hadriel_logs | Event Log: The Stampede

Entry tags:

Event Log: The Stampede

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for Stampede event
Where: All over the city
When: December 26th-December 28th
Warnings: None

There's a rumbling sound in the air early in the afternoon on December 26th. Whether you're new in town or you've seen it all, something like this hasn't happened before. Is it an earthquake? It feels kind of like a small one, and that might be endurable if not for the sudden snarling and gnashing of teeth!

As it turns out, these yet-unnamed apex predators are overrunning the city, ignoring their previous apprehension to barrel right through anything- or anyone- that stands in their way. Seemingly spooked by something, they are aggressive and violent and won't hesitate to tear anyone they meet to pieces... after trampling them underfoot, of course. They're so large and muscular that they may even take a few portions of buildings with them- how would you like to see one of these monsters crashing through your living room?

At least it's only these weird mammoths, though... right?

► This log covers December 26th-December 28th.
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[Harlan teleports into Michael's kitchen and stumbles backward into the counter. For a brief moment, he thinks he'll be able to stay on his feet long enough to get to the table, but then his legs buckle and, nope, we're done with standing. He has enough strength to lower himself gently, at least. He slides down the counter until he's sitting on the floor and... bleeding. All over the place. Fuck, Michael's going to have to clean this up by himself. Maybe he shouldn't have come here.

But, no, this was the right move. He doesn't have enough magic left to use Telepathy now that he's used Teleport, and if he hadn't teleported, he'd be dead already. Michael would be left wondering. Fuck that.

He tries to lift his hoodie to get a better look at what that thing did to him, but the fabric must be embedded too deep; trying to move it hurts like hell. He can see and feel enough to know it's bad, though. He knew it the second its beak caught him. There's no coming back from this. He's already lost a dangerous amount of blood.

Michael should still be home, but given that he hasn't shown up yet, he must not have heard Harlan come in. He can manage a quick Message, he thinks, so he gives it a try:]

I'm in the kitchen. Come here, but don't freak out.

[Michael's home, but not for long. He's pretty sure he's about to brave this... Lion King stampede scene??? in order to get to the clinic to help out. People are going to get hurt from this. They get hurt without a bunch of carnivorous mammoths running through town, so they're definitely going to get hurt with.

He's just putting together all his relevant supplies into his briefcase that serves as his doctor bag when he gets the Message. And immediately snatches the briefcase and practically jogs out to the kitchen.

Don't freak out. Right. Failed step one.]

Holy shit. What happened?

[He essentially knee-slides to the floor in front of Harlan, flipping open the briefcase.]

[Failed step one indeed. Harlan groans a little when Michael charges over with his supplies. He expected this, but it's still annoying. It shouldn't be annoying. Of course Michael wants to try. Harlan would do the same thing.

He wants to answer Michael's question, but he needs to make the situation clear first. He grabs for Michael's arm to stop him from digging around in the briefcase.]

Stop. Stop it.

[Talking hurts more than anticipated. That thing probably crushed a few ribs while it was chewing on him. He'll have to ask Michael for the damage report once he comes back. And he will come back, he's pretty sure. Sorrow and Confusion made it to the city. Hope will too, eventually. It just might take a while, but he's not going to think about that right now.

He tugs at Michael until he has his full attention.]

I don't want you to fix this.

[Michael can't, but saying it that way leaves the issue open for debate. Michael will insist that there's something, and even if he can't, then someone at the clinic can. It's possible, but Harlan made his decision when he teleported here instead of to the clinic. He can't teleport again, and he doesn't think he'll last long enough to make it to the clinic. The clinic was a long shot, and they'll be busy with the stampede anyway. This is how it has to be.]

[He can't fix this. He knows he can't fix this. The second he lays eyes on how bad it is, he knows.

Harlan's lost a lot of blood. A lot. He's pale, and his breathing is too shallow, and if he checked, Michael is sure he'd feel his pulse fluttering like a hummingbird's wings. His body trying desperately to compensate for the sudden, drastic drop in blood pressure.

But it isn't just the blood, it's the location. It's the painful hitch in Harlan's voice when he speaks. It's broken ribs, it's a gut wound, it's torn abdominal walls and intestines. And with how much blood there is here, probably his liver, too.

There's nothing he can do and he knows it. But he still hates being told not to try.]

Don't-

[Don't what? Don't die? He can't tell him that. Neither of them can control it.]

What happened?

[He drops his efforts for now, turning Harlan's arm grab into a hand hold.]

[It's a relief that Michael just accepts it. Harlan didn't want to waste time arguing. He closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cupboard. Squeezes Michael's hand.

He's going to die here. Hope will probably bring him back, but that's not a certainty anymore. This might be it. He hopes like hell that it's not—a feeling that, if he weren't distracted with more pressing issues, he would recognize as a monumental step forward—but it might be. He gives himself a moment to let that sink in.

Everyone back home would be fine without him. His death would be a blow to Counterspell, sure, but they'd bounce back. The guild doesn't need him. Kyna and Tucker don't, either. They've come a long way in the year and some change they've been working together. They could run the guild without him, even if they might not think they can.

His friends in Hadriel would be fine, too. There's always been a chance that any of them could disappear at any moment, and this is basically just that. Delmar would be heartbroken and Hayden would have to find someone else to watch out for him, but they'd be okay in the end. So would JF. Michael would take care of her.

Probably. Michael is the only one Harlan's worried about. Michael does need him, at least for the moment. Until he gets the Visitor under control. Michael can do that on his own, but he doesn't think he can. That's the problem.]

You can control the Visitor.

[He's still not answering Michael's question, but this is more pressing. He's not sure how much time he has. He opens his eyes again. He wants Michael to know how much he means this.]

You can. Don't fucking... Don't fucking give up on yourself without me.

Don't.

[Once again, he doesn't even know what to say "don't" to. At least, for a moment.]

Don't give me that final advice shit. You're coming back. I'll make sure.

[Because the other possibility is just literally unthinkable. Michael knows he shouldn't have built himself up around someone else, shouldn't base his life on the continued presence of another person. People leave, people die, people fall out of love and lose interest. It's happened before, it's happened all his life.

But this is different. Harlan is different. It's not that he's built himself up around him, it's that he's rebuilt himself. He's a different person than he was a year ago, even if just a little.

And he gets what Harlan is saying. Don't go backwards. But Michael's not worried about going backwards, he's worried about being stuck in limbo forever. He's worried he'll never find anyone else that'll make him this happy. And more importantly, he doesn't even want to find anyone else.

He already found who he was looking for. He's not letting go that easy.]

[Harlan huffs out a laugh and then grimaces. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, which means the pain is starting to hit him in force. It's bearable, though. It's not as bad as when the Null got him.]

I know. I know. Come here.

[He pulls Michael's hand toward him, and then lets go to wrap an arm around his shoulders. It's the best he can do.]

But we don't know when Hope is coming back. I could be gone a while.

[That's the worst part of this, honestly. Dying is more of an inconvenience than anything when there's a free resurrection in his future, but he doesn't want Michael to be left alone for too long. He doesn't like not knowing.]

If that happens, there's nothing you can do about it. Be selfish.

[Be selfish? What does that even mean? It's probably supposed to mean taking care of himself, not losing it over Harlan. But in Michael's mind, it just means getting what he wants. And what he wants is kind of obvious.]

I'll try.

[He's not going to tell Harlan what he actually means, though. He doesn't need to die worried about him.

He leans into Harlan's shoulder, trying to avoid the damage, but god, that's a task. Most of his torso is shredded from the looks of it. He'll have to fix that. Fuck. He hates thinking of Harlan as a future corpse.]

Tell me what happened.

[He needs a distraction. Sort of.]

[Harlan is going to worry regardless. He's not satisfied with "I'll try" as an answer either, but he knows it's probably the best he's going to get. Michael's question is more important right now.]

Where's my phone?

[He glances around and doesn't see it. Fuck, he didn't drop it before he teleported, did he? He's pretty sure he didn't, but it's hard to concentrate.]

Here. Check my pocket.

[He shrugs the shoulder Michael is leaned against and paws at his jacket. He can't reach into it, but he thinks he feels it in there.]

I took a picture. There's monsters in the city. Not the... Fucking, it's different. Than the shit already here.

[Michael keeps asking what happened, but he'd kind of assumed it had something to do with those mammoth things running around through the city. That one gored him, or bit him. Biting is more in line with the wounds, he thinks.

But if it was the mammoths, Harlan would have said so.

Michael fishes into Harlan's jacket pocket and retrieves the phone. He opens the camera app and checks the pictures. Jesus Christ.]

What the hell is that?

[Harlan probably doesn't know, but it seems like the thing to ask.]

This is what attacked you?

[What killed you, actually. The thought brings the Visitor to the surface, growling and shrieking. It takes a lot- it takes everything not to just let it do what it wants. He's supposed to be better than that now. They're supposed to be better.]

[He grunts to suggest that, yeah, he doesn't know. It's annoying, getting killed by something mysterious. He hopes the city figures it out before he gets back so he can just skip to the dramatic reveal.]

There were three. They're like... Lando-sized. Fast. And the worst shade of pink.

[The more he thinks about them, the more pissed off he is that these stupid fucking things took him down. This is stupid.]

I didn't think they'd be...

[He's quiet for a moment. What was he saying? Shit. Dying is annoying. He closes his eyes and tries to focus. This is important.]

They're stronger than I thought. It bit me. They have... I don't know. It was sharp.

[Wait. His eyes open again. He learned more than this.]

I read its mind. It was, um. Weird.

[Michael's heart stops for a second when Harlan trails off into silence. He knows what's coming, but he's not ready, and he's about to check for a pulse when Harlan starts talking again.

He doesn't know how he's going to deal with this, when it does happen. And he doesn't have much time to figure it out.]

Weird how? What was it thinking?

[For now, try to get as much information as possible. Keep distracted. There's nothing else he can do.]

[That's the question of the hour. Harlan isn't sure what to make of what he got out of it. He's quiet again, collecting his thoughts into some sort of coherent explanation.]

I don't... It was just feelings. They were all over the place.

[He shrugs, but his body feels too heavy. His arm slides off of Michael's shoulder, so he knots his fingers in the hem of Michael's shirt instead.]

Didn't make sense. Sorta like... What the gods do. Events. Mm.

[His eyes close again. It feels better. Dying isn't so bad, really. He doesn't hurt all that much anymore, though that could be because he doesn't feel much. He can't quite tell if he can feel his legs or not. Whenever he tries to think about it, his focus drifts and he comes up empty. He's not sure what kind of feeling he's looking for, anyway. He can't remember how it's supposed to feel. All he remembers is being tired. And cold. He hates that his death experience is so cliche, but he is cold. Fuck this planet.]

I hope it's warmer when I get back.

[And then he remembers something that isn't being cold and tired, and he laughs.]

You don't have to... Blanket compromise.

[Concentrate on getting info. Right. So their thoughts were full of emotions that didn't make sense, like the gods' events. Like they were being influenced? He'd take more time to unpack that, but Harlan changes the subject.

Another bad sign. He can't think straight.]

Yeah, I hope so too.

[He doubts it, though. Assuming Harlan comes back soon. Which he has to.]

... I'd rather blanket compromise every night than not have you with me.

[Normally he'd cringe at himself for saying something like that, but he's serious. He doesn't care about the blankets, he's not going to feel better being able to sleep how he wants. Hell, he might not sleep at all.]

Mm. I know.

[He squeezes Michael's shirt before remembering that Michael probably can't feel that. He lets go and instead tries to shimmy his arm back to the small space between them to search for Michael's hand. He can't quite swing the maneuver though, and ends up thumbing at Michael's elbow instead. It's close enough. Michael will understand.]

Me too, but... But this is okay.

[It's not, but there's fuck all either of them can do about it now. And anyway, he mostly means it's not as bad as the first time. Dying the first time fucking sucked.

He is dying though, and even if it doesn't hurt all that much, it's not a good feeling. He can feel his body shutting down—it reminds him of the compartments in Titanic, actually, sectioning off damaged parts of the ship to try to conserve power. He opens his eyes again briefly but his vision has gone dark and swimmy and it gives him vertigo so he closes them again.]

I'm gonna pass out soon. I love you.

[The words come out a bit slurred, but they seem like good enough last words or whatever. They won't even count once Hope revives him, anyway. It's fine. It's enough.

Oh. Wait.]

You gotta... JF. Don't fucking, you... And Hayden. They're...

[Okay, never mind, this is frustrating. Endlessly frustrating because this is important but he can't figure out how to string the words together. Fuck, he should've thought of this before he was this far gone. He nudges Michael's head with his to emphasize the importance of this concept he can't quite piece together.]

Cats... She can't... She can't eat your fucking onion.

[Take care of yourself, Michael. You're inheriting children.]

[Michael feels the hand on his shirt, feels it drop to his elbow. Harlan can't even hold onto him, but Michael can, so he reaches over and grips Harlan's hand.]

I love you, too.

[Harlan closes his eyes and he feels his stomach drop again. Is this it, then? Does he just wait for it to happen? Wait to stop feeling the faint, flickery pulse in Harlan's fingers? God he hates this. He hates it so much that it feels like he's going to burst, but there's nothing he can do and that just makes him angrier. It's unbearable. He might just die right along with Harlan.

But then Harlan stirs a little, and what he says punches Michael right in the gut.

He can't just die here, too. He has to keep going because there are people who depend on him, there are lives that would end because of his. Fuck, that's not fair, he didn't ask for this. How can he be expected to take care of other people, of animals, when he can't even take care of himself? When he knows he won't even want to?

But he doesn't have a choice, does he? He can't let Hayden go unsupervised, he can't let John Frusciante just starve. He can't abandon them. So he can't abandon himself, either.]

I'll take care of them. I promise.

[Tears are coming more quickly now, hot and blurry in his eyes. He'd wipe them away, but he doesn't dare move his hands, now bringing the second one to join the first.]

[Harlan squeezes Michael's hand at the promise, but he doesn't try to talk again. He doubts anything coherent would come out, anyway. It's just a waiting game now.

Harlan doesn't have to wait long, though. He called it right about passing out soon. Fading is a slow process, not quite the flipping out the lights that he might have expected, but after a minute or two of listening to Michael breathing, he's gone.]

[Michael, on the other hand, has a lot longer to wait. He stays there, head leaned against Harlan's once he can't support it himself. His eyes are unfocused, staring into the middle distance, tears leaking out one at a time until they stop.

He's almost beyond sadness now.

He listens to Harlan's breathing, first too fast and then too slow, and then not audible at all. He feels it when it happens, that gradual slumping of the body next to him.

The body. Harlan's.

He stays where he is for a while, not sure how much time is passing until suddenly it feels like it's time. He gently moves Harlan onto the floor and reaches for the first aid kit.

Harlan- Harlan's body is still warm when Michael starts to pull aside his shirt and pull together his mangled flesh into some semblance of a torso. There are folds of intestine he has to put back inside, tears of skin he has to match together and stitch. The violence reminds him of the Visitor, in some far off place where he's still thinking and not just moving like a robot.

Eventually, he's done all he can. He folds a blanket over Harlan's middle and then struggles to lift him, only managing for a short while. In fits and starts, between almost dragging and carrying, he makes his way to Hope's temple.

He can't explain why. He just has to.]

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Event Log: The Stampede

Harlan Halliday | closed to Michael | cw gore, blood, death

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cw for... gore I guess

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