hadrielmods: (Default)
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ ([personal profile] hadrielmods) wrote in [community profile] hadriel_logs2017-06-21 10:38 am

Event Post: Ghosts That We Know

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for the Ghosts That We Know event
Where: All over the city!
When: June 21st-29th
Warnings: Emotional trauma, ghost murder, long slow deaths


It's been awhile since something really awful happened. Or maybe it hasn't - maybe you had a really awful day just yesterday. Don't worry! Things can always get worse. And they sure will, because when you awaken on June 21st, you'll find yourself haunted.

Maybe it's a relative, someone who raised you and loved you deeply. Maybe it's a friend, someone close to your heart. Maybe it's a former - or current - lover, someone you've given your affection to. Maybe a mentor, a coworker, a person who doesn't even know you love them. Whoever they are, they're someone who matters very much to you - and now you're seeing them where you shouldn't. They're haunting you, taking each step alongside you, and they're exactly like the one you love.

Over time, you'll feel yourself growing weaker as the ghost gains strength. Being able to see your loved ones again is a double-edged sword, because they're sucking the life from you. What are you going to do? Die, so that they can live? Or kill them to preserve your own life? And what do they want you to do?

By the 26th, the ghosts will have taken enough energy from you to be solid. That means you won't be the only one who can interact with them anymore - and maybe your friends here have opinions of their own about what should happen to that ghost draining your life away. But hopefully someone will do something, or else you'll die along with your ghost on the final day of the event.

Hey, didn't we get a few psychologists here in our cave city? Man, you guys are gonna be booked up after this one.

► This log covers June 21st-29th.
► 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 can't bring yourself to murder someone you love, no one else is around to lend a hand, and you die - please let us know here.
circumitus: Completely decimated and my hand was all bloody and covered with glass. Weird dude, never saw him again ever since. (got into a bar fight last night)

29th.

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-06-22 03:22 am (UTC)(link)
Undine's gone.

Rey tries not to think about it much, but it's difficult to ignore. One minute the woman was there, and the next... there's no longer an Undine Stransky in this world. Rey doesn't know what to make of that. That it's just her again, alive in place of a good woman.

After what happened there, she can't be at home anymore. Can't be reminded of what happened, or the memory of blood and faded whispers. She's gone; been taken away again. She wasn't real, but she was here. That's all that mattered. The woman who loved Rey so much that she gave up her life not once, but twice...

Others had to feel the same. Not just in Rey's place, but also in the phantoms of their own pasts.

Jack is not so different, it seems. The last she saw this newcomer, she was less inclined to help; she had enough problems of her own at the time. It isn't about altruistism right now, so much as...

Well, she needs a distraction. People are going to die if everyone just does nothing, lets themselves waste away as Rey had been so willing to. As she still is willing, and unable to succeed.

"Should listen to them," Rey says in agreement with the ghosts of Jack's false memories. Not that she knows that, having that little bit in common with this man.
wynand: (you do things that)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-06-22 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
There's heat running down his cheeks, even as he can't quite stand. His mother is smoothing his hair back with one wrinkled hand. His vision quivers as though torn through with static. His father's hands are heavy on his shoulders. Real. Real. Real.

Jack shakes his head. He recognizes the voice, the words, but he can't place her name.

"I just got them back," he whispers. His limbs have never felt so heavy, even when soaked to the bone. As though the chains on his wrists have solidified into something real, dragging him to the floor.

"They're real, aren't they?"

"Of course we're real," his mother breathes. If he shuts his eyes, he can still see her photograph. A smile, three smiles, framed in the fabric of his wallet. A farmhouse. A family. He remembers them. He remembers every moment of them, and they'd loved him, and they'd raised him.

The hard beat of his heart has begun to slow already, as though pumping viscous liquid in lieu of blood.
circumitus: You were in the girls bathroom yelling at some random chick because you thought she stole all the urinals. (that's why you were kicked out.)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-06-24 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
It's the same as it had been with Undine, who had been amid the slow and agonizing process of draining Rey of her life. Did that make her less real? Make what they shared together over the last week any less real?

No, the moments exist, and the memories will remain. She has to keep telling herself that, before she lets the anger and despair consume her.

If this happened to her, to Jack...

She just thinks of the many people she's seen with their company. How many of them are dead now?

"They're real enough to be killing you," Rey tells him firmly. "As long as they exist, they'll only make you weaker."

What should she do? Wait for him to accept that? Watch him die? He looks like he's on his way out, just as Rey was not long ago. Shit.
wynand: (these little bitches)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-06-25 01:21 am (UTC)(link)
("Snap that sweet puppy's neck," croons Suchong, a million years ago and under the sea and he squeezes his eyes shut, as if bracing himself for that mental impact will lessen the effect of the statement that came after, the weeping child on the radio, the high-pitched yelp-whine and the crack of snapped bone.)

They're real. His mother has his cheek cupped in one hand. The wet of her tears has begun to fall onto his hair like dew on the strands on a spider's web.

"That's okay," he says. He's trying, trying not to cry, and he's failing. His father is stone-faced, grim.

"You can let us go, son," he says, gently.

"It's okay," Jack says again. It's okay. "I'll wake up again. I always do. It's okay."
circumitus: Insert Warmer song lyrics here. (good lord knows that i'm greedy)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-06-25 01:55 am (UTC)(link)
He's not wrong. Unless something ever happens to Hope, they'll keep on dying and coming back. The only thing that troubles Rey is whether or not they'll come back as real as these ghosts. Sure, they have the same memories, but...

That's a whole other can of worms she doesn't want to open right now. Neither does she have that sort of time.

"Can do it for you," she tells the man and woman. She'd rather have their permission than to murder these people in cold blood.

There's a knife in her tech pocket. She could use it, if it means saving another life. Who's to say these phantoms will even last long without their source of energy to siphon from?

Chances are, her mother thought the same thing. That's why... That's why she did what she did. She figured it out, because Undine was always smart like that. Always knew what to do.

No, not always...
wynand: (but who CARES)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-06-25 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
"Do what?" He can barely hold his head up enough to look at her, to note the hardened purpose in her gaze. What's she mean by that? He knows...he knows what she means, of course he does, but why would she? It's not worth that, surely. He knows how much his life is worth. He knows, he knows because he's lived and died in the span of hours, days, under the same city. He's reliable, and he's loyal, and he can do all the hard, desperate work that everyone needed him to do.

He came back. He always came back.

"She's right," his father is saying. He's looking at Rey now, almost pleadingly. "We're killing you, son."

"I've died before."

His mother sucks in a breath at that, one hand reaching up to cover her mouth in apparent horror. Jack shakes his head, jaw tightening stubbornly.

"It's not so bad," he says, but it's a doomed effort to rub away the tears welling anew in her eyes. "Really."
circumitus: 'Cause it makes him feel like a fish. (says he likes to get high and swim)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-06-25 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
Being someone who's died plenty of times herself to know what it feels like, it's a mindset that Rey can understand.

Doesn't necessarily mean she agrees with it. Too many people think of death too lightly here, and it isn't something she can stand to get used to.

"How long do you think they'll last once you're gone and they have nothing left to live off of?" Rey tells Jack. "It could be quick, it could be painful. But they're not like us. They won't get to stay -- that would never be allowed."

She's less certain that this is something that would happen, but if Undine was positive that her death would cure Rey of her ailment, then it had to work both ways. It had to. Undine didn't die for nothing.

Her eyes turn to the parents once again. "He'll get better after it's done. Was able to get better after my mother..."

No, don't think about it. Don't fall back into that moment when she woke up and that woman was gone, like she never existed in the first place.
wynand: (going to see your relatives)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-06-25 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
She speaks with an authority he can't deny. In fact, something in him is already reeling back, letting her assume that position of power. And something else, still, balks at that. They're his mother and father. He can't just let them go. His own life is easily gambled, easily pawned off to the highest bidder. Ryan, Atlas, Tenenbaum, Suchong - let them all have him.

If he can still have this, it's worth it. Every moment of it.

"You don't know that," Jack croaks, trying and failing to shrug away the whispers of "She's right, she's right" murmuring just over his shoulder. They're flesh and blood, swelling into solidity, and he's fading far slower than any death in Rapture had been. It's not particularly a kindness, but it's...he can live with this, he knows.

He knows he can.
circumitus: that pet you just couldn't keep (putting the dog to sleep)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-06-25 07:00 pm (UTC)(link)
The phantoms' response mirrors an all too recent memory that aches and twists in her chest. Rey doesn't blame or resent Nick for what he did, for putting Undine down. It was at her request that he do so, and that's exactly like that woman. Comforting, sweet, and self-sacrificial to the very end.

If it were possible for Rey to take her place, to die instead of Undine...

In the end, it was Undine's choice. Rey might never understand it, but she can understand the scene playing out before her. A parent should never outlive their child, Rey's heard someone say once. Who was it? Does it even matter?

"You're wrong," she says, taking out the knife and inching towards them. "My mother knew it -- she knew what would happen. She was smart, and brave, but she didn't want to spend even her remaining moments living with what she had done." Her eyes cast to the man and woman again. "Do you really want them to suffer through that?"
wynand: (but who CARES)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-06-25 07:47 pm (UTC)(link)
He manages little more than a choked sob-like sound, hitching in the back of his throat as he buries his face in one hand. She's moving closer. There's the glint of a weapon in her hand and he should leap up to defend the pair of them but the limbs that could run for hours, that could heave a chemical thrower and an entire armory on his back, that could wrestle with a Big Daddy and then lift his Sister and put a gentle hand to her brow, have become leaden and dull, unresponsive.

A farmhouse. A family. A photograph in his wallet. A gift-box whose contents he can't remember. They told him that he was special. He was born to do great things.

They were right. They were right.

"I thought..." The words swell, a bubble of sound in his throat, and burst. "I was afraid. They weren't real. There was a puppy, and a doctor, and Ryan called it nostalgia, and..."

He's not making any sense. He stares at the flesh-and-blood constructs, drinking them in, hungrily.

"They're real."
circumitus: You were in the girls bathroom yelling at some random chick because you thought she stole all the urinals. (that's why you were kicked out.)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-06-25 08:53 pm (UTC)(link)
His babbling really don't make any sense, but grief does that. Makes everything muddled, nonsensical. Sometimes the pain is so real, it makes you want to die.

Rey isn't going to argue the authenticity of these mirror images. They're real enough to be seen, touched -- to kill and be killed.

"Yes," she agrees, this fact still not deterring her resolve for what has to be done in order to fix this. Undine was right; she had to be. This had to be the only way to fix things. That's what she chose to die for. It was her choice.

The same choice that these two constructs are making right now.

She looks to them, gripping the knife in her hand so tight her knuckles pale. "Is this what you both want?"

There's no room for disagreements. They have to die together in order to save the one who loves them.
wynand: (going to see your relatives)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-06-25 09:23 pm (UTC)(link)
"Don't let him die," his mother pleads quietly. Her chin is trembling, the lenses of her glasses fogged with her tears, but there's not an ounce of hesitation in her voice. "Please. Just...keep my baby safe."

"You do what you have to, girl." His father is comparatively gruff, as if that will be enough to mask the thickness of the emotion in his voice. "You do what you have to if it keeps our Jack alive."

Jack shakes his head, a frantic jerk from side to side. "No, no - "

"It's all right." She kisses the top of his head, brushing his hair down against his waxen forehead, slick with cold sweat. "We love you, Jack. We love you very much."

The thump of her footsteps across the hardwood floor. The smell of shoe polish and oiled leather and cigarette smoke as his father reclined in his favored, worn armchair. The scatter of seeds, hissing across the grass as the chickens congregated around his mother in a flurry of orange-and-brown feathers. Memories flaring across his synapses with such intensity, such vivid recollection, that they have to be - they have to be real.

But he can't manage more than the soft, rasping choke of a child who simply doesn't understand grief.

"Don't go."

Don't leave him to the doubt that they ever existed.
circumitus: (her comfort is the gun)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-07-03 03:58 am (UTC)(link)
Giving them time together to say their goodbyes is the least Rey can do. She had been unconscious when Undine had begged Nick for 'help'. At least Jack can see them one more before she does what she needs to, tell him that they love him.

"We should go," she tells the man quietly, hoping that Jack doesn't hear. "He shouldn't have to see this."

They might not be real, they might just be figments created by the gods... But no one wants to watch their loved ones cut down before their eyes.

It doesn't feel right. None of this does. The couple are at least willing to give their lives, to sacrifice themselves for the sake of their child. That has to mean something.

That has to mean everything, or so Rey wants to believe.
wynand: (going to see your relatives)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-07-03 05:16 am (UTC)(link)
His mother presses her lips to his forehead. Her face is wet, and so is his. He grasps at her wrist with one hand, desperate. Don't go. Don't go.

His father's already standing. Unlike Jack, unlike his wife, his eyes and cheeks are dry. He's smiling, a thin, sad, pained thing.

"We're proud of you, son," he says quietly. "You're special."

You were born to do great things.

His mother manages to extricate herself from Jack's grip - her fingers are more solid, more powerful, than the fading, pale spiders of his hands as they grasp for her, weakly.

She, too, is smiling as she walks, slightly timid, hesitant, but with the set of her shoulders firm and unrelenting.

"We're ready."
circumitus: I have big plans. I'm learning spanish this month. (i need an office)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-07-09 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
They've said their goodbyes, but it's not enough. It'll never be enough, Rey knows that. Not all the time in the world could have been enough for Rey to spend with Undine. To be with her, and loved in a way that she never knew and could only imagine.

Now, imagining is all she has, because that wasn't really Undine. Might've walked and talked the part, down to the very last moment where she gave her life for Rey's.

It's that moment that confirms that she needs to do this. Even if people do come back, it's not what their loved shadows would want, and there are reasons to doubt...

Gripping the knife, Rey carries herself outside of the room, along with the man and the woman haunting the dying man. Jack doesn't need to see this. No one should have to.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I'll make sure it doesn't hurt."

She's good at that. Killing.
wynand: (youre this bitch ass guy with a sweater)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-07-09 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
He's still grasping after them as they go, the woman tearful but resolute, the man's shoulders set in that same, firm purpose.

"You take care of our boy now," he says, perhaps a shade gruffly but no less sincere for it. "You take care of him, and make sure he don't blame himself for this, all right?"

"You're doing the right thing."
The woman is kinder, smiling through her tears. "Thank you."

Still in earshot but out of sight, Jack tries to stand.

He fails.
circumitus: She literally cut my boxers off with a 8" chef's knife and had her way with me. (tomorrow never knows)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-07-09 04:47 am (UTC)(link)
Their words give Rey pause; asking for a promise that she isn't sure she can give, but doesn't have the heart to decline. Maybe this is how it was for Undine and Nick. Rey wasn't conscious to know; Nick had taken her to the river, far away from where Rey would wake up and see. But it doesn't take seeing to know.

She knows what comes next. Luckily, so do they. There is little comfort in that, as she approaches the woman first. A woman who, much like Undine, was scared, tearful, but willing to die for the one she loved. It's enough, for now.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, taking the woman by the arm with one hand and, knife in the other, driving the blade between her neck and shoulder. It's done with such strength and precision that it severs the subclavian artery as Rey gives the hilt a quick twist like a lever.

It's a good death. A quick, clean death, if one could ever think of one as such. She doesn't let go, a pain stinging in her own chest while the blood of this woman floods her insides.

As she starts to lower the woman, regret creeps into her expression. What's done is done. There's no turning back. "I'm sorry," she says again.
wynand: (because even god hates you)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-07-09 05:32 am (UTC)(link)
It would be consoling, he should think, on some level, if he could say that he felt it. When he remembers this moment with unnerving clarity, sheathed in titanium and hot as boiling lead, it will fall away from him in pieces, the understanding that the precise moment in which her throat opened would forever escape him. One of the two would not ease his agony by increments; as long as one of them remained, Jack weakened, incrementally.

She's lowered to the ground, and she's still, her eyes glazed and glassy. More real in death than she ever had been in life.

The man chokes back a sob, but he doesn't cry out. He utters no names.

Neither of them can recall what they may have been.
circumitus: Completely decimated and my hand was all bloody and covered with glass. Weird dude, never saw him again ever since. (got into a bar fight last night)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-07-09 06:08 am (UTC)(link)
Some blood drips over her hands, on the blade of the knife that she yanks out of the woman's body before laying her to rest. Her eyes, though open, are swiftly closed as Rey draws her clean hand over them. There is peace there. No terror on her expression. No pain. It's over; it's done.

"I'm sorry." The words repeat like a broken record. As if she says them enough times, it'll actually mean something. She doesn't bother cleaning the blood off as she stares down at the woman's calm, freshly dead face. "I'll do my best," she says, finally in response to the couple's pleas just seconds ago, and yet seems like years. Lifetimes.

Rey makes a point to extend the same courtesy to the man, striking the knife against the back of his skull. The cutting edges slice through his brain, killing him instantly.

She lays them together, on their backs where their wounds can't be seen. There can only be so much done for the blood, but she tries.

Trying is all she can do, really.
wynand: (going to see your relatives)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-07-09 06:39 am (UTC)(link)
It's like waking from slumber. Like the gasp of a drowning man as his head breaches the water's surface, the bright cast of flames reflecting across the liquid dark of the surrounding ocean. He is not drowning, but he may as well be - his great heart thumps in the hollow of his chest with renewed vigor, like a bolt of adrenaline has shot through from spine to fingertips.

His back arches as he tries to stand, fails. Tries to rise, and fails again. His limbs, roaring with the vitality they so recently lacked, are still clumsy, uncoordinated. As though trying to walk with legs of syrup, like rousing himself with limbs half-asleep.

"No." He's stumbling, grasping at the doorway. Glimpses two pairs of legs, the gleam of red down someone's blade.

He sags against the door, and stares.

Is this what Atlas felt, when the sub exploded? Is this what he endured, for every moment that followed? He waits for the red tide of anger to consume him, then - a vicious hunger to watch the woman who killed them wither and die, to watch her be crushed beneath his heel. He waits for the inevitable inflorescence of rage that took Atlas so quickly, the hunger to see Andrew Ryan suffer for stealing the most important people from his life away from him.

But he simply stands there, limply. Hardly standing at all.

Wanting to cry out for mother and father; forever rendered mute, because he can think of nothing to say.
circumitus: Otherwise you'd be a dad by now. (thank god you're gay)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-07-10 02:25 am (UTC)(link)
Despite the consequences, Rey doesn't leave.

While Jack regains his strength, she stays. Placing the corpses down beside one another, closing their eyes and folding their hands over their own chests. The way she arranges them, they might as well be sleeping, but one ought to know better...

She's cleaned the knife. Specks of blood stain her clothes, her hands, but the puts the blade away when Jack comes to. If nothing else, she did a clean job.

By then, she's found a sheet. Rey is covering them as she notices Jack standing nearby out the corner of her eye. She doesn't turn to look him in the eye, though.

Nothing she says will excuse what she's done. Nothing she says will offer solace. She just finishes what she's doing, draping the dark sheet over the two bodies.
wynand: (and then you go underwaeter and)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-07-10 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
The past few moments blur together into one continuous tone drilling into the center of his skull, soft and imprecise, and the flecked crimson on her front, the white drape over the pair of cadavers in the corner, belie the quiet scene.

"They were real." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than anyone else. His gaze is listless, the words half-mumbled. "They were here."

They were real.

"They felt...real."

Tell him they were real.

Please.
circumitus: She literally cut my boxers off with a 8" chef's knife and had her way with me. (tomorrow never knows)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-07-13 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
"They were real enough," Rey replies, not moving from her kneeling position beside the two bodies, her elbow over her knee. "But they were killing you, and they had the sense to not want that to happen."

Whether that was real or not, Rey doesn't know. It's enough, isn't it? The hole ripped open from where her mother had once filled is gone again. Undine is dead. Rey is not. That's how this story started, and how it's decided to continue.

She releases a heavy sigh, bowing her head. She doesn't expect Jack to forgive her, but the least he can do is respect the wishes of those who wanted nothing more than to save him.

"They didn't suffer."

It might not be much consolation, but it's better than knowing that they died horribly.
wynand: (because even god hates you)

[personal profile] wynand 2017-07-13 01:31 am (UTC)(link)
A necessary cruelty, the same way the removal of an ADAM slug from a fragile, pale little body was? A necessary cruelty, in the same vein as the splicers that were once people, all with goals and aspirations, artists and doctors and painters and scientists and the most brilliant and brightest minds in all of Rapture, but who had become so twisted and broken that the only choice was to kill them before they tore themselves apart?

They were hurting him. They were killing him. And they'd made the choice, hadn't they? He can still feel his mother's phantom fingertips combing through his hair, the flare of a sepia-toned photograph in his mind's eye as it had erupted across his consciousness in an unprovoked reminder of what he needed to return to.

He should say any number of things. He should forgive her, or - something. Anything besides what prickles at him next, what dries his mouth and leaves him staring emptily, dully, at the open air in front of him.

"...I can't remember their names." The words thin into something agonized, anxious. "I can't...why can't I remember their names?"

They were just here.

They were just here.
circumitus: Because you're marine grade... You rascal. (you need 400 proof or marine proof)

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-07-13 01:24 pm (UTC)(link)
With a sidelong look, the questions multiply. If only it wasn't such a terrible time to ask most of them. Rey pushes herself onto her feet, shooting a querying look at Jack. Maybe he's just in shock, or maybe this is closer to home than she wants to think.

"You should probably go. Rest. Can bury them for you."

Just like Nick did for Undine.

These things weren't monsters. They didn't come to hurt the ones they love, even if that's exactly what they did. Unlike the malicious doubles, they don't deserve to be discarded and left out in the open as a constant reminder that they really are gone.

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