hadriel_logs | Event Log: Bad End

Entry tags:

Event Log: Bad End

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for the Bad End event
Where: All over the city!
When: August 23rd-September 5th
Warnings: Bad futures, awkward conversations, smashed mirrors

You wake up to find a mirror at your bedside - a pretty nice one, too, a silver hand mirror perfect for fixing your hair in. Only when you try to do that, it's not your gorgeous reflection that you see. It's something else - a terrible future, just about as bad as anything you could imagine for yourself.

Maybe you see your loved ones dead on the ground, and you know it's your fault. Maybe you see the goal you've been working so hard for pulled out of your reach forever. Maybe you see someone you've hurt in the past ruining your life. Maybe you see your hot girlfriend leaving you to shack up with your worst enemy. Whatever you see, it really sucks, and you know that it's possible. This future could happen if you make the wrong choices, give in to your worst impulses.

Break the mirror if you want, but you'll see the same vision in any reflective surface in the city. You can't break them all, but you can sure try. And what will you do when you see your best friend's vision - and it features you betraying them?

Seek reassurance, give reassurance, lash out, vow to yourself that you'll never let it turn out that way, sink into the depths of sorrow because you feel like the future you see is inevitable. Whatever you do, it won't take away those visions - not until the event is over.

► This log covers August 23rd-September 5th.
► 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 handle the idea of your dark future, or maybe you just accidentally slip and fall on a mirror shard, let us know here.

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I wasn't planning on it.

[Simply.]

But I can attempt to do so if it would make you more comfortable.

You are an odd thing.

[Perhaps she's made a mistake with her game, trying to turn him into an officer. It's hard to tell and she might not be the right person to do it. Stars know she shouldn't be playing games with Imperial training protocols. But she's decided not to hurt him - not on purpose, at least - and that counts for something, doesn't it?]

Sit with me.

[She's quiet for a moment.]

I would like that.

Alright.

[He rests his chin on his knees then, looking out to the water. He's still and he's quiet, calming without really attempting to be.

Maketh seems to have her own demons to bear. She's not unlike his third handler, the one alive at home- steadfast, focused, but haunted by some kind of weight that he's never been able to identify. It's never been his place to ask- maybe someday. Not now.]

They are attempting to weaken our resolve, [he finally says quietly, after several minutes of just sitting in silence,] it won't work. Resisting torture is part of my training. This is- ineffective.

[Maketh clicks her teeth, smiling out at the water. He's intelligent, Rome. Sometimes she likes to call him clever, though Maketh isn't quite sure he's earned that. Not yet.

But give it time. Just a little bit of time.]

Good, soldier. You know psychological warfare. This is all rather theatrical, isn't it? No good at all.

[She grins.]

They should be starving us, but they're not that clever.

[His back straightens a tiny bit at that, good. It's as if she's praising a dog and Rome feels a familiar spark of pride deep in his chest at the thought. Still, it's not enough to divert his attention from the conversation and he nods, thoughtful.]

They want us alive. [Clearly.] They want us- passionate.

[Which is, frankly, antithetical to his nature. Rome glances down toward the water again, and just faintly, he catches the glimmer of his own face, dirt-smudged and wild, firmly behind bars.

He keeps looking. It means nothing to him.]

You said it was theatrical- theater tricks make civilians passionate. They don't have the experience to know how to walk past them.

[Maketh huffs.]

Correct on all counts. But they have miscalculated, see? Because these thoughts are not new. They were pulled straight from our skulls and we have already dealt with them. Even the civilians. It's only a momentary distraction.

[Hardly devastating enough to matter.]

But. No need to be stoic. Not yet! Let them think it worked. The more we rage, the more they feed and think themselves smarter.

Hm.

[He's not sure how he feels about that. In one respect, he knows that she's right- everything that the gods have thrown at him, even Ryan's death- they're things that he's known before, things that he's already experienced and live in his head.

On the other hand, he doesn't know if he could be more frightened of something he doesn't know. Maybe it wouldn't be as effective.]

I cannot risk losing control of my other nature, ma'am.

[He warns her quietly.]

Allowing myself to give into the fury would feed it, and then it could consume me. An untamed beast deserves only death.

[And he does see himself as an animal - a weapon. Maketh watches him for a moment, considering. Sometimes that's useful. A good soldier is a blunt weapon, devastating when aimed correctly. But there is a limit to how useful even the best weapon can be, and she intends to make something more of Rome.

Give it time, she thinks. See where it goes.]

You ought to know this fury of yours.

[She shows him her teeth.]

Know where it starts. Where it ends. Otherwise your enemies will use it against you. Understand?

[He doesn't understand, not in the slightest. Romulus has seventy-someodd years of training telling him otherwise, forcing his perfect control for fear of the damage he could do if he was ever let off of the chain. His fighting already carves a warpath, but a controlled one, a fire that you burn to take down the overgrowth in the forest. If he lost that, what would he be?

A monster, his brain supplies in the voice of his first handler, a liability.

Rome's jaw is tight with indecision. He doesn't want to disappoint her, but he's genuinely unsettled by what she seems to be suggesting, and it makes him a little fidgety, fingers twisting together with his arms wrapped around his knees.]

...I don't know if it has an end.

[His voice is soft.]

Wolves who lose control are put down. I've killed them. [There's a slight pause, and then-] -I've killed them with the understanding that it could just as easily be me.

[Maketh laughs at that, low and mean. She's possibly too drunk for this moment, possibly too much of an Imperial still to understand his perspective. But here a weapon stands, primed and ready, and capable of so much more. It's so easy to reach out and try to change him.]

You are afraid and it makes you small. If you do not know yourself, then your enemy will, soldier. Do you want to know how I'd break you, hmm? Do you want to know why it would work?

[His posture straightens a little- again, he's opened up a fraction, and again it's met with contempt. He's learning, but he's never been a fast learner, and the nuance of this sort of relationship is difficult for him to grasp.

But he nods once, the motion little more than a sharp motion of his chin.]

Tell me.

[It's the answer she wants, he thinks- but he can't deny that he's curious, all the same.]

[Maketh leans back, settling. She holds the bottle close but doesn't drink from it. Not yet. She's teaching - or trying - and that requires clarity. Even if she already is drunk.]

Make you lose control. Simple. Cook up some strong drugs, disguise the smell. Get them in your water. High dose. You heal but I bet you can't shake off everything.

[She nods, matter of fact. It's not something she's made up on the spot, but rather a plan she concocted a while back just in case. Every good officer needs contingencies.]

Put people in front of you. See what happens. Record it. Make you watch when you come down. Easy.

[She grins suddenly.]

Very easy.

I see.

[His expression is unchanged, carefully stoic. He doesn't look at her- he's not sure if he can right now. To an onlooker, it would seem almost casual, his usual prim politeness, but his heart is pounding in his ears so loudly that he wonders if Maketh could hear it.

He doesn't look at her. She's clearly thought about this- but who would care to deconstruct something like him? He's beneath notice, a creature that would be dispatched with a shot to the head for disobedience, not- as Maketh said- something to be broken.]

Thank you.

[He's not sure what else to say to that.]

[Thank you. Maketh snorts, baring her teeth out at the water. But why shouldn't he be thankful? She's revealed a weakness that others can exploit. A good soldier should always work to eliminate those.

Hmm. Now what are you going to do about it?

[The obvious answer would be don't accept drinks from you, but Rome is neither witty enough to come up with something like that, nor would he want to be rude. So instead he thinks, taking the situation objectively and reasoning out the difficult parts.]

There are only two things I can do, [he finally says carefully,] end my life to avoid the inherent threat of my nature, or reduce the value I place on civilian lives so such a thing would not be damaging to me.

Logical. But an officer must be more creative, Rome.

[She says it lightly, watching the alcohol shift and turn in her bottle.]

Your nature is a weapon. There's no use in having a weapon you're afraid of.

Consider a third option. Confront your nature. Know where it ends. Your limitations. Master it.

I know my nature.

[He counters, turning quickly to look toward her.]

We are one. It just- [there's a pause. It's difficult to reconcile this, now that he's facing it directly: the wolf is a monster. The wolf, if left unchecked, could destroy many lives- but it is him. He knows it and he knows, somewhere, that it isn't as horrendous as he's been told because it's him, and he's... not.

Rome bites his lip, turning back to the water, where he extends a hand, flexing his fingers, considering his own power and what it means.]

It's complicated. It's not just the savage parts of me- it's the calm too. I feel it all the time. It falls too easily into passion and anger, and then it spirals.

[Rome shrugs uselessly, letting his hand drop.]

I cut it off before that happens. If you're saying that I should let it- I would only feel comfortable doing so in a heavily controlled environment.

[Maketh leans back, watching him for a long moment. The calculation is there, behind the alcohol, and she's already thinking of plans. Ways to test the hypothesis and calculate the results for maximum performance.]

Obviously there would be testing, first. Practice. You are willing?

[He balks at that, his expression going pinched for a moment before he evens out, forces the attentive, loyal soldier back to the surface. They aren't friends- not that he's had many friendships to compare this to, but the somewhat personable nature of Hadriel has resulted in him confusing many of his relationships. While Maketh is more similar to his handlers, the lack of structure makes things less defined, which makes him more expressive.

He really has to get better at that.]

If it's asked of me.

[He says, simply, with little hesitation and nothing like the reluctance that he almost expressed a few moments ago.]

I'll obey any of your instructions, commander.

[Hmm. The idea doesn't seem to go down so well.]

I could order you to do almost anything and you would.

[It's just how things are. Maketh tips her head to the side.]

An officer needs ambition. Too much and he'll ruin himself. Too little and there's no use in him at all. Understand?

Yes.

[It's a firm response to the statement- he's loyal, and there's an almost genetic deep-seated need to prove that. It's in his blood to want to do well, follow commands, please others, and what's more, it's been in his training since he was old enough to walk.

The ambition part is odd though, and he watches her for a moment, considering.]

And if my ambition is to serve and uphold my superiors' law?

[Maketh grins. She likes that question.]

Then you should strive to do it better, soldier.

I always do.

[Despite the terseness of this conversation, Rome finds the corner of his mouth twitching up just slightly.

They understand one another. That's all that matters.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Event Log: Bad End

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