hadriel_logs | Event Log: Beetlejuice

Entry tags:

Event Log: Beetlejuice

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Beetlejuice event!
Where: All around the city
When: August 13th-August 18th
Warnings: Scary stories to tell in the dark! Maybe a few goosebumps? Taking a walk or two down Fear Street.

When you wake up on the morning of August 13th - well, you'll notice that morning just doesn't really happen. The light that usually illuminates the cave doesn't start coming on, leaving things as dark as night. As if that's not enough, the light switches don't seem to work either. No matter how many times you flip them, the lights won't come on, although mysteriously the other appliances work as normal.

Afraid of the dark? Don't worry! You have oh-so-kindly been provided with lanterns, candles, and flashlights that sure do love to flicker just when you least want to be terrified. Hey, it's something, right?

Just as you begin to realize the artificial 'sun' isn't coming up, Fear appears to make an announcement to the network. What's not fun about scary stories when you're stuck in a dark cave surrounded by monsters? Nothing, that's what! So have fun, everyone - terrify your friends with that story about a cactus filled with spiders, try that classic scarecrow-falling-from-the-ceiling prank. It'll be a good time for everyone, especially Fear! We're sure no one will hold anything against you. On the morning of August 18th, the lights will finally come on as usual. Let's hope you don't have any nightmares!

► This log covers August 13th-August 18th.
► 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!
► If you scare yourself to death, please let us know here!

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For lighting, Rey leaves the supplies for the people who actually need them. Even without a flame, she can traverse the dark on her own just fine. She couldn't even begin to count the time she had spent in the darkness of the sky prison, traversing the walls and waterways by the map she had committed to memory. And in that darkness also waited various abominations produced by the synthetics' experiments.

While Rey doesn't have the same concerns now that she did in that prison, she still has a similar problem. Her survival instincts aren't something that one can just turn off, leaving potential tricksters to pop out in attempts to startle in jeopardy rather than herself.

Rey will not spook that easily, this much she has told herself. So when she is out scouring the streets, she is on her guard, but not too guarded-- if such a thing is possible.

Somewhere along the trek back home, the paths intersect, leading both Rey and Nick at a crossroad. As if the lantern didn't give his position away enough, his glowing eyes all but immediately confirms his identity for her, and she relaxes.

Without realizing it, Rey has her own light right now: The tips of her fingers on her extended hand casually burn just enough to provide illumination to show the way towards her roommate and friend.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost mistake you for being a couple of fireflies from a distance."

Don't mind her or the fire that doesn't seem to be going anywhere beyond her hand, or melting her flesh.

The moment Rey's fingers ignite, Nick looks her way, his attention drawn. There's a moment just before he gives her a smile where he wishes the Institute had bothered to equip him with night vision -- he's lucky it's a friend who found him him the dark rather than a foe. It's not that he has a lot of enemies in the city, but given some folks, how they feel about the Guard, and what they might be willing to do for rewards from the gods, he figures it's best he keep on his toes.

"I've been mistaken for worse things," he remarks. "I should've known you'd be fine with the weather how it is."

Those glowing eyes of his trail down to her hand, watching the flames. One day, he'll figure out just what it is that gives her that ability. Until then, it's best he not ask too many questions. She'll tell him what he needs to know.

... Or at least he hopes she will. There's a lot between them that goes unsaid these days.

Knowing enough about Nick and where he comes from, Rey doesn't need to wonder what he could possibly have been mistaken for.

"Well, I've certainly worked under worse conditions."

When you're equipped for war, night combat operations have one prepared for situations with low visibility. It would seem that that experience has come in handy in this case.

Ignoring his glowing eyes focusing on the flames in her hand, Rey casts Nick a sidelong look, continuing her stride towards their home while assuming that he's heading the same way. "How about you? Don't suppose you've run into any trouble out here yet, have you?"

Because if he has, she may have a few Words.

"Not yet," he replies, following her lead toward their house, "though I'm keeping my eyes open. I'd like to think people won't stoop to violence to win that prize Fear is offering, but I've been wrong about some of the folks here already."

He may be a detective, but Nick can't know everything, especially when dealing with aliens, skeletons, other synths, and just plain old humans from completely different worlds. He's getting the hang of it though, learning what to expect from his fellow captives. It's not always good, unfortunately.

If there's anything that is giving him trouble, it's that leg; it slows his pace, keeping him lagging behind her despite his best efforts.

Considering some of the people they're stuck with, Rey wouldn't be all too surprised, either.

"Rest assured, if anyone tries then there will be Hell to pay." Though that probably isn't as reassuring as it does in Rey's head. Good job, lady.

After a while, Nick's gait becomes more difficult to ignore. Rey casts him sidelong glances every now and then, making sure that, if he falls again, she'll be quick enough this time to make sure he doesn't meet a hard landing. Fortunately, he's been keeping himself vertical so far.

Once their house is in sight, Rey adds: "By the way, I have something for you when we get home."

Considering the fact that he's sure Rey would counter violence with some of her own, Nick doesn't find her reassurance comforting in the least. At least she's on their side.

And at his side, as well. He's keeping himself upright, but with every bit of pressure worsening the damage in his leg, he knows he should be staying off it, even if that means being cooped up in the house. He's going to have to do something about it eventually.

"Something for me?" he asks, curious, hoping it's not more replacement parts -- as much as he needs them, he does not want her going after them. Not again, and not for his sake. "What's the occasion?"

Violence is not always the answer. While even Rey understands that logic well enough, she can't help but feel rather (a lot) defensive when it comes to those close to her who are threatened. When it comes to her own safety and wellbeing, it isn't nearly as important to her as someone like Nick's.

Which is why she is bringing up what she is now. Her attention glances to Nick's bum leg once again, before shifting to meet his glowing eyes. "Oh, you know. Treat Your Roommate Day, the interdimentional holiday. For roommates."

Joking aside, she is serious about the subject at hand. Nick's condition is worrying, and it's it's only a matter of time before one of them is going to have to do something about it. Until then, Rey just had to figure out a temporary solution.

She quickens her pace to move up the stairs leading to the front door of their home, getting the door open for Nick.

"I'll have to mark that one on my calendar," he returns dryly, uttering a word of thanks as he steps inside the darkened house, his hand flipping the light switch automatically. It remains dark, as expected.

Crossing the room to the coffee table, he empties his pockets, surrounding the lantern he picked up with additional candles. The lantern doesn't do much to combat the darkness, but it's enough to see the paperwork by. From the looks of it, he was in the middle of compiling a list of missing people, as well as dictating some of the transmissions from the network.

"I suppose some of this can wait until the gods decide to fix the lights."

Waving off the flames engulfing her hand, Rey steps into the house after Nick, closing the door behind them. The last thing she wants to do is risk catching something on fire and burning down their home.

In the living area, she approaches Nick to see what he was working on. "It doesn't look so pressing, no." She smirks. "Believe it or not, I don't think the city will implode within itself if the Great Nick Valentine decides to take a few days off from detective-ing."

(Crazy, I know. And no, Rey doesn't care that 'detective-ing' is not a real verb.)

"Hang on a sec," Rey says after a beat. She turns and starts to head towards her room.

Nick watches as Rey heads into the void that is her doorway, the lack of light making it impossible to see what she's doing in there. He sighs -- Rey is right that he can take a break for just a little while. The paperwork keeps him busy though, keeps him focused on what still needs doing in the city. With the Door bringing in new people all the time, there's always something. While Nick realizes it's not as vital as patrolling and keeping the streets safe, handling the reports is a necessity, and it makes him feel like he still has some use, still has a place despite his broken state.

He stifles a second sigh, one from a breath he hadn't needed to take, and gathers up the paperwork into his arms. This place is getting to him, as much as he'd like to deny it.

Barely half a minute later, Rey emerges from the shadows of her bedroom with something long and shiny in hand.

Standing before Nick again, she whips out her arm, holding the midsection of what appears to be a pipe.

No, not a pipe. Not really a pipe at all.

"Made you this. You need to start using it." There is no room for niceties here. What she presents to her friend isn't a request or even a simple suggestion, but carries the rare authoritative tone that a soldier ought to.

Several seconds pass once Rey presents her gift -- Nick legitimately can't figure out what to say. He's confused for a moment: he's pretty sure that's a pipe she's offering him in the dark. His eyes trail up it to see the crook, then down to the rubber knob, piecing together just what this is she's offering him.

No, not offering, her tone says plainly enough -- commanding him to use whether he likes it or not. He takes the pipe-turned-cane with his bare hand, giving it a better look. He can't help but feel old all of a sudden, as though age would wear him down the same way it does any normal person. It does, in a way -- his bones don't break as easily, but they feel the wear and tear from time passing.

He sighs, his eyes flicking back to her as his mind turns over the trouble his leg has given him since his run-in with the deathclaw. "It's that obvious?"

With a look that practically screams 'Are you fucking kidding me?', Rey folds her arms once Nick has taken the little gift.

"It'll help if you don't put much pressure on that leg until we have the parts to get it fixed," she says, mostly ignoring his query. If his lagging behind on their way home has been any indication, he should already know just how obvious his condition is.

Unlike humans, one can't expect a synthetic like Nick to be able to heal with time. More than anything, time is the one thing that he has working against him, as the longer they hold off on this, the worse his state is going to get. But he doesn't want her asking Hope for any more favors for whatever in return. Hard as it is, she has to respect that, until Nick is willing to let her do the next better thing to help him.

For now, this is the next best thing, even if it does make him look like an aging old man.

Nick's nose wrinkles. "Rey, I don't—"

But then he stops with a sigh, his defiance subdued. There's no point in being obstinate when the truth is right there in front of them both, glaring at him with every slow step he takes. His eyes trail to the cane in his hand, his metal fingers clasping the crook of the pipe. There's not much he can do about his synthetic nature -- about the fact that, unlike regular flesh-and-blood people, he can't just go to the clinic for healing or trust that the gods will know how he works enough to put him back together, should worst come to worst.

So he can't put this off forever. He doesn't want Rey going out and making deals with Hope to get parts for him, nor does he trust the gods enough to bargain for the parts himself. She's right, though: something needs to be done before the bent shaft in it becomes a broken one, and it's not a part that's so easily patched. She's trying to compromise, to make sure he takes care of himself -- and in doing so, takes care of herself, as well. He can't be both demanding and stubborn if he wants any ground to stand on in this argument.

Setting the rubber end on the floor, he gives the cane a try. It's sturdier than him at this point, and perfect for his height. She took her time to make sure it would work, that it would be useful to him -- so he'd better use it. Her tone says that she won't take no for an answer on this.

"Thanks, Rey."

He doesn't even need to finish that sentence for her to know where that thought was headed, and at first Rey opens her mouth to keenly argue against her roommate's willful stubbornness.

Fortunately, that inclination is short-lived, when Nick concedes. Her shoulders slack and posture relaxes, like she's breathing a sigh of relief without an actual sigh.

"You're welcome," she says in place of the many defenses she's long since cooked up in her head when anticipating Nick's contention. Rey is glad that she doesn't have to fight with him on this, though. She doesn't want to fight. "Had to make it myself, since the canes they had at the shops were... Well, they were bad."

To say the least.

Now Nick can feel like a jerk if he ever decides to let the gift of Rey's 'hard labor' go to waste.

And he absolutely will. He takes a few steps around the den, getting used to leaning on it. He does admit that keeping the pressure off his busted leg is a relief, if only a mental one -- he does not want to have his leg collapse under him again, especially not in front of Rey.

"Do I look as old as I feel?" he asks dryly.

Rey falls silent as Nick gets a feel of the cane. While she wishes that such a thing wasn't necessary to begin with, she feels oddly proud of her work. That's some excellent welding work, goddammit.

She then snorts at his response.

"You look like a synthetic that just barely crawled their way out of a trash compactor. Age has got nothing to do with it."

At the very least, she can offer some words of comfort (if you can consider that consolation in any way helpful). If it was the other way around, Rey would appreciate the same thing.

...Probably.

Despite his accepting the gift begrudgingly, he takes that remark rather well, the corner of his mouth crooking upward into a smirk.

"Fair enough. At least I might be able to do some patrolling now."

He's trying to look on the bright side, but optimism isn't always his strongest suit. He adds, just in case Rey has any qualms with that last statement -- "But I won't push it too hard. I promised I wouldn't."

By now Nick should know that tough love is the language that Rey speaks best.

Rather than reacting harshly, she brings out a good natured smile.

"I know. I just figured that, if you're going to be doing that, you may as well not fuck up your leg more in the process. Put hard work into patching that up so far, you know." She waves a dismissive hand. "Besides, you don't strike me as the type who'd take advantage of the whole 'long-term bed rest' thing."

She gets this because Rey is exactly the same way herself.

Nick grimaces, knowing well enough that tough love is all Rey knows, sometimes. He can handle that; it's his doubts about himself he struggles with.

"Think I've had enough bed rest to last me a lifetime," he says, his tone embittered, "and it's only been a month. Seems like we've lost a few folks in the meantime, so it's even more important to get back out there."

The smile fades as Nick just has to point out such a down note.

"You win some and you lose some, I suppose."

Lucky for Rey, she hasn't lost anyone seriously important to her so far. That's bound to change eventually, she knows, because people coming and going is just a fact of life. Until then, she can at least try and enjoy the company.

"Yeah." Nick's brow knits together, the worry that someone he cares for -- Rey, Maketh, Glacius -- will just up and vanish one day, not a trace left behind as they're pulled back through the Door and thrust into their own worlds. That might not be so bad, for some, but for others...

Well, they'll cross that bridge if they come to it. No sense in worrying about it now. Not when there are plenty of other things that raise concerns.

"I noticed you're out more often than usual these days," he starts, keeping the tentativeness from his tone as he edges toward a subject that's been on his mind: that phone call from Muscovy, and what the boy told him. "I figured you might be trying to pick up the slack left by the folks who've disappeared."

No use in worrying about the inevitable outcome. Rey knows how these things usually end, and has long since made her peace with that.

Or so she'd like to think. Really, she has no idea how she would react if anything were to happen to Nick, whether it be here or he ends up vanishing back to his own world someday. It isn't a thought that she enjoys entertaining, not knowing the outcome of her friend's fate after all that time he had spent trapped in that vault he told her about.

Between Nick's words and the way he says them, Rey's mind is wrenched to a much different place.

"A little bit, yes. Just didn't think you'd want me hovering over you all of the time." She pauses. "And, um. I'm not running any errands for more parts from Hope again, if that's what you're worried about."

At least, that's what she assumes his tone is implying, rather than the possibility that Muscovy might've already spilled the beans about Bianca to Nick. It wasn't like Rey was trying to keep it secret, though.

The creases in his face deepen. He doesn't mind her company and hasn't really thought about her hovering over him, but he can see where she'd want to give him some privacy on occasion. Even before his injury, he'd end up working on the couch downstairs when she came home -- they didn't even have to talk. He just liked the company. Made him think of Ellie; it made the place feel a little like home.

"Glad to hear it," he replies. "Not that I doubted you."

He pauses again, then adds:

"I, er. Got a phone call the other day. From Muscovy. Said he'd seen you out and about."

It's more of a relief than Nick probably realizes, knowing that he wasn't suspecting her of sneaking around behind his back again. Not in that way, anyway. Or, rather, she isn't sneaking around him him even now, but she wanted to make a few things clear.

His response merits a confused expression and raised brows, though.

"Did he?" Rey asks slowly, not surprised that the kid had paid notice to her being out, if nothing else. He seems to follow her from a distance, perhaps thinking she wouldn't notice him or not caring whether she did or not. "Is that all he said?"

Sources point to a resounding no, but she'd like to make sure first rather than just assuming. It isn't exactly a subject that she knows how to even begin to approach.

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