hadriel_logs | Event log: How Delightful

Entry tags:

Event log: How Delightful

Who: Anyone and everyone!
What: Delight's resurrection.
Where: Throughout the city, starting in the bar.
When: March 23rd-April 3rd
Warnings: Partying too hard, poor life choices, underage drinking, the worst hangovers of all time.

On the morning of March 23rd, bright and early, Delight is resurrected. Her temple is restored, and her bar appears in the city. What does that mean? Well, obviously it's time to celebrate. We hope everyone brought their party shoes! From March 23rd to March 27th, the party will be mostly contained in and around Delight's bar, with an invitation from the goddess herself. But it won't be long before she decides that's just not good enough - gotta bring the party to the people! From March 28th to April 3rd, the natural light is dimmed and replaced with flashing colored lights, fireworks, and even a few disco balls. Loud music blares through the city, making it hard to sleep, and a wide variety of trouble is available to be gotten into.

Wanna drink away the pain of being trapped in a hellcave? There's unlimited amounts of alcohol of all kinds, and Delight will be happy to supply anything that might be missing. More interested in karaoke-ing your heart out? Hit up one of the jukeboxes. Enjoy gleeful displays of your own mortality? Here's a skateboard and a ramp, have fun. There's just about anything you could desire, as long as what you desire is to party hard and make bad decisions. And hey, if you find yourself getting tired, grab one (or five) of Delight's special energy shots. They'll eliminate your need for sleep, food, water, cure an oncoming hangover and immediately relax any sore muscles you've got for 24 hours per shot! There's no down side! (Except for all the effects coming back to hit you at once when the shot wears off, but whatever.)

After about a week and a half of tequila shots, keg stands, roman candle battles, tagging the city with free spraypaint, inappropriate party games, and balloon hats made to look like rocket ships (wait... that's not a rocket ship), Delight realizes everyone's partied out and starts to wind things down. On April 3rd, she'll clean up the city, removing everything except for a few remaining fireworks and disco balls, stored in her temple. Her bar will still be around, if you can stand to even look at liquor after all the poor choices you made. Otherwise, lay in bed and try to recover from your hangover while the city goes back to normal.

► This log covers March 23rd-April 3rd.
► 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!
► Did you party too hard? Please report any character deaths right here!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She's right; he wasn't there, and he doesn't know what happened. But he also can't imagine Emily intentionally choosing to do something to hurt Matt--more seriously than insulting him, anyway--let alone cause his death. If it had been an accident, brought on by the collapse of the tower and the wendigo attack and who knows what else, then that isn't her fault.

But he knows she probably wouldn't see it that way. He doesn't, when it comes to the stranger and to Josh.

He doesn't want to think about that--about being responsible for the deaths of two people--and forces the thoughts out of his mind for the moment, focusing instead on carefully listening to Emily. Of course Matt had tried to save her. That's what you do when someone you love is--

Chris sits up, suddenly, because his thoughts keep drifting and his chest feels tight; it's easier to breathe sitting up, but he turns his gaze toward the water instead of toward Emily.]

Of course he tried to save you.

[He repeats his thoughts outloud, giving a weak shrug.]

That doesn't make it your fault. Y-You didn't cause the situation, and he just...

[He doesn't know Matt well, but he knows what it's like to love someone too much to care what happens to you as long as it means they're safe.]

[Love.

Fuck if that isn't the most dangerous thing in the world.

Once, Emily had been stupid enough to think she loved Mike. Worse, she'd thought he might've loved her back. And then, so easy it was almost obscene, he dumped her and went and asked out her best friend. That had sucked, but it had taught her not to be such an idiot. So when she'd started going out with Matt, she'd done all the things she should do, all the things a Good Girlfriend does, but she'd told herself every day that this was just some boy who thought she was disposable, and that was how she should think of him.

But who can honestly believe that Matt's kindness is insincere? Who can spend as much time as she did with him and not start to do away with all the thoughts of how he was just another boy and there were tons of others like him out there, and she could have whichever one she wanted whenever she wanted because Matt didn't matter and they'd stay friends no matter what because he's that kind of guy? Emily may pretend she's made of steel, that her heart is stone, that she's cold as ice, untouchable and perfect--

But she's none of those things, never has been and never will be, and it was okay to be none of those things with Matt because he's strong enough to hold her up and not stumble, because he's always cared even though she's a grade-A bitch and he deserves better than a girl who makes him question her faithfulness.

She doesn't know what to say to Chris. Objectively, he's right. She didn't cause the tower to fall. She didn't make him fall, for all that she begged and ordered him to help her.

Is she shaking? She's shaking. Shit. Well, it's cold, she'll blame the cold for how she's shivering, for how she sniffles.]

I-- I didn't-- stop Mike and Jess. I thought the prank was-- I was so stupid.

[And ultimately, that's what caused this entire shitshow, right? Her stupid, possessive attitude over the asshole who dumped her and picked up her best friend and almost fucking shot her.

Her voice is thin and breathy when she speaks again, and fuck it, fuck it if Chris sees her cry. Fuck it. Just... fuck everything. None of this shit matters. Not anymore, not when it won't change shit.]

I want Matt here with me.

[Even though he's not looking at her, he can see--or feel, or sense, or whatever--her shaking, and his first urge is to give her his coat. But he refrains, trying to let her retain whatever pride she might want to by pretending he doesn't notice, just as she'd done for him before.

He doesn't expect her to talk about the prank, even if her admission isn't shocking; it's a surprise to hear from her, but not a surprise that she feels that way. He knows they all regretted what happened, because no one ever meant for the twins to get hurt, let alone...]

Y-You couldn't have known, Em.

[It had been wrong to do to begin with, but it had been mean-spirited, not malicious. None of them could've expected for what happened to happen, even if they should've never done it in the first place, but only Sam had tried to stop it. The others had gone along with it, and Chris and Josh had been passed out drunk like stupid teenagers. Everyone but Sam shares the blame here, but not a single one of them could've expected the twins to die because of a childish prank.

He finally glances toward her, but then almost immediately away again when he realizes she's crying; he doesn't think he'll ever be able to see a girl cry without hearing the echoes of Ashley's sobs as the sawblades descended and he--

Chris closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again, staring down at the dark water of the lake.]

Everyone... Everyone's been here at least once but him. It's probably his turn.

[It's the only response he can offer to her words, and he knows it means nothing--who can predict how people come and go from this place?--but... Maybe. There's always a chance.]

[Right. That's what she keeps telling herself. That's been her goddamn fucking mantra this past year. There's no way she could've known that Hannah would run off into the fucking woods, that Beth would've chased after her, that the mountain is home to literal fucking cannibal monsters who just happened to be out hunting that night.

It's never helped, but that's all any of them has.

She brushes tears off her cheeks with her free hand and keeps looking at the water, at her boots, at the bottle of tequila that she's, what, half done with by now?

And Chris keeps talking, and she almost laughs in his face, a cruel and ugly laugh, all jagged edges that are sharp like wendigo fangs and leave scars nastier than the one on her shoulder. Yeah, sure, give her that to hope for. It's never gonna happen, because if there's one thing this place is getting right, it's how it's punishing her for all the shit she's done in the past year alone. It didn't even let Mike stay long enough for her to bitch him out for all that he did. No, it just ripped her open for a wendigo spirit to possess her like what happened to Hannah, and it let her get killed so she could understand what Beth felt, and it took back Sam because she doesn't deserve a friend like her, and it's not bringing her Matt because she doesn't deserve him.

Emily takes a long drink from the bottle, and when she stops and exhales, it's equal parts laugh and sob and sigh.]

You're the worst fucking shrink in the world.

[Her smile is bitter, more a grimace than anything remotely resembling a grin. She doesn't bother trying harder, lets more tears fall from her eyes, shakes her head.]

Not gonna happen. We're in hell and I'm never gonna see him again.

What, my advice laden with a whole nineteen years of wisdom isn't instantly life-changing?

[It's a weak joke as he lays back on the ground again, letting his bad leg stay dangling over the corner of the ledge but drawing the other up to set his foot on the ground. He... Really doesn't know how to help, even though he wants to, and though he doesn't think Emily's comment is meant in a bad way she isn't wrong. He's good at reading people, at navigating a conversation, at figuring out if someone means their words, but when it comes down to it...

He can't really help anyone, with things like this. He couldn't help Josh, doesn't know what to do for Emily or for Jess, can't do anything for what Ashley's going through. Of course he can't, because he can't work out his own problems, and isn't trying to help just kind of a selfish attempt to make himself feel better anyway?

Drinking is sounding more and more tempting, but fortunately just laying here is even more tempting than that.]

The mountain's hell, Em, not here. And you don't know that, okay? We just... We don't know that.

[Even if Matt's dead at home, he could show up here... And even if he doesn't, maybe he isn't dead after all. Jessica, somehow, is still alive; why not Matt?

He wishes he could bring himself to think the same about Josh, that maybe he has a chance too, but he can't.]

[She doesn't even bother coming up with a response to that. It deserves a sarcastic quip back, but she can't drum up the energy for one. It's easier to knock back some more tequila, to let the liquor's burn draw more tears out of her eyes as Chris keeps talking.

As far as she's concerned, everywhere is hell. Life isn't going to just let Emily get away with her shit anymore, and maybe that's what hell is. Being punished constantly, being faced with all she's done, bringing her ex best friend back in a state that makes it really fucking obvious how pointless fighting with her was and how impossible rebuilding that friendship is. And it sure as fuck isn't letting her patch things up with Matt.

Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that Hope will just bring her back, she would jump into the lake and let whatever's in there eat her. Can't hurt worse than a wendigo bite, right? And it'll probably be quicker. Shit here's so creepy that there's bound to be an electric eel on steroids ready to short out her heart the minute it touches her with its slimy skin.

What's the use, though. It wouldn't be permanent. Hell is inescapable. And if she can't get out of it, then she'll goddamn soldier through it. She'll keep her shit together even as it fucks her up on the inside.

As she takes another drink, she wonders if she should tell Chris the rest of this, the thing that's eating away at her insides like acid. He thought I was cheating on him with Mike. But that's-- too much. That's something she could maybe tell Mike if she ever got over him almost killing her. (She probably could, given enough time and opportunities to yell at him. She's not really mad at Ashley for that anymore.)

God, everything is such a fucking disaster. At least the booze is starting to drown it out. If she stares at the water below too long, she feels like the whole world is rippling along with it, and even in her state, she knows that could spell her (temporary) death. She shimmies back and stretches her legs out in front of her. It does nothing for her balance, but at least if she tips over, the worst possible outcome is falling on Chris.

Finally, because she feels like she should say something, she sniffles and mutters,] Whatever. [She has another shot's worth of tequila. It's the first one she regrets. Whatever.]

[He doesn't really expect much in response, sighing again quietly and staring up at the ceiling once more, trying to keep this mind as blank as possible. He doesn't want to think about just how screwed up this all is--how screwed up they all are--and none of them know any way to fix it. There's a party going on, thrown by a god called Delight, and they're over here talking about possibly dead friends and whether hell is here or back in their world.

Okay, 'screwed up' isn't really a strong enough phrase for it all.

His thoughts are drifting again, and it's just impossible to keep them under control; he might as well give up at this point, because he's pretty sure alcohol is the only solution and he's still determined not to go there. Instead something comes to mind that he should tell Emily, and things already suck so much right now what's adding one more layer to it?

So finally, after she's moved back a bit from the ledge, he speaks up again quietly.]

I told Josh. What happened to the twins, I mean.

[He'd had to. Josh deserved to know, and Chris is already hiding that Josh himself is probably dead or worse. At least this way, for the time he has here, he won't have to wonder about his sisters.]

[For all that she's over half into this bottle of tequila, Chris's confession sobers her up for a good few seconds. Her stomach ties itself into knots, and she finds herself pleading with it to hold onto the poison she's swallowed so far.

It passes, though. The sickness, at least. The brief spell of sobriety. Emily's world sways, and she sets the bottle down between them, her grip on it loosening enough that it feels like her fingers sigh with relief.]

What'd he say?

[She can think of tons of things he'd say, like fuck you all and it should've been you assholes, not them and god, oh god, oh god. Knowing Josh, he probably said something worse.]

About what you'd expect.

[They had to go through that because of some stupid fucking prank, and you wonder why I'd do what I did? I should've done worse.

It had hurt to hear, because how could it have been any worse? But he knows, at the same time, Josh probably didn't mean it. And he had a right to be angry, and hurt, and anything else; what happened to the twins was horrific, so much so that Chris can't bring himself to think about it beyond the basic facts.

But telling Emily exactly what Josh said wouldn't help either her or Josh, so he doesn't.]

But... At least he knows, now. So you don't have to like, worry about saying something.

[That actually is about what she'd expect. It's harsh, and it's true. It's better that Chris doesn't tell her.

It's not going to make being around Josh any easier, but now Emily knows that she won't be spilling any secrets to him.]

I have Hannah's locket.

[The words spill out of her with barely a thought. She blames the tequila for shutting off her filter and tearing down her walls.]

I found it in the mines. I don't know if I should give it to him.

[It'll probably make him hate her more. But... she kind of deserves that.]

[He's surprised, a little, at that response; he'd known Emily found a lot of clues to what happened while in the mines--and that's how Mike and Sam had been able to put the rest of the pieces together--but not that she'd kept any of them.]

I think... I think he'd like to have it.

[It seems like something that Josh would want to keep. He remembers when Hannah got that locket, and how proud she was to put the picture of herself and Beth in it. The locket itself would be meaningful to Josh, and if it still has the photo in it, even more so.]

If you don't want to like... Give it to him yourself, though, I can do it.

[He knows talking to Josh can be a little... Awkward, is probably the nicest word for it, and Chris doesn't want her to do so if she isn't up to it. He knows Ashley prefers to avoid Josh as much as possible, but he's not as sure about Emily.]

No. I'll do it.

[She shakes her head -- a terrible idea, because it makes the ground dip and shift beneath her. Emily steadies herself with her free hand.]

I, um. I'm the one who found it. I can tell him about that if he asks.

[And she can apologize, for all that'll be worth.]

Okay.

[It's up to her, so he won't argue; maybe giving Josh the locket will help her as much as it'll help Josh. He hopes so, and that it really does help at all.

He goes quiet, letting his knee rock from side to side idly, not sure if he should say anything else. What more is there to say, at this point? He should probably get up, go do something useful like look for supplies while everyone else is out partying, but he doesn't really feel like doing anything but laying here.]

[That's the hope, isn't it? That in spite of all that's happened, they can all start to heal. Or at least start to not hate each other. Forgiveness is too much to hope for, a dream almost as impossible as the one in her mirror.

Sighing shakily, Emily looks over at Chris.]

You should finish this so that I don't. The tequila. Before I start to tell you shit that's embarrassing or something.

What, so I can tell you embarrassing stuff instead?

[It's said with a faint hint of a grin as he turns his head to look at her. But then he waves a hand a little instead of shaking his head, because that's slightly challenging when laying on the ground.]

If you don't want to finish it, pour it out. Get the fish drunk.

[He approves of Emily not drinking any more of the stuff, but he's not going to either.]

Please, like your nerdy stories are actually worse than what I could tell you.

[But she doesn't insist, just shifts forward a little bit and tips the bottle over so the tequila spills into the lake.]

Sam would have a cow if she saw this.

[Which is the first thought since Chris got here that makes her actually laugh a little. Very little. It's something, though.]

Hey, don't discount my stories.

[But it's true that his general life stories aren't more embarrassing than looking like a dork in front of girls or wearing a sweater inside out. Those weren't even what he was thinking about, though, but--like always now, it seems--rather things that happened on the mountain. It often feels so much like the life he'd had before is so distant, that it happened to someone else, and what is actually his own history starts when he followed Ashley into the kitchen in the lodge.

He sits up again, this time more to make sure Emily doesn't fall in the lake or something while she's pouring out the bottle, and oh my god she's so right.]

She'd freak. I can hear it now, like "It's a delicate ecosystem guys you can't just pour tequila in the lake the fish didn't ask for this!"

[Sam is amazing, and badass, and one of his closest friends, but she does get carried away sometimes on the whole animal love thing.]

[She's not just discounting his stories -- she's putting them on clearance. And her stories aren't even as wild as Jess's.

But she's not going to think about Jessica right now. She's had enough guilt and rage and all the rest for one night.

Chris totally nails it, though, and Emily giggles, very drunkenly, but still sincere. He's right to fear that she might fall, because the world is moving beneath her. Shaking the last drops of tequila out of the bottle doesn't help matters, but if she sways at all towards certain death in the dark water, she doesn't actually fall.

Sam. The only one of them who can actually claim to be a decent human being. Sure as hell the only person who doesn't belong here.]

I really miss eating meat, how the fuck does she do, like no animal poducts.

[This vegetarian thing Emily is doing will not last very long.]

[The giggling is a great success, as far as Chris is concerned, and he smiles a little at it. At least she doesn't seem quite as sad, and she's not drinking any more tequila, so things are--hopefully--a little better now than when he first ran into her.]

Oh man, I know. This impromptu vegetarian lifestyle is killing me.

[He's about ready to risk accidental cannibalism at this point because he's so not cut out for this; he'd fight a monster if it meant a cheeseburger. Oh god, he wants a cheeseburger so bad.]

I wonder if Delight would like, be willing to take requests. She seems pretty agreeable and we could definitely promise to be happy in return for some good food.

[It'll do for now. At least she's not pining anymore. What's the use in pining if it won't get her what she wants? The best she can hope for right now is to have a vivid dream of Matt. Hell, that might be worse.

But Emily isn't thinking about that. She's got an empty bottle in her hand that she kind of wants to throw against the ground, just to hear the pretty sound of shattering glass. Shattering like their lives did on the mountain, though whether they fell apart last year or this year is anyone's guess.]

Do it, ask her. Ask her for like, filet mignon. Maybe she'll get us good coffee. Shit. Shit, that's such a good idea. Holy shit, Chris, I'm a genius.

[Immediately, she wonders if she could get Delight to bring her Matt, but... somehow, Emily is certain Delight will tell her that's not how it works. She didn't even know the Door existed until she got revived, after all.

Oh well. They'd better get Love next time. Love would totally bring her Matt. Right?]

And good tea. [Yes yes think about expensive food instead, Em. Not your boyfriend. Not love.] And like. Good clothes oh my god, Chris, oh my god. Holy shit. Maybe you're right. Maybe this isn't hell after all.

[The excited rambling earns a small laugh, her enthusiasm a little encouraging. He doesn't quite think it'll be that easy, but he does think it might be possible; more possible than making deals with Hope, anyway, and far less terrifying than trying to negotiate with Rage or Fear.]

We'll probably have to wait a bit until like... She's done with this whole party thing, but yeah. She'd probably be willing to get us good coffee at least, I mean, wasn't she taking alcohol requests? That's a whole lot more complicated than coffee.

[He's not sure asking for clothes is all that high a priority, but he's so not going to argue that point with Emily.]

[Drunken excitement is so much better than drunken pining. Good job, Chris. You're a real pal. Given her absolute failure to inspire hope in anyone since getting Hope to agree to that trade, she's of the same mind as Chris on the deal-making front.]

Right? It's just, like, ground beans. [And Emily knows all the facts about really good coffee.] I can't fucking wait for this party to be over. It's not even that good, ugh.

[Why lie, she'll probably head back to the bar one of these days to see if there's another bottle of Sin Rival there for her.]

You ask her, and I'll give her the details, okay? 'Cause you'll fuck it up, and we cannot afford to fuck this up. [Coffee is really important, okay.]

Yeah, I'm not sure how anyone can like, actually enjoy this sort of party for more than one day.

[It's a mystery to him. but whatever. If people are having fun then they're having fun, and that's a good thing here.

He rolls his eyes at her last comment, not actually offended, but--]

Hey, my track record for not fucking up deals with the gods is better than yours. But yeah, I'll ask her, just give me like... Whatever details you want her to have.

[Sure, his 'successful' deal with one of the gods had been super morbid, but still. It's the principle of it.]

[On the tip of her tongue is a quip about how Chris might've been able to with Josh around, but a) that's not exactly true, since they both have their limits, and b) that's pretty tactless given their drunken blackout last year. So she keeps it back and just shrugs.]

Soon as everyone passes out, we'll be good.

[Though, damn, shouldn't people be passed out already?

Also wow holy shit??]

Excuse you? I can make deals with gods just fine. It's the follow through that I'm facing a little challenge on, but that's not my fault. THis place is shit.

[Seriously, Chris, what the fuck.]

I'll write them down for you big enough that you can read them without holding the paper too close up to your face.

[It's definitely for the best that she refrains, because that would've killed his mood pretty quickly.]

Hopefully that's pretty soon. But I guess people are just like, overdue for having fun or something.

[He grins a little at Emily's indignant response, and the expression may actually be pretty close to being a smirk. He shrugs, with over the top casualness, tone light to go with it.]

That's okay, Em, we all have like... Our weaknesses or whatever. Mine happens to be shitty eyesight, so yeah, thanks.

Event log: How Delightful

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