hadriel_logs | Event Log: Flu Season

Entry tags:

Event Log: Flu Season

Who: All characters
What: The event log for the Flu Season event
Where: All over the city
When: March 20th-March 30th
Warnings: Gross sneezing, sick people, and paranoia

It starts with a cough, a sneeze, a sore throat - something small and simple, easily ignored. But then your symptoms get worse. It's probably been awhile since you've been sick, that sort of thing doesn't usually happen here. You might be able to raid the shops for some tissues and tea before it gets too bad, and hopefully you've got a friend to help out until you get better. Surely it'll be over soon, right?

Until the fever sets in, and you start to understand why your friend is really there. They don't want to take care of you. They want to make sure this is the last anyone will ever see of you. They want to learn all your secrets. They want to steal your most precious possession. You know they're plotting against you, you know they're keeping something from you. What will you do to find out what it is?

Then, as the sickness fades, you realize it was all in your mind. Let's hope you didn't do or say anything too awful. But that friend of yours... they seem to have picked up your cough. Maybe you should help them out?

► This log covers March 20th-March 30th.
► 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 your paranoia ends in murder, please let us know here.

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[He's greatly regretting the entire plan to have this conversation right now, but then again maybe that means it was a good idea after all; if he's nervous, then he probably has reason to be concerned about his motives. Right? Right.

So although he really wants to make an excuse to get out of the conversation, he resists the urge and focuses on explaining.]

I wanted to go over more details on attempts to find it, and how to handle the issue of those here who might want to cause it harm.

[And of course get a better sense for how Michael feels about the whole subject, but he decides not to mention that.]

Edited 2018-03-29 03:17 (UTC)

[He's listening, but his mind isn't hearing it the right way. It's like there's something underneath Lance's words and he's sure it's there, but he can't pinpoint it. He's suspicious that Lance would choose now, of all times, to go over this. While everyone's sick? While someone's making them sick on purpose? It seems strange, doesn't it?

He should play along, he should wait until he's figured out what Lance is after. Trick him into thinking he believes the excuses. But then... what if it's too late? Whatever, he's not good at keeping his mouth shut anyway.]

Are you sure that's what you're here for?

[Lance is a surprisingly good actor when he plans to be, but despite that he's also a terrible liar when put on the spot. Being asked directly, when he hasn't prepared for it, makes it almost impossible for him to answer convincingly unless telling the truth.

So he always has to decide if he wants to deal with the consequences of the truth, or the consequences of being obviously lying. Sometimes one is much better than the other, and sometimes they're both probably about the same; this is one of the latter cases, and he thinks that 'same' is probably going to be bad.

So might as well go with the truth, and hope Michael understands the caution. Normally, Lance would expect he probably would even if he might not like it, but right now it's hard to believe that and he's subconsciously getting ready for a negative reaction.]

Yes, but also because I want to get a better sense of how you feel about the situation. And same for everyone else too, not just... You, specifically.

[Nailed it.]

[Under normal circumstances, Michael would find this to be completely reasonable. In fact, under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have questioned Lance's motives at all. Before he got sick, he wanted to help. Now he doesn't want anything but to know who's plotting against him. Which is... maybe everyone.

So his virus-addled brain decides to take everything the wrong way, to twist it to fit its skewed ideas. It's confirmation bias to the nth degree, and then some. Once his mind makes one bad connection, it just snowballs until it's unrecognizable.]

So you came here to secretly interrogate me or something, is that it? And why now? How did you even know I was leaving my apartment? Are you watching me?

[Likewise, Lance would normally have been handling this situation very differently; he would typically be focused on figuring out what the sudden shift in personality was caused by, but right now he's just too easily accepting that right, of course he had reason to be concerned about Michael's--and everyone else's--motives. The people in this place are so unpredictable and volatile, and even without the event's effects it's difficult for someone like Lance not to be able to consistently and accurately gauge how they'll react; it makes him nervous and defensive, and with the added paranoia that all just amplifies.

So at the accusations he lifts his chin, eyes narrowing a little, and his response is sharper than his tone usually is.]

We're in public; it's not very secret. And no, you were just the first person I saw, and I chose now because who knows what people are doing? What if someone who wants to kill it is looking for it right now, while everyone else is preoccupied?

[Maybe that's even what Michel's doing right now.]

[His eyes narrow. He doesn't like that tone, completely ignoring that he's using a similar tone himself.]

You think that's what I'm doing? Why would I-?

[He cuts himself off because of course. Of course Lance would think that. Wouldn't anybody? He suspected this from the beginning, that everyone knew about him, about what he's done, and they were going to hunt him down for it. In his warped version of reality, Lance is just confirming that.]

You know. I knew it. [He glances around like he's looking for an ambush.] There's no way you came alone.

[Lance is about to deny the first accusations, because that wasn't what he'd thought initially, but he stops because now he's not so sure. With a reaction like that, maybe that really is exactly what Michael is doing.

But the last comments seem a lot more important to respond to, his mental alarm bells going off, and he considers for a moment saying that yes, someone is with him. But it seems like another situation where the truth might be a better choice, although he delivers it with another dose of snappishness.]

Who exactly would I have brought with me? I don't need backup for talking.

[As long as it remains talking--which it hasn't always, whether here or at home--and that thought continues to add to the paranoia.]

You seem to be taking a lot of issue with the idea of a simple conversation.

[Michael doesn't see anybody, but that doesn't mean they aren't there, that they aren't coming.]

Talking? Is that all you were planning to do? I'm not stupid, I know better.

[And the way Lance keeps accusing him, acting like he's the one being unreasonable. He hates it. It makes him frustrated and scared at the same time.]

This isn't just a simple conversation, don't lie to me. You're here because you know.

I'm not sure what exactly you think I can do in this place. We're a little far from my jurisdiction.

[But he's way more interested in that last comment than anything else; the whole situation is obviously going downhill, but this seems like the most important part and if Michael is hiding something he's this paranoid about, then Lance needs to know about it.]

What is it that I know?

[Tell him more.]

That hasn't stopped some of you.

[He's using a collective you now, apparently. Mostly because he thinks Lance must have people behind him. There's no way Lance would think he could take Michael and the Visitor on his own, and if he's here, and he knows, then he had to have accounted for it.]

Trying to get me to confess first? Not gonna happen.

[He shakes his head for emphasis, and also because the voice inside it is growing more insistent. Let me take care of this. It doesn't use words, but he still knows what it means.]

True, but I thought it was obvious by now that isn't how I operate.

[Even though it would be a lot easier, and really pretty warranted in this place, with everyone acting like they do. Right?]

You're the one who keeps talking about whatever it is that you've done; it seems like it's something you want to tell me.

[There is definitely some sound logic in what Lance is saying, but Michael can't see it. His brain skips over it and goes straight to the last part.]

Why would I tell you? You already know. That's why you're here, you were waiting for me, you're going to try and lock me up or something, but I'm not going to let that happen.

[He is... going downhill rather quickly, sorry Lance. By now he's mostly in his own head, convincing himself of the reality of his bizarre delusions. And even in the best of times, he's pretty good at convincing himself of things.]

None of those statements are true.

[And he doesn't appreciate what is clearly--to him, anyway--an attempt at deflecting from the actual subject, but he's thoroughly convinced now that there's something more going on and Michael is definitely not trustworthy on the issue of Name and perhaps other things.

But really, Lance feels like he shouldn't be that surprised; everyone else is probably going to end up in the same category, because trusting people at home is often risky enough, let alone in Hadriel where everyone is a secret murderer or something.]

But I think I've heard enough anyway.

I don't believe you!

[Michael loses a little control over his voice, getting loud at the same time he gets hoarse. The overall effect is that he's spitting the words onto the ground.

And what does that "I've heard enough" even mean? That Lance is going to do whatever it is that he came here to do now? As he's thinking through it, Michael's thoughts get interrupted with a sudden shrill insistence. There's a sharp jab on the inside of his skull, and he brings a hand up to his head. It's the hand holding the knife, unfortunately, but at least it's not being used in a threatening way. Yet.

He screws his eyes shut for a second and digs the heel of his hand into his temple. Now he's just repeating himself.]

I don't believe you.

[Lance jumps just at the change in tone, but the sight of the knife is actually more worrying and he freezes in place briefly; the fact that it's just in Michael's hand is at least something, but that doesn't make Lance any less nervous. He's just not sure if he should be afraid for himself or for Michael, or both.

He wants to leave and knows he should--he remembers clearly how his last conversation with someone in Hadriel who was volatile and holding a knife went--but paranoia or not, he can't bring himself to do so just yet. He's too concerned that Michael might hurt himself, especially since the way he's acting now is so erratic.

So he takes a deep breath and tries to focus on diffusing the situation, like he should've before, but it's hard to do so with how he's feeling due to the event. Because of it, his voice is shaky and therefore probably not as calming as he wants it to be, and his words aren't quite as well-chosen as they normally are.]

I'm telling the truth. I'm not going to do anything to you; I just wanted to talk, and we have.

I want to believe you, but-

[And god, he actually does. Michael likes Lance, he helped him deal with some serious shit, but right now none of that matters. He can't even follow that thought thread to its end because of the insistent pain and noise. The constant refrain that he wants to hurt you. Everyone does.]

I can't. I don't trust you. I don't trust any of you. You got me sick so I'd be weak so you could get me easier.

[He is very much retreating into his own head. It's easier, it's safer.]

You all hate me, and you have a good reason, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to let you do what you want.

[He looks unsteady on his feet, and it's not just because of the sickness. Michael sinks down hard onto his knees, still holding his head. He doesn't want to deal with this anymore, he's too scared and it hurts. But he likes Lance. Which is why he gets a small gesture of mercy.]

I'll give you a head start.

[That's not ominous at all.]

[Yeah, none of that was ominous in the slightest, of course not. Lance backs up several steps on reflex, not needing anywhere near his level of talent in reading people to tell that he's in danger, but as much as he wants to take the head start he still can't. Even an artificial level of paranoia can't override the need to try to help, which is almost always the most important thing to him; what if something happens to Michael because he's afraid and leaves?

But he's also not stupid, and not interested in taking unnecessary risks, so he puts a little more distance between them as he backs up another few feet. But he tries again, voice soft, although his posture is tense and he's ready--even if he doesn't want to be--to draw his gun.]

It's okay. You don't have to believe me, because I'm just going to leave and prove it. Are you going to be alright if I do that?

[He's not just going to keel over the moment Lance leaves, is he?]

[If he were in his right mind, this would've worked. Hell, if he were in his wrong mind this would work. It would've worked if he were anything but at the absolute height of a god-induced fever of paranoia. Sorry Lance, he's a little too far gone now.]

You should've just taken the head start.

[The distance was a good idea. Lance is going to need it when Michael drops to the side like a limp doll and his shadow spreads out from under him like an ink stain. An ink stain which immediately erupts with a pair of long, skeletal hands, each finger tipped with an unsettlingly large claw. The hands become arms, dragging out a bear-skull head and wide, bony shoulders. As the creature emerges, the inky shadow clings to it and becomes a kind of ethereal flesh, unstable and ever-shifting.

The creature's blue-fire eyes are fixed firmly on Lance.]

[Lance is definitely regretting his decision not to take the offer as soon as he sees Michael slump over; he's known the Visitor was a possibility, of course, but just somehow thought any danger here was going to be from Michael himself. Despite having been in Hadriel nearly a year, he's still not totally used to this sort of thing.

And, despite everything he's experienced in that year--and before that at home--the way the Visitor emerges from that shadow is one of the most unsettling and horrifying things he's ever seen. So he's kind of frozen in place while it happens, too shocked to react until it's halfway out of the shadow, and then suddenly where there was nothing going through his mind there's everything. What is he going to do?

He remembers what Michael told him before, about the Visitor being kind of like a dog as far as communication goes, and so very briefly entertains the idea of trying to calm it down by not looking like a threat. But that's too much of a risk to take on something that probably won't work, and instead he draws his gun; there aren't many bullets left, but he just needs to slow the thing down long enough to figure out a way to get away from it. Easier said than done, but so is pretty much everything.

Lance doesn't wait for the Visitor to finish appearing before taking aim and firing twice; fortunately its head is a pretty big target, and he really hopes this thing isn't immune to bullets.]

[It isn't immune to bullets, luckily for Lance; one strikes it in the lower jaw, taking out a couple molars on the way through, and the other goes straight through its left eyesocket, knocking its head to the side and temporarily scattering the blue flicker that serves as an eye.

Unfortunately, though it's not immune to bullets, it doesn't seem particularly affected by them, either. Despite being shot twice, the Visitor continues to haul itself up until all four legs are on the ground, apparently unhampered by its partially broken jaw and the hole in its face. It shrieks, shaking itself out, and then begins to stalk forward.

Lance isn't running, so it isn't either. Yet.]

[Two hits would, normally, be pretty much all he needs, even against most of the monsters here. But, while it's some relief that the creature isn't obviously invulnerable, it's definitely not reassuring that the damage seems to have done pretty much nothing.

Great. He backs up a few more steps as the Visitor begins stalking forward, and shifts his aim; he only has two more bullets, so they need to count and he fires both at one of the Visitor's front legs, where the knee joint would be. Bullets don't seem to cause it any pain, but if they do actual physical damage then maybe he can at least make it end up down a leg; he's not so sure being down one leg would slow it that much, but it would still be better than four.]

Edited 2018-04-05 23:18 (UTC)

[The next two shots do land around the knee area of its front left leg; it's not even trying to dodge, and even if it was, bullets are maybe a bit faster than even ghost monsters. These particular bullets seem to have weakened the structure of the leg, so that each step causes it to make loud cracking sounds. Any significant pressure is likely to damage it.

Like, say, if it breaks into a run.

Which it does, or tries to, until its front leg crumbles after a few steps. It pitches forward, but the momentum it had built up allows it to make one long swipe in Lance's direction as it goes down.]

[That's more than he really expected, and on some level he feels a vague sense of triumph at doing that much damage to it, but it's short lived. Besides, even if it only lasts a few steps the sight of the Visitor suddenly running toward him is utterly terrifying, and that slows Lance's reaction time; he does twist partially out of the way, but not far enough to avoid catching a few claws.

The gouges aren't as deep as they could've been, but that isn't saying much; one cuts a wound across his lower left side, and the other two slice through his upper leg. Lance gasps in pain, staggering to the side a few steps and almost dropping his gun, and for a second or two all of his attention is on the sight of blood; he automatically puts his gun back in its holster as he presses his left hand against his side, the shock of the injury drawing all of his focus.

But then it suddenly snaps into place that the Visitor is still here, and Lance looks up immediately to try to figure out where it is and, if it's coming at him again, to do something to stop it.]

[The Visitor scrabbles at the dusty ground, dragging itself back into an upright position. It stands on three legs now, with the fourth half-gone; the severed pieces of bone seem to disintegrate into ash, which vanishes slowly.

It roars low, like a crocodile, clearly displeased. But also, undeterred. It starts to move forward again, limping heavily until it simply decides to use its stump leg and keep the other one stretched out in front. Good job, Lance, you've definitely slowed it.

But it sure isn't stopping. As it closes in, it pushes itself back up onto its hind legs and shrieks, launching forward clumsily, jaws wide.]

[As if the thing doesn't look scary enough, the noises it makes are even worse. Lance looks up from his injuries in time to see the Visitor stalking, but only for a pace or two before it launches toward him, and it's far too late to try to dodge.

So instead he casts the shield spell, focused less on making a large, general protective barrier and more on concentrating it right in front of the Visitor's rapidly approaching jaws. Hopefully that'll be enough to stop and maybe even stun it briefly, and Lance can figure out something to do that isn't just reacting and stalling.]

Event Log: Flu Season

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