ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hadrielmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2017-03-25 09:33 am
hadrielmods) wrote in hadriel_logs2017-03-25 09:33 am
Entry tags:
- !event,
- amos kamiya,
- anakin skywalker,
- anne of austria,
- armitage hux,
- carlisle longinmouth,
- chara,
- dr. lee rosen,
- ellie,
- emily,
- emily kaldwin,
- frisk,
- glacius,
- hannah washington,
- henry percy,
- inquisitor trevelyan,
- jacob frye,
- jo harvelle,
- maedhros,
- maketh tua,
- natasha romanoff,
- ned wynert,
- nick valentine,
- prussia,
- regis lucis caelum cxiii,
- rey,
- sans,
- sato,
- shuuya kano,
- yehudit/ravine
Event Log: All You Need Is Love
Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for Love's resurrection event!
Where: All around the city
When: March 25th-March 28th
Warnings: Self-love (not that kind), outpourings of affection for friends and loved ones (maybe that kind), general good feelings
What: The event log for Love's resurrection event!
Where: All around the city
When: March 25th-March 28th
Warnings: Self-love (not that kind), outpourings of affection for friends and loved ones (maybe that kind), general good feelings
On the morning of the 25th, everything in Hadriel gets just a little nicer. Or maybe that's your outlook - after all, loving yourself makes it a lot easier to love everything else. That's right, Love is here, and it's time to get your self-acceptance on. From the moment of Love's revival, all the inhabitants of the city will feel a sense of acceptance, appreciation, and love for themselves and for the people around them. They'll be more inclined to give themselves a break, more inspired to show their affection for their loved ones, and more likely to forgive enemies - or at least ignore them, rather than start fights. Overall, the air in the city is full of love! It's up to you whether this affects your character strongly or not at all, but it won't force them to do anything extremely out of character - it will only gently push them toward expressions of love, both platonic and romantic.
Along with this warm, pleasant feeling of love comes the hot springs you all voted for. It appears near the lake, not far from Love's temple, walled-in but with no roof except for the (separate) changing areas. Within you can find a few different pools of differing temperatures, all the better to soak all your worries away!
In addition, all throughout the city you'll find new items in the shops for a short time. Anything that might help express your love for yourself and for others - fluffy blankets, stuffed animals, snuggies, exotic-smelling candles, and some nice bubble bath and skin care products will be left on display - everything in a nice shade of light pink, of course. The buildings will be draped in pink streamers, and you'll also be able to find a variety of delicious sweets - stuff yourself or feed them to your significant other, or maybe leave them on the doorstep of the person who you wish was your significant other.
Enjoy all this love filling the cave, and give yourself a break! You're gonna need it.► This log covers March 25th-March 28th.
► 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 somehow you manage to die during this event, know that we judge you. Also, please tell us here.
skadoodydoos my ass on in here for number two
They like sweet things. Bottom line. What kid doesn't? He did his best to pick out somethin' he figured they'd like. Finds 'em outside Hope's, 'cause damn if he hasn't taken a shine to the kid, and that alleviates his misgivings about the guy somewhat.
Something hums red, bathing their fingertips in a wash of crimson before it fades again. Can't much see what it is, not with the way their hands are wrapped around it, but something about it looks a little like it might be -
Well. Not like it matters. He stops a few feet away, lifting a hand in a lazy wave before grinning at their apparel.]
Nice.
holla holla get a dolla worth of love
All the better for him to admire it with.]
Ellie gave it to me. At first I thought she was kidding, baa-t it looks really good.
[With great love, comes even worse puns. Even if he doesn't, they giggle at their own words, scooting along a little and patting the space beside them. Gonna join them, Sans?]
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He chuckles, and plonks down beside them obligingly.]
You goat to be joking.
[Bit of an obvious one, but it's a classic for a reason.
He only hesitates a moment before digging something outta his pocket. It's a box - simple cardboard, tied up with a pink bow, but it was the best he could cobble together from the shops on short notice.]
Picked this up for ya.
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I guess I feel a little sheepish.
[When he pulls out a present for them, there's surprise, of course. It lasts- it doesn't last as long as usual, just a moment in time where their eyes open and stare down, before that gaze lifts to his face. They don't immediately close their eyes again. They smile.
No signs they're actually scared. Of what he thinks of them, what he thinks of their response. Of their eyes. Within moments they're reaching out, and though they take the box with care...it's just care.]
Didn't have to.
[And even if the words sound a little like admonishment, it's very clear from their tone that they're pleased.]
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[He did his best to find somethin' he figured they'd like. And based on their look - the way they let their gaze slide up to him, the edges of their mouth crinkle, only hesitating a moment before accepting the gift as it's presented - they actually seem...pretty okay with it.
So far.]
Guess Love has a sweet tooth.
[Inside, it turns out, is a...well, it's a small, cute little cake with sugar frosting. He tried to make the top look nice.
It didn't turn out so great.
Hopefully it's the thought that counts.]
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In the end, a huff of a laugh wins out. They make up for it by leaning into him, thumbing the edges of the box and looking down at their prize. Still looks good. Probably tastes good too.]
I love it.
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'S...sugar frosting, I think. Someone...
[Can't remember who. Which is - mildly weird, but instead of latching onto the irregularity, his mind simply lets it slide away, like sand through a sieve.]
Heard you liked it.
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Good. Something that warms their insides as much as the cupcake does; a fierce, tiny fire for the- the um. What they have here. With people.
They aren't so sure they should give it a name, humming contentedly under their breath with a soft 'yeah' as they place the box to the side; something to savor later. In the meantime, their hands go back to their chest, and the humming continues.
And underneath their fingers, their SOUL glows.]
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It strikes him in a rippling sweep of subdued realization, the remembered hiss and whisper of something small and white materializing in his palm while a couple of dragons raged at the city outside.
It's a SOUL.
Someone must'a taught them how to pull it out. No clue who would. He could conceivably bite back the quiet note of surprise in his tone, but - Love's appearance, evidently, has lowered a great deal of his inhibitions for the time being.
Maybe he'll find it in him to mind later.]
Didn't know you could do that.
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They don't- mind him seeing.]
Don't usually. Just kind of-
[Feels okay about it, today. Like they don't mind looking at the very culmination of their being.]
I like how my SOUL is-
Chara's eyes are the same color. Maybe their SOUL was the same color before, too.
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The human SOULs always were colorful. Every shade of the rainbow, and then - red. A piece of scarlet sky, cupped between their fingers.]
A little red star.
[He wasn't real sure if that was an intentional parallel on their part - if they meant a red giant, a red SOUL, or some combination of the two.
Now, he's pretty sure it was.]
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Yeah.
[Like in a picture book. The type of story someone tells you on a cloudless night, looking up at the stars.
It's the sort of thing that fills you with-]
It tries real hard.
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[Looks...a bit like a smile. Like contentment. And hell if it might just be what Love's doing, influencing 'em to be a little less on edge. And hell if it isn't working. Or if it doesn't feel -
If it doesn't feel nice.
In an unfurling of motion that just feels right, he opens his hand until a small, white shape materializes a few inches above his palm. White mote-like wisps of brightness coil around it, fragile, flickering thing that it is, but there's none of the inherent terror that comes with baring his SOUL to them, or to anyone.
Just feels, inexplicably, right in some fashion or another.]
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Sans' SOUL is pretty Determined too. Sometimes flickering, a little grey- more than most monster SOULs are supposed to be, they think. Fragile. They don't look directly at it, don't want to overstep a boundary, cause fear where there isn't any right now.
When their voice comes out, it's very, very quiet.]
Want to try something Chara showed me?
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He ain't quite sure what it is they're suggesting, but it sounds like something private, something personal.
He's shot 'em down far too many times. He pitches his tone quiet, sockets lidded halfway.]
Sure, kid.
[The least he can do. Right?]
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[...Okay.
Shifting round, they cross their legs, SOUL hovering above cupped hands. They take a second to breathe, take a second to feel- nervous, a little. Just a little.
It doesn't stop them from reaching out one hand, carefully seeking out his own, unoccupied one. Guiding it back, until there's a new series of shadows, mingling with the pink light. Skeletal fingers, blocking out red hues.]
...Don't squeeze.
[It's red. It's not a ketchup bottle.]
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Don't squeeze, they say, like he's...like he'd think it's some kinda ketchup bottle. A momentary rasp of amusement in the back of his lack of a throat, and he ducks his head. Let's 'em guide his hand gingerly over the crimson warmth, limning skeletal fingertips in madder.]
I won't.
[There's something about it that
Glows.
Not just in the physical sense, but in some other sense too, something a whole lot harder to immediately grasp - he'd say pardon the pun, but it's Sans. He never apologizes for the puns, and his puns are never pardoned.]
Is that...
[He don't finish the sentence.
Not verbally.
But there's an echo in his skull - in their skull? - that rings with a question, with an awed realized.
Is that you?]
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They wait for him to see first; that he can touch, that it won't hurt them, before they let go. Before they reach out, pads of their fingers only barely brushing across the surface of a small, flickering SOUL. It's warm too, you know. Still alive. Keeps holding on, no matter what, even if only out of duty, or resignation.
It's a very monster kind of Determination, which isn't really determination at all. Perseverance, patience. An understanding that whatever will be will be.
Something like that.
An unfinished question, and their smile grows. It blooms in just the same way as the warmth of their SOUL increases; like it was just- sleeping, a moment ago. In a neutral state of being.
Once upon a time, you said something to them. You didn't gain LOVE, but you gained love.
Can you feel it?
It's me.
And you.]
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Once upon a time, a kid stood atop a mountain, at the very peak, wind tearing at their clothes and their hair. They let go. They tipped the scales. And at the bottom of the drop was a warm voice, the diluted, watery fingers of sunlight that touched motes of dust and pollen to gold. Flowers blanketing beneath.
And underneath it all, a musical thrum of two SOULs coming into alignment. Two halves of a single whole.
A determination that burned, burns with the physiological, psychological, pathological need to
never. give. up.
If he had breath, it would've drained from his nonexistent lungs. The lights in his sockets dilated, twin points of whiteness, and if he looks hard enough - if he focuses on the echo pulsing between his metacarpals - he can see himself through their eyes, monolidded and creased at the edges in amusement, or humor.
It's him.
And it's them.
Even more, it's - it's them as they should've been. A kid, a kid who could smile easily and laugh loudly and be happy without reservation. Everything they are, without cutting that apart, trimming it away for everyone else's benefit. Everything they've felt like they can't be, because it's too much, too angry, too fierce, too -
Too loud.
He's
Not sure what kinda sound he's making.
It's a hitch in sound, something like a laugh, or maybe a sob, if he had the tear ducts for it. A vicious intermingling of disbelief, amazement, relief, awe -
Love.
In his own head, easily repressed. But linked with theirs, there's no barriers.
And no point in keepin' up barriers.]
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And then he didn't. And then he didn't, and the world he'd so strongly grasped onto, shaped and drove himself into because things could always be better, if you just try slipped past him, a little. Behind him. Above.
It circled round and round until he couldn't care, anymore. Not because he didn't, but because he couldn't.
And they know.
They know that right now, there's plugs in his SOUL. A fix that fills in a lot of the cracks, barely discernible past the feeling of running your fingers across something smooth, and feeling a dip. It's - metaphorical, or maybe it's not at all, really; the parts of them that aren't okay, that stuck together like gum and gave the illusion of being someone else. Someone a little better. Who they could've been.
He knows, and they know- it's not really real, is it? This feeling, this calm. The idea that there's nothing to be scared of in the world, that there's no threats. That they are always truly this okay with each other, this trusting. This loving.
This is just- a taste, really. A what if that outside of this moment, they'll probably think about. Wonder if that's ever really been them, if it ever could be. If they've already missed their chance. And it's
It's okay.
Because they both know. They know this is a what if, they know it isn't real. And the one thing Frisk knows, here and now, that's going to keep on in the future?
Is that it's okay.
They're not stuck in that what if alone.]
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It's not really real.
It still scares the hell out of him.
And that's the bottom line, ain't it? The fact that - that even if this, all of this, is terrifying and unknown and unknowable - that he couldn't get away, even if he wanted to.
Except he doesn't want to.
Even before he felt this, this everything, this heavy something-everything-nothing, he's had a thought, see. A thought not worth admitting aloud, 'cause saying it might make it real. A thought he saw played out across the looks of stunned, angry betrayal screwed up in the faces of two dying children, and a thought he saw in the Shadow of a tipped-over bottle over at Delight's.
A thought that there's not a tomorrow worth having without them in it.
Because maybe it's a what if. Maybe it's only a maybe.
But maybes it won't always be maybe. Not forever. Not with things always changing, always moving ahead. Not with how it's all fallen into place like pieces of a heart, slivers of a determination-red sky been pulled into one whole. And they are. And he is. And it's terrifying.
Because they were never broken.
Just a little bit chipped 'round the edge.
And it's small, so very small, but - it's there in the careful leaning forward, the small bump of his skull against their forehead in a closeness that just feels right, an action that's just as spontaneous as it is something half-remembered.]
[And it's there in the words that follow. Quiet, so quiet. Barely a whisper.]
I love you, kiddo.
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And oh, they're not meant to be. Neither them or him, or the city they're sitting in, none of it is meant to be alive. Despite everything. It just kind of is.
A lot of things that aren't meant to be.
Like a whisper into the fabric of his jacket. If he doesn't hear what they say, then that's fine. Not meant to be heard, anyway. It's just mouthed into the fabric against their lips. A secret.
And they want to say, if there's anything they can do-
But they stop themself.
Because everything he feels, this wonderful, heavy, something-nothing-everything, it feels like it's real, like it's a living, breathing thing that exists, like it's actually supposed to. Almost like the real thing.
And if there's anything Frisk knows with utter certainty, it's that despite everything
And they can't stay. They've never been given that option.
It just doesn't exist.
They pretend, with a bump of a skull against their forehead, with their nose, pressing up against a space where another would, could meet, and a quiet inhale, that it's real.]
You too.
[It's okay.
They won't let you down in the End.
They promise.]
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The swelling of a tide and the breaking of it - and the connection quavers to a standstill, a tuning fork ticking out its final throes before it hums into silence.
Breaks and wavers.
Like the hushing out of a sigh.
...
There's
What words are there, in the wake of that? In the wake of everything, the glimpse of who they should be allowed to be, who the world tried harder than anything else to crush into nonexistence, who they were willing and straining to destroy because no one seemed to want it.
If he had a throat to clear, maybe he would.
As it is, his sockets slip shut, and there's a shudder of sound between his teeth.]
Frisk.
[A confession.]
I want...
[Or an admission.]
This? This feeling that - this thing. Feeling okay.
[For once.]
I wanna help you feel that way. More than you have.
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To wish something was over.
Even if they aren't here, that doesn't mean it's over. For monsters, it'll never be over.
Sans doesn't get to QUIT either. And it's not fair.
Probably not fair that they get to attempt to run away, either.]
Oh. You don't have to try for that.
[Don't you remember?
Stars. Shipping charts and sand, soft, lavender soaps and cupcakes with sugar icing. That feeling- this feeling. Feeling okay.
They laugh at him, not out of any sense of cruelty, but because it's rather silly, him insisting that he wants to keep giving them this feeling.]
You and Chara already do that.
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Hard to believe it, just now. When he's caused 'em so much hurt, when he's only ever added to the burden on their shoulders, turned everything into their problem, given them an out and then snatched it away, cruelly.
There's no giving up, or giving in. There's no getting to QUIT.
There's looking for an out.
Still hoping for one, even when it's been stolen from them.]
Heh.
[Chokes him up all over again. They're - they're real good at that, it turns up. Pulls at his SOUL, whether they meant to or not. And there they stayed.]
Well, uh...you deserve it. Feelin' okay.
[And having it feel - real.]
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