Given that this is only his second meeting with the clergyman, he doesn't quite feel ready to cough up where he's been living so far, so he'll focus on the other question.

"Nothing brought me here," the alien admits, rubbing his knuckles against his mandibular support absent-mindedly. "I've just... been hiding away for so long after... what happened last month. I didn't want to become a complete hermit, and things seemed more peaceful now than they ever have been in this city, so I decided that it was a good time to try my luck a little closer to the populated areas. That and I... wanted to investigate these lights. They're what drew me out in the first place."

Carlisle's eyes go straight to the ground at the mention of the previous month's events: the assassins are still fresh on his mind, especially since he saw first-hand what some of the people in the city could do when driven to such madness. While he's grateful he didn't run into anyone trying to murder him, he cannot help but be wary of everyone he meets.

Well, almost everyone -- there are some who seemed to have slipped by as exceptions to his initial caution, such as those he knows from another world. He can't deny his inclination to trust Glacius, either; after all, the giant has already helped him once before, leading him from the arena and protecting him from harm. He's not Algidus, no, but he does seem kind under his icy appearance, and that's more than Carlisle can ask of most people when it comes to dealing with a twice-cursed.

"I cannot blame you for wanting to avoid the streets," he admits, picking at the bandage that covers the length of his right arm. "They do seem safer now, but the last month has made me wonder if they ever are."

"Yes," Glacius clicks, bobbing his head--pleased, in an odd way, to know that there's someone else who understands how he's feeling. "And it is particularly difficult for me, given that I already fall under people's scrutiny just because of my appearance. I don't want... people to think they have more reason to see me as a monster..."

But he supposed that's why it's so important that he muster up the strength to put himself out there again. He doesn't like having to prove himself, but he knows that the surest way to counteract what the gods did would be to show what a patient and kind being he really is. And he needs to get out again, needs to pick his work back up when it comes to finding a way out of the city. He can't just hide away any longer.

"You don't—" He cuts himself off, as though realizing belatedly that what he's saying hits too close to his own heart; he rubs at his neck and decides to finish that thought, given he's already started. "You don't need to look like a monster for people to see you as one, unfortunately."

One of the nearby fireflies, as though sensing his self-doubt, alights on his glasses. Even with the somber subject he can't help but smile.

If Glacius had a tongue, he'd be holding it now; after a moment he tucks his head back and lets out a slight, apologetic grunt. "Yes... you have a point. I remember talking to you about the cruelty of humans, about how they can hold contempt even for their own kind..." And he's not about to get into a into a pity contest, here. That doesn't help anyone.

Sighing, the alien eases himself onto a nearby rock jutting out of the grass; ever since his assassin has cleaved away at his hip with a heavy blade, he's been unable to stay upright for long without experiencing pain and stiffness. He detests feeling so creaky but there's not a whole lot he can do about it, not when he doesn't trust anyone around here enough to grant them access to his vulnerable inner layer and allow them to potentially tend to his wounds. Rubbing gingerly at the area around the broken, scratched spikes that protrude from his underbody up through his icy skin, Glacius watches the firefly settle on the Carlisle's eyewear. "It seems you've made a friend."

"So it does," he returns, taking off his glasses so he can try to coax the insect into the jar. It looks as though it'll work for a moment, but the bug takes off again, hanging in the air just out of reach.

He turns back to the icy alien. "As I said, they're rela..." And then pauses watching the way Glacius moves, narrowing his eyes as he attempts to discern what it is he's doing.

It's easier to just ask. "Is something the matter?"

Glacius lifts his head--the question has put a startled look on his face like he's just been caught out. Then he lowers his eyes, a deep but humorless chuckle rumbling in the pit of his throat. "Many things, yes. But I'm not going to bother you with that sort of thing... they are my burdens to bear." As an awkward sort of silence settles between them, it seems like he might leave it at that... and honestly, the alien does want to. But he knows that the second he tries to stand up again his injury will give itself away; he can't even walk properly, not without a noticeable limp.

"... I..." the ice alien begins, then trails off again, because he has no idea how to admit to his injury. He doesn't want to confess even the slightest bit of vulnerability in this dangerous and often unforgiving place, and he really doesn't want to start dwelling on the past month again. He doesn't want to think of the attack, or of the horrible, searing guilt that rendered him helpless during it--guilt that still haunts him like a specter, even now. Glacius' gills flutter uneasily. "... Last month, everyone was and had an attacker. I met mine, but after suffering the gods' manipulations I... I didn't want to hurt anyone else..."

It's only thanks to his interactions with Algidus that he recognizes the signs of unease that cross Glacius. He's not sure he follows the giant's line of thinking, though.

"What did you do, then?" he asks, tucking the jar into his bag and making his way over to where Glacius is sitting.

Edited 2016-05-11 05:48 (UTC)

"Nothing," Glacius shook his head, "Nothing but pay for my horrendous actions while under the Rage's sway. I hurt his wife--and she was nothing but kind to me. I deserved every cut of that blade."

His brow knits with the guilt for a compulsion that wasn't even his own; it's horrific nonetheless that the false gods would do such a thing, and worse that they probably feel nothing for it.

"You are not at fault for what the gods made you do, you know," he offers, trying to rationalize Glacius' troubles, his eyes automatically searching the alien for his wounds. He suspects they're under that icy exterior, what wounds there are made on the body beneath it, but it is too dim for him to truly tell.

Glacius sees Carlisle's eyes searching his body, but he doesn't withdraw just yet--he's confident that despite the obviously damaged spikes at his hip, the clergyman won't be able to detect anything wrong with him since he's had time to mend his icy armor. What he doesn't know is that Carlisle has a better idea of what to look for, given his experience with the ice alien's clone after he'd had his natural armor stripped by a blaze. Carlisle has actually seen the underbody, whereas most people simply assume he's somehow made entirely of ice...

"I am--" the otherworldly being frowns and lets out a piteous growl; this is exactly what his target had told him right after he'd hurt her. It makes those painful memories feel fresh again, and he doesn't understand the forgiveness, especially not from humans. "--That's not right. I'm supposed to be in control of my emotions. And harming innocents is an atrocity-- I should never have been able to be turned..." But what is he supposed to do when his own mind has been turned against him? He doesn't know how to cope with this situation, not at all. The physical pain from the poorly healed gashes is familiar, and he's been able to bear it thus far... it's the emotional torment that has him much more out of sorts, displacing his normally level-headed demeanor.

"Having your emotions turned against you is not a sign of weakness, Glacius," Carlisle insists sharply, his eyes stopping on Glacius' before resuming their search. He makes it no secret that he's looking the alien up and down, his eyes scanning for those glyphs he knows to be hidden beneath the ice. His gaze stops on Glacius' side, his eyes narrowing -- is that a discontinuity in the glyph he sees, or a trick of the light?

His eyes flick back up to the alien's face, his inclination to act as guidance rising. It's hard to kick the habits from his profession, even when the topic hits painfully close to his own troubles. "There are... people in my world who exhibit the ability to compel others to act. To control them, essentially, as the gods do here. And even when they take hold over the mind of a great warrior, it is not that the warrior isn't strong enough to fight. It's that they've not sold themselves to the evils that would grant them such power. It takes far more willpower to resist such temptation."

"Yes, yes," Glacius clicks harshly, bobbing his head--though he's apparently taking the wrong message away from this. "Willpower, exactly. Do you have any idea how much of my life has spent developing that, strengthening it? One of the most important parts of being a warrior of my people has been to master myself--my mind and my body. To keep my emotions in check, to approach every situation with a level head--even in the midst of a heated battled. To not cave in to any poisonous desires, be they for senseless conflict, or for revenge..."

The alien trails off, beginning to sound oddly exhausted. But a moment later he puffs up and rallies again, staring into Carlisle's eyes. "And suddenly I am exempt from all of that just because of the powers of some supposed gods? No. I will not just accept that I can be made to be someone's tool. I will not let it happen again, no matter the cost."

Carlisle rolls his eyes as the point he was making is completely missed. Pride is definitely a trait he's finding common in these icy, alien giants.

"I wasn't saying you were exempt from making amends to those you wronged while under the gods' control," he says with an exasperated sigh. "Just don't overdo the heroics and get yourself killed, lad. You're no good to anyone dead, or even injured."

Down his eyes go again to Glacius' side, this time with a suspicious look toward what he is pretty sure is an anomaly in the underbody beneath the ice.

Edited 2016-05-12 02:55 (UTC)

"I'm better off dead than I am being used to do harm," Glacius affirms quietly, looking down at his hands, which are gripping his knees tightly. There's something he hasn't, and probably will never tell anyone--how close he'd been to spearing himself on his shatters when his lucidity had been returned to him, and he'd seen the fright in Cecily's face. When he realized he'd become the very thing he worked so hard to prove himself not to be: a monster. He doesn't look back up to Carlisle just yet, unaware how close the clergyman is to putting all the pieces together now.

Edited 2016-05-12 03:15 (UTC)

"Your death is not the..."

He trails off, noticing Glacius is lost in his own thoughts rather than paying him any attention. He lets out a polite, but loud, cough.

"It's not the answer, especially not in a place where the gods are rumored to be able to bring the dead back to life. Then you'll be indebted to them, and they'll keep using you."

The cough does get Glacius to look up, his mandibles twitching slightly. "If I can simply be brought back, then it is all the better to use that privilege against them to foil their plans. But I... suppose you have a point. That is a risk, and I cannot allow myself to die here in this city. Not when there is so much I have yet to accomplish." Not when his people are still depending on him. He doesn't like the thought of having to balance lives, but if it comes down to the life of a human or the safety of his people, well... while he would never face that decision lightly, it's one he has had to make before.

That doesn't change the fact that at his core, Glacius does not want to hurt anyone, regardless of what he's been through.

Carlisle crosses his arms, watching a few fireflies light up near his glasses. Not now, insects.

"Then, perhaps, you'll want to take care of your wounds," he says with a nod toward Glacius' hip. "I'm assuming that's what that is under that icy layer of yours."

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