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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

the vision:

[ The scene is Skyhold, if you catch sight of Cecily's dreaded future, but it isn't the beautiful, mountain base that it usually is. The sky is stormy, streaked with threatening purples and pinks and with the occasional rumble of thunder. There is no lightning, but the weather is the least of anyone's worries, considering the rest of the vision.

Skyhold is a graveyard, albeit without any markers or stones. The bodies of Inquisition soldiers, allies, and merchants lay strewn across the grass, though there is no blood. Other corpses are past Hadriel captives: Leliana, Cullen, Dorian, Sera, "Blackwall." There are more, people who haven't ever been to Hadriel, but who are - were - important to the Inquisition. Everyone is dead, some with eyes staring blankly upward... except for two figures.

Cecily is one, standing, but with difficulty. The anchor is out of control, sending green tendrils up from her palm through the rest of her body, pulsing emerald in her eyes, in her veins. Somehow, that isn't the most threatening piece of the scene; her attention is directed upward at a man, an elf on the battlements. He is calm, impassive. Cold and distant, while the Inquisitor herself is the opposite with grief and rage plain in her face.

Her voice, though, is absent. Though she seems to be shouting, yelling at the man around her own cries of pain from the anchor, she seems silenced. The elf, though, shakes his head slowly from where he stands, unaffected by any of it.

"It had to be done. I wish that it could have been otherwise."

He says a number of similar platitudes, but none of them seem to placate the Inquisitor, who seems unable to approach as the effects of the green mark on her hand root her to the spot, surrounded by the bodies of her friends and companions. ]

the visionary:

[ Cecily, as usual, is having none of what the gods have to offer them. The Inquisitor knows better than to try and smash all of the reflective surfaces in Hadriel... though, anyone who gets a good look at her hands will see that her 'good' one is bandaged. In the meantime, she leaves the home she shares with Cole and stalks through town, ending up beyond Confusion's temple and Spire Three to where she has decided to hack at a tree with a blade.

Everyone has their anger management strategies, right? ]

[Fuck. This. Place.

Lup is looking tense when she finally tears out of her apartment a day after the mirror appeared at her bedside. Her hair is messily falling out of it's long braid and leaving Taako's side stresses her out more than ever before, but she's just felt so trapped sitting inside. She needs to stretch her legs, to get rid of some of the energy building up inside of her before she just bursts.

Her worst future is, naturally, the actual future that she's been told awaits her. Disappearing completely from the world without a trace for over a decade, having all of her loved one's memories of her completely wiped. Whatever happened to her--even her own brother doesn't know, his memories of her having only just resurfaced--Lup's basically just a ghost. She's gone and forgotten, which means her reflection is just nonexistent.]

Hey! [she finally explodes, lashing out at the first person to pass by her who doesn't look her way. She needs to be seen.] I'm fucking here, asshole! Don't act like you can't see me!

Guardpost

[Her hand is bandaged carefully, each cut cleaned and taped for maximum efficiency. It doesn't help much. Nor did smashing the mirror, but that is what she did early this morning, smashed it to a pulp with her fist and bled for the priviliage of it.

The image persists, however. Maketh can see it in her coffee, that reflection of a woman that looks like her, moves like her, but is dressed in the uniform of a First Order officer. And in the background, Hux and Kylo Ren linger. Ready to wreck havoc.

On the surface, it looks harmless enough, unless you know.

Maketh grits her teeth and drinks her coffee. It's bitter.]

Did you need something?

[Her voice comes out sharp and bitter.]

River

[The mirror has long since been smashed, but it seems the gods have become more clever in their trickery and the images from the glass have followed Maketh. Everywhere she goes, she sees her reflection: standing tall, back perfectly straight, in a black uniform and command cap. And it's only an illusion, it shouldn't matter because it's not even of her time, and yet --

And yet.

Should you wander down by the river, you might spot Maketh sitting on the bank, methodically working her way through a bottle of whiskey and glaring out at the water.

No one ever said she was good at coping.]

Wildcard

[Hit me!]

[Given how crazy everyone's been acting lately, Ephemera expects to see ghosts in the glass of store windows, in the bathroom mirror - something. It's supposed to be hell everyone's seeing, so he steels himself to confront the past: CT dying alone in the desert, his squadmates falling to Freelancer bullets, the thing that happened and ripped human language away from the twins. All the shit that's come and gone and he's survived when everyone he cares for has died.

Except there's nothing. He doesn't find a mirror next to him when he wakes up, doesn't have to chase shadows out of the shop windows. The glass is just glass.

Weird.

He tenses when he passes Lup, but doesn't reach for his pistol.]

What the fuck.

[He's in armor and that lets him do a quick scan of her with his HUD: no obvious injuries.]

Are you high?

the mad queen

[ Dany hasn't been in Hadriel for very long, but the time that she's spent here has already provided a fair amount of power for Rage. Though she has decided to think of the 'gods' as masters, along the same lines as the cruel lords of Slaver's Bay, rather than deities, that doesn't stop their influence. The young queen has felt restless and agitated since she woke in the Colosseum despite the kindness and aid from the other captives.

The issue is that they're all still captives. Despite her firm vows to find a way to free herself, to free them all, she hasn't made a fraction of progress toward doing that, or even toward forming a feasible plan. Without allies, without dragons or ships or armies, she is the girl that she'd been years and years ago, sold against her will to the Dothraki in exchange for the promise of power.

With this new experience, though - a show of the true strength of the gods - her breath stops. The mirror at her bedside calls to her, compels her to pick it up and examine it, even if she weren't already curious about how it got there. Its surface isn't glassy, though, and instead displays a vision. She nearly drops it in surprise and alarm, but something tightens her grip on the handle, instead, and shows her the kind of future she's dreaded more and more with each new story about her long-dead father.

The scene is of Daenerys herself, silver hair longer and more wild than ever, seated on the Iron Throne. She is dressed in all black, but there are streaks of blood on her face and her hands, too, are coated in scarlet. Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal are in the chambers, able to fit within the walls of the keep because the walls are dilapidated, half-destroyed. Flames lick the corners of the mirror's view, and the wild-eyed Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, alone except for her 'children,' stands and cries out: "Burn them! Burn them all!"

When the trance is broken, Dany flings the mirror across her room where it breaks against the wall. She has to collect herself as fear grips her heart, and it's a while before she can bring herself to dress and leave, stepping hastily over the shards of the mirror as she goes. She's still lost deep in thought about this as she flees her current home and takes to the streets, eyes wide but unseeing, searching desperately for someone to blame for - whatever she's just had to watch.

Dany bumps into someone as she goes, whipping around to look them in the face as she's snapped back to the present. ]

I - apologize. [ She offers, still dazed, still mildly distraught. ]

[Given the furniture situation, Law doesn't even really flinch at a mirror existing where a mirror was not last night. It isn't until partway through the day that he even stops to have a look at this thing, perplexed when he doesn't see his own face but something else entirely.

The bodies of his crew, strewn about him. The bodies of the Straw Hats, Phoenix Marco, Inuarashi and Mamushi, everyone in their alliance. All severely damaged, but it's hard to tell if they're dead or still struggling to rise. Straw Hat himself trying to push himself up, too drained and injured to block another punch. And above it all, the great hulking shape of Kaidou of the Beasts, roaring in laughter at these rookies who dared to try to bring him down.

Law's reaction is to frown in uncertainty. Is this the actual future? But how does a mirror know things like that? But, like finely-honed Observation haki, Law knows that the future is not in stone, always changeable, malleable. Do one thing differently and it won't come to pass. So all he does with this vision is get mildly confused.]

A 23rd - Sept. 1

[Law goes about his business like nothing is wrong, annoyed (and okay maybe concerned a little) at the behavior of others. Something's really getting to them. But he's come to his own Bad End three times already in his life, and survived all of them, so this idea that Kaidou will defeat their alliance, while possible and absolutely something he worries about, can't actually hurt him. Law is not a dweller on things he can't change, he focuses on what he can.

Of course, any time he walks past a shop window, another person's mirror, or the reflective surface of the water, anyone else can see the bodies and cackling Kaidou. Feel free to ask him about it, or get angry with him for not being affected by this phantom.]

B Sept. 2-5

[All right now it's starting to piss him off. Law has been followed by this vision for almost two weeks at this point, and while he's still not afraid of it, or worried that it could be true, he's getting positively angry that it won't go away, to the point of starting to take it out on anything that still shows it.

Like the shop window he just walked past.]

Will you quit it already?! I've seen it! I know what it is! What do you want from me?!]

[his ability won't smash windows quite as satisfactorily as the pommel of his sword's saya, so he raises the sheath, ready to slam it into the window and make this obnoxious vision go away.]

Edited (wow sorry) 2017-08-23 19:58 (UTC)

[ Alice had woken, too, to a mirror. She woke to the image of Yuri, as Death Emperor, ripping apart their small group. He tore apart Zhuzhen, the old man's frail hands barely able to hold his staff out in time to stop the attack. The demon's claw went right through his chest and blood splattered Alice and Keith, the vampire and owner of the current castle. Her mouth opened in a scream and she ran to the old man's side but there was nothing to be done. The dark creature that had once been the man she loved threw her like a ragdoll and pulled Keith's arms from his body.

She wanted to look away but she couldn't. The creature dropped the vampire, the royal violet of his outfit turning dark. Soon, it was upon Alice. The young woman stood up, her head held up, tears in her eyes. She could see that she was trying to talk to Yuri, to the man on the inside of the demon, but it did nothing. He picked her up by the throat and with one swift movement, snapped it.

She returned the mirror to her endtable, her heart pounding a song of mourning. That's not how it was going to end for them, was it? She was going to save him.

She leaves her own home quickly and when Dany bumps into her, Alice finds an apology falls from her own lips just as quickly as the other woman's. Alice's blue eyes are glassy and one hand is gripped tightly around her father's cross. It takes only one look at Daenerys to know the beautiful woman saw something just as horrible. ]

I-It's ok. If you've just seen something as horrible as I have, then I can not blame you.

[Delmar had actually been excited to discover the mirror at first. It had seemed like such a pretty thing, so much so that he had instantly reached for it the moment he found it. However his delight at its delicate beauty is quickly killed by what greets him in the reflection.

It takes a second for him to realize what he is seeing. He recognizes his house with its familiar wood paneling and his favorite blanket strewn across the couch, but everything seems off. The shelves look to be caked in dust. The coffee table has been nocked askew with a mug left on its side in a thick puddle of liquid which must be now dried milky coffee. None of this make sense as Delmar always keeps a very clean house.

Then he realizes that there is something laying between the coffee table and his favorite armchair. A body, old, wrinkled, and clearly dead, and clearly dead for at least several days.

Delmar feels a rise of sickness in his throat at the realization that that body is his. It's wearing his clothes. Its holding his book of crossword puzzles. Somehow in this awful scene he sees he has died and no one has even noticed. No one has come to check where Delmar has gone. Perhaps no one has even noticed that he has gone missing.

Eyes beginning to well with tears he throws the mirror away from himself and it lands on the bed with a muffled 'thumph'. He then grabs his coat and not even bothering to brush his hair or grab his trilby, Delmar rushes out the door, cheeks wet. He wants to be as far away from that mean thing as he possibly can be. ]

I. Around Town - All Throughout the Event

[However it seems he can't escape it. Even though he's left that horrid mirror in his apartment, he still sees its vision in every window, every table surface, even in every spoon, and he can be spotted throwing a spoon. And as if on cue, every time he sees it he finds himself struggling to blink back tears. Thus he can be seen darting dramatically away from storefronts as if they just caught fire and trying to walk while staring intently at his feet, which now and again causes him to bump into things (or people).

Eventually he becomes so desperate that he tries to hide in the park, coat pulled up over his head as he sits on the grass with his face pressed against his bent knees.]

Edited 2017-08-23 22:35 (UTC)

[Look, the only reasonable thing anyone can do is try to not look at anything reflective and keep their head down, in Marian's opinion. Of course it's another parasite ploy. Of course it is. Has to be.

So her eyes dart only cautiously up from the street at Lup's yell, keeping her eyes well away from her own reflection in the nearby store window: a blackened, frozen over skeleton in a dark wasteland of broken buildings and fractured mountains, ice and snow.]

I can see you just fine. I didn't realize I was expected to exchange pleasantries with every random yahoo I ran into during one of the parasites' despicable emotional manipulations!

[ Gosh, was it that time already? When Malkus woke to see a pair eyes that are were not his staring at him through the glass lens of his mask, he had a hunch. A tiny inkling that today was going to be emotional. But this wasn't fair...

The doctor sat on the side of the road nearest wherever he'd been staying for the night. His mirror was still in his hand. The pitch black face of an abomination stared at him, with milky white eyes and jagged teeth. Teeth that seemed too similar to the doctor's own. He'd known they had grown sharper, but they seemed so very horrendous in the mouth of this chitinous nightmare. It was unmistakably him. He'd always worried that the malignancy wrapping his arms would spread.

Across from him, on one of the ornate glass walls of a shop, played a scene where a monster of Malkus' height and general shape ran through a cave lined with layer upon layer of white fibrous tissue. The thing was without clothes, but covered entirely in the same dark segmented carapace. Almost like a slender, emaciated beetle. The talons on his hands had grown long and menacing, looking like daggers now. There was a grisly scene, showing the broken doctor chasing a number of frightened people through the caverns as the pale tendrils spread further underground. He wasn't the only monster in the reflection, as a pack of similar creatures followed the trail of pestilent destruction. He never watched to see if they caught their prey, but a bloody scene unfolded for anyone willing to steal a glance at the man's future.

Malkus didn't take such a personal attack very well. He had every right to be outraged at this clear manipulation. But instead the doctor just sat outside, crying into his mask; sobs barely muffled by the hard cloth of his beak. He let himself fall completely into the sadness that he knew they wanted. Malkus wasn't that strong, sometimes. He set the mirror beside him, buried his head in his arms and knees, and wept. ]

[George has just seen herself staying eighteen years old forever, never reaching her quota of souls to be taken, watching her parents and eventually her little sister grow old and wither and die in front of her and she was helpless to comfort them or be there for them in their old age.

she just went on, ageless, all of the other Reapers she knew meeting their quotas and being surrounded by strangers so she didn't even have the small comfort of people she knew being there for her.

it never ended. murders. suicides. accidents. death. everyone but her getting getting their sparkly lights and moving on to the afterlife. everyone but George. there's no way out. there's no relief. all there is is death.

after seeing this in the mirror, George shrieked and left the house, trying to find someone, anyone who might serve as some comfort or at least a distraction. she's not exactly looking where she's going, either, when she runs into Dany]

--shit! No, it's my bad, I was. Distracted. You okay? [George asks because she definitely isn't and Dany doesn't look like she is, either]

I'm worried about you.

[It's an honest statement from a synth known for being more than his makeup, a human sentiment from someone distinctly not human. He'd been reminded just how non-human he was with his own mirror. He was a tool, something that could be turned on people with the flip of a switch for all he knew. What if half the Institute came through the Door one day? Or a whole host of their synths looking to raid Hadriel as if it were some settlement? Or worse, what if he lost himself somewhere in that tangled mess of memories in his head? Went all Broken Mask on the residents who had come to trust him? The gods might bring them back, but who knew if they could do the same for someone like him, someone wholly inorganic.

It was too close to him, given what he's been through in the last couple of months. He broke his mirror that morning, as well -- he couldn't stand seeing someone wearing his face committing those kinds of atrocities.

He puts his hands in his coat pockets, giving Maketh an even look that betrays the knotting in his gut.]

[She flinches, suddenly unable to meet Nick's eyes. He's a good man, honorable and kind, and Maketh knows very well that she is not. Sometimes she believes that it's enough simply to be effective, that if she protects the rest of Hadriel then that will do. But then something like this happens, a vision of things to come or what might be if she gives in, and Maketh wonders.

And she is so very tired of wondering.]

It's a trick.

[She twitches. Sets her mug down.]

They're playing tricks. It's not real.

Michael's Vision

[What Michael sees in the mirror is unfortunately not all that surprising to him, but still terrifying nonetheless. He sees himself, in a not-too-distant future, having been entirely taken over by the monster that lives in his head. In this scenario, he has lost (or rather, given up,) what little control he has over their collective situation, and kind of merged himself with the Visitor (on a more permanent basis than the times he allows this already). It definitely looks like they've been killing people, if the dismembered bodies in the vision are any indication, but instead of the beast doing all the work, Michael himself is also covered in blood. It looks like maybe he's been using his bare hands to tear people apart... and possibly also his teeth.

There's a hollow but distinctly hungry look in mirror-Michael's eyes, which also seem to be glowing a fainter version of the Visitor's bright blue. His posture suggests something a little more animal than human.]

1. Pity Party

[For Michael, this whole future-vision thing could not have come at a more timely... time. He's recently found out that there seems to be a serial killer in Hadriel, and the Visitor has begun bothering him to find either this or another suitable target. So to suddenly receive a glimpse at what he perceives is the inevitable- it feels like a warning.

For most of the event period, Michael is going to contain himself in his apartment in Spire 4, with as little contact as possible with the outside world. He won't be breaking the mirror, instead keeping it around as an intentionally-painful reminder. He will periodically cover up all the reflective surfaces in the apartment with clothing or bedsheets, but also periodically uncover them, too. He might be doing a little self-harm to try and relieve stress.

In short, he's not exactly doing wonders for his own mental health.

Others can drop by if they feel the need, and he can be reached via the network (though reluctantly). You might even be able to coax him outside- this is still Michael, it's not very hard- but he will be extremely protective of the mirror and secretive about the vision itself.]

2. Skulking Around

[Though he won't be practicing great self-care during the event period, Michael still needs to eat eventually. If you'd like, you can catch him slinking around town in search of food from the shops.

He'll mostly only venture out at night, and he'll spend a lot of time looking over his shoulder at reflective surfaces. He looks a little paranoid, and a lot unwell. He clearly hasn't been sleeping, and he's not wearing his glasses. All these factors combined mean he's very apt to run straight into someone. Oops! If/when this happens, he'll jump back like he's been struck and look very pointedly anywhere but the nearest shop window.

He'll probably try to leave without so much as a greeting, regardless of whether or not he knows who he just ran into.]

3. Etc., Etc.

[If you'd like some other sort of encounter, that's fine too! Maybe you'd rather run into him at the orchard, or something. Just remember he'll mostly be hiding, with his outdoors activity kept as short as possible.]

They always are.

[Nick's own tone is slightly resigned as he says that; the tricks the gods have been playing have been all too real lately.]

The hard part is not letting it get to you.

[And he says that in the knowing sort of way that says he's well aware of how Maketh might be feeling.]

[Cole is rather more subdued than usual and looking for some kind of comfort, although judging by all of the pain radiating off seemingly every denizen of the cave, he doesn't expect that he'll find much of it. He's already broken several mirrors and windows himself, but nothing seems to help. He just keeps seeing his worst nightmare.

It takes a few moments before he even approaches Cecily, and his voice is far quieter than normal when he does speak, from behind her.]

That's bad for both of you. [If Cassandra's armor can talk, so can Cecily's sword.]

I. House 1401;

The mirror is already on the floor when Rey wakes up. Mostly this is in part due to the fact that she herself is on the floor, sprawled over the hardwood and cocooned within a blanket. She's so used to this that she doesn't even ache; her muscles familiar with the seemingly uncomfortable and awkward position when she rouses from her sleep.

She doesn't balk at the mirror for the first several minutes. It's more or less a relief to find herself not staring at the ghost of her mother, or wrapped up in the illusion of another life. Her mind is intact, her body is unchanged, her senses functioning.

But something isn't normal. Hell, what mess in this place ever is?

Untangling herself from the sheets, she slides her back up against the wall before her attention descends to the glassy surface of the mirror. She blinks at it only for a moment, picking it up into a grip so tight her knuckles pale. Her jaw tightens, and she has only to recall a few weeks back.

That fucking vote. Who won, exactly? Whichever god came out top on their little game of pseudopolitics, it's likely them that will receive power from this object.

Remembering what happened the last time a gimmick much like this one appeared in her home, Rey scarcely hesitates to slam the mirror down over the floor. Glass shatters into hundreds of little fragments.

"No," she says flatly.

II. The City; (TW: Self Harm)

If only it was the same as with Hope's mirror. Rey would have known if it was, but even he doesn't seem to be so cruel as to force them to face their own reflections the way Rey did when she caught a glimpse of herself in a window.

Normally, she doesn't think twice about looking at herself. There isn't much to see, and to that she's grateful. She stops, however, while passing by an abandoned shop to notice her own face in the glass...

Once scarred, now her skin appears unscathed. Gone are the smooth and jagged edges of damaged tissue that go beyond even her own impeccable self-healing. She is clear now. Perfect skin. Lighter hair and eyes.

Worse, she's fucking smiling. Only her eyes are a void, absent of any emotion extending beyond cruelty.

It's not her. It's not her. Rey even checks by the river at some point to make sure -- and her features remain the same. Beautiful. Clean. Pure.

What an angel, with only cloth wings to fly.

...

Blood streams down her face in reality. The black combat knife is still in her hand, just as stained in red. The scars in her face are torn open, and when they dry up she makes sure that they bleed again. When she starts to feel them try and heal, she adds another, just to remind herself that the beautiful face in the reflective surfaces around the city are not real. It's them that's changed -- not her.

She can't change; she refuses to change. She won't become that Salamander in the mirror, or something worse. Something that wants to seize control of her; something that's always had the potential to be there, lingering, waiting. It lurks and it burns.

The shadows of the alleyway hug around her, as she clutches the knife close to her chest like a comfort. No matter how much, she has to bleed; the duty of it dulls the pain. Because she won't let herself go. She can't.

Edited 2017-08-24 02:40 (UTC)

[Kyna's not dealing with this well, either. For a while, she locks herself in her apartment, but then anxiety and a need to be around someone—anyone—else drives her outside. She doesn't leave the apartment building just yet, because she's afraid of running into too many reflective surfaces. She's basically got her eyes glued to the floor.

Eventually, she makes her way over to Michael's. She's not really sure why, other than the fact that he's close and he's one of the first people she met here. She doesn't think that counts for much, but maybe it counts for something. She even knocks.]

hey.
did u wake up w. a shitty mirror next to u?

[As far as the parasites' games go, this isn't the worst they've inflicted on the populace. But it doesn't make life easy either, and she skitters between shops, casting her gaze to the street instead of to the reflections flickering in the windows -- snow-dusted ruins that look like the buildings were snapped in half by some violent earth-shaking force, distant mountains sheared abruptly. The light is dim, from a fading brownish-red sun covered in black spots. And Marian herself... nothing but a blackened, almost charred-looking skeleton, equally covered in ice and snow.

It's not surprising to hear someone affected enough to be upset by whatever the mirror is showing them. Marian isn't sure what the overall theme is yet, but no doubt Fear and Sorrow both had their hands in whatever was going on now. She's about to pass by without a word and leave them to their private sorrows, but there's an odd curiosity, enough that she lifts her head far enough to see... ]

Malkus?

[Oh no. While 'endearing' isn't exactly the word she'd use for his usual somewhat bumbling ineptitude, Marian doesn't like seeing him like this. The parasites at work again.

Unfortunately consoling people isn't really something she's good at, despite sympathetic intentions.]

Just... try to ignore it.

dark reflections (ota for anyone to see out and about);

[ You're beautiful, Rose. comes an affection whisper through her mind.

That's what he'd said, all those years ago. That's what Kite had said. A 'beautiful', bloody mess reflects back at her in the mirror; a ravenous monster that shares her face. She looks more wolf than woman in the image, not only physically but carrying herself like the predator hunched over its prey.

The game under her stark white teeth changes. At first, she sees Faith. The woman's throat torn into and innards eaten away at with bite marks Rose is all too familiar of because she's inflicted enough of them to be. Then Ushahin, then Rey, then Newt, Hermann, then Jesse, then Hiruma, then Alphys, and even Sans turned to dust beneath her blood-drenched maw. Even Sorrow, the god partially responsible for this personal nightmare isn't exempt, despite rationally knowing she couldn't hurt him in this way.

They've all been devoured but her hunger is still insatiable and she's given up kidding herself that she'll ever sate it. ]

at home (closed to alphys and others living w/them);

[ The shattering of glass splits through the silence of the house in the early hours of the morning. Apparently, Rose didn't like what she saw. It starts first from her room before it journeys outward once she discovers it isn't just the handheld mirror reflecting this awful future back at her.

It quickly becomes a deafening cacophony of breakage throughout the entire abode. The bathroom mirror is splintered under a swift punch. Rose doesn't even flinch at the blood that seeps from her knuckles after being sliced on the edges. The sink is stained with her blood, but that's fine because it blocks out the tiny reflections upon its metal surface. Metal. The silverware. She's tearing open the drawers, finding anything that might reflect and finding someplace else to put it. She'd throw it out the window but she isn't sure if it's her reflection they'll see in it now or their own.

She isn't being very courteous, roomies, so do feel free to call her out on it. ]

out and about, no reflections (closed & ota)

(closed to brennan)
[ Someone would think after the first time, she'd learn not to punch glass. But soon as she sees the reflection, she strikes one again as a result of red hot anger flashing through her. She doesn't even seem to register the pain, honestly, and just kind of... allows herself to sadly bleed along Hadriel's streets. Part of her maybe thinks she deserves this pain, if the reflection of who she's going to become has any possibility of coming true. ]

(open to all)
[ After she's been patched up by a woman far kinder to her than she deserves, Rose can be found as usual in the orchard. She's humming a diddy to try and quiet her wild thoughts. It's not working, unfortunately, but she's nothing if not persistent. It isn't uncommon to find the blond among the trees but there's definitely something off about her. She's clearly rattled, even if she'll be the first to claim that she isn't.

Yet, with a little coaxing she just might talk about what's on her mind. She's backslid a little but recently remembered the merit of not taking it all on her shoulders. That she doesn't have to carry things like this alone. It's still brings on an unsettling sort of vulnerability that she doesn't exactly enjoy, but... She has to try, at least. ]

Edited 2017-08-24 03:33 (UTC)

[Michael doesn't wake up, exactly, to the sound of the knocking. He wasn't asleep, just... somewhere else. The bad part about not doing anything is that it makes it hard to drown out the voice in his head, so for the past however long, he's just been letting it chatter on at him. This is counter-productive, he realizes, but he also doesn't feel up to doing much about it. He tried that earlier, and it didn't help.

Speaking of which: someone is at the door, and whoever it is, he can't let them see him like this. Michael pulls himself off the bathroom floor where he's been curled up, and tosses his knife in the sink. He'll clean that... later...

For now, he rolls his sleeve down (that will cover everything up flawlessly he is sure) and shuts the bathroom door. He rubs at his face a second, tries and fails to collect his thoughts, and opens the front door just a crack.]

Uh. Hey. [Sup.]

Hi.

[This is awkward. What the hell was her plan here? While she tries to figure that out, she slides the pendant of her necklace back and forth along its chain, making what is probably a very annoying zipping sound.]

Did you... Are you seeing weird shit at all?

[It takes him a while to get back to this.]

so you got one too huh?

[He wants to be comforted by that but he isn't, really.]

[So he's not the only one, he guesses. Or maybe not. He shuffles a bit behind the door.]

What do you mean?

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Page 1 of 83

Event Log: Bad End

cecily trevelyan ; ota

lup | open

Maketh Tua | ota

no subject

daenerys targaryen | ota

Trafalgar Law - OPEN

no subject

Delmar - OTA

no subject

Malkus Iverwelling - OTA

Re: daenerys targaryen | ota

Guardpost!

no subject

Michael Munroe | Open | CWs for blood, murder, self-harm (sorry)

no subject

the second one

Rey. | OTA

no subject

text on like day 1 bc harlan agrees: leaving apartments is stupid

no subject

hanako 'rosalina' nurumi; oc; semi-closed w/ota prompts (cw: gore, self-harm, cannibalism)

more cws for self-harm rip

no subject

text back bc talking on phones is for losers

no subject