hadriel_logs | Event Log: Soulmates

Entry tags:

Event Log: Soulmates

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for Soulmates event
Where: All over the city
When: February 14th-February 22nd
Warnings: None

Oh shit, what even happened last night? You're pretty sure you had a normal night, no crazy drunk antics (unless that is your normal night). But this morning you woke up with a brand new tattoo, and it's... a name?

Maybe it's a name you recognize, one of your good friends. Maybe it's a stranger. Maybe it's someone you can barely stand. No matter who it is, you kind of feel like you should look for them and figure out what's going on with this weird tattoo. And when you find them - well, they've got one too, except this one is your name. It would seem weird, except as soon as you see each other you kind of understand. Of course you'd have a tattoo with the name of the person you've found such an amazing connection with. You were meant to be together.

So enjoy your time with your newfound soulmate. Who knows, you might wake up tomorrow with a whole new name on your arm, a new connection, a new love. Make the most of it!

► This log covers February 14th-February 22nd
► 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 try to pull off a stupid stunt to impress your soulmate and fail so miserably you die, please let us know here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Hmm, bad. It looks like Pratt doesn't even know what's going on. What's he been doing this whole time? Was he on one of those expeditions?]

Uh, your arm. Does it, um, say anything? Like in writing.

[As if Pratt would assume he meant that his arm was talking.]

Is it supposed to?

[He yawns and pulls up his sleeve. Nothing there. Try the other one and ---huh.]

The fuck does that mean?

Okay, um, this is going to sound pretty nuts.

[Which is exactly the kind of thing you want to hear first thing in the morning.]

That's the name of a monster. And it, uh, it kind of lives... in my head? Or like, probably in the whole thing, but I hear it in my head specifically.

[Off to a great start.]

You're right. It does.

[The monster in Pratt's head isn't exactly amused either.]

Why is it named Visitor?

[Because that's the important thing here. He tugs his sleeve back down, debating about closing the door in Michael's face. The only thing keeping him standing there is that he's spoken to him before and this guy basically saved his life when he first showed up.]

[Hmm. He doesn't actually know who named it that. It's just kind of what it's called in the urban legends. But he does have some idea as to why.]

Because it... well, it visits. It shows up when you kill people. Or, like, that's the story version. The thing is that it just hates murderers? It, uh, wants to eat them.

[That last part is rushed and very quiet, as if he's hoping Pratt won't notice.]

But it likes you. I think it's an event. It, uh, really wanted me to come over here.

[For a... wait for it... visit.]

[He goes noticeably stiff at the eating murderers part.]

And it wants to eat me?

What the fuck man?

[And he's shutting the door now. He wants to slam it and go to the other side of the room but instead he's left standing there for a few seconds while that weird contented feeling that was faintly buzzing around his core turns into angry rumbling and discomfort and he yanks the door right back open, instantly feeling better.]

Okay, seriously now: explain what the hell is going on.

[Cool, great, door shut in his face. This isn't the worst that could happen, Michael guesses, but the Visitor shrieks in his head like it's just lost track of a prey item. He considers just creeping at the guy's windows to make it happy, but that turns out not to be necessary.]

It doesn't want to eat you. [He'll start with that.]

I think it's this god thing that's going on. They're like, assigning people to each other. But like, emotionally? I don't know, it's not happening to me, but it's happening to it. And you're the person it got.

[He stands there staring at Michael. He doesn't feel particularly drawn to him in any way, but there is a really ... odd... sensation fluttering around his chest. It's not attraction, and it's not happiness, he doesn't know what it is but he'd actually kind of like it to stop.]

Of course they would do that.

[ He stands back, motioning Michael into the house because this is a little awkward with the guy just on his porch.]

So what am I supposed to do about this? Or we I guess. What are we supposed to do?

[Michael follows him in, but he seems to sort of shrink as he enters, shoulders hunching and head lowering. He feels like an invader, even though he was invited.]

I, uh, I have an idea, but you might not like it.

[Once again, off to a great start.]

Like I said, it doesn't want to hurt you, it likes you right now. But I think it still wants to meet, um, face-to-face. Which I can make happen, but only if you're up for it.

[He wasn't exactly prepped for guests, not that the place is messy, it's just.. cluttered. He has a lot of MRE's and canned food that he's sorting through - the majority of it is in his loft neatly organized. But there's also a bunch on the table and floor nearby that he hasn't gotten around to.

The coffee mug that had tried so hard to eat him is now sitting on his counter on a small piece of fabric. Like he made it a little bed.]

I thought it lived in your head? It .. comes out?

[The mug thing is cute, the clutter less so, but Michael doesn't really mind. The guy's just stocking up, right? The gods disappear sometimes apparently, so it's smart.]

Yeah, it's not just like, an imaginary head-voice or whatever. It's, uh, it's very real. And sometimes present. But like, I have to let it out. It can't just do that.

[Not yet, anyway.]

Do you... want me to tell you what it's like? Make an informed decision?

Sure. This can't get any weirder than it already is.

[He gestures to the couch, sitting on one of the barstools at the counter.]

This is a thing that's separate from you? Or is this a Jekyll/Hyde scenario?

[And Michael takes the couch, albeit hesitantly. Always awkward, even when sitting.]

It's separate. I'm not, like, a werewolf. Not that it's a wolf.

[He gathers his thoughts for a moment. He's only see the Visitor with his own eyes once, and other than that, he just has the glimpses he gets through the monster's memories.]

It's, uh, huge. Like bear-sized? And kinda looks like a bear, but like, a skinny one. It's made out of black stuff, but it's got bones inside. Very big claws. Lots of teeth. I'm not really selling this, am I?

That's unfortunate, wolves are great.

[ Werewolves maybe not so much. ]

Wow. I can't wait. This sounds fantastic. So it's a skinny bear made of black stuff and full of bones and teeth and it doesn't want to eat me.

It doesn't, I don't-

[He stops himself from saying "I don't think". That's not getting him anywhere.]

If it wanted to eat you, I'd know. This is totally different. It's only been like this once before, and that was yesterday. And, uh, nobody got eaten, so.

What did it do yesterday?

[Does it just want to .. hang out with him? Chase him into a closet? He still doesn't feel threatened or like he's in danger, in fact he feels pretty content right now. Maybe it'll be okay?]

Let's just get this over with. What am I supposed to do when you're not you anymore?

Uh, not much.

[Which is true. It was just happy to be around its... companion? What does he even call this?]

You can just, uh, leave me here on the couch. I'll be okay, I'll just be sleeping.

That might be the weirdest part of this so far. So you're going to go to sleep and then there'll be a bone bear who wants to see me?

You know what, let's get this over with. It'll be less weird than talking about it somehow.

Right, okay.

[This is... weird. He's not letting the Visitor out after a long, drawn-out struggle with it, and he's not letting it out to defend him from an imminent threat. He's just sort of doing it casually, because that's what it wants.

It's also kind of awkward with Pratt watching, but Michael is pretty sure he'll forget all about him after the monster shows up. Which he should just get to already.

He settles back into the couch, but he's barely finished when the Visitor seizes its opportunity, and his consent, to start its manifestation. Black mist, thick and shivering, forms in the air around Michael. Out of the mist comes a bony hand, each long finger tipped in a troublingly large claw.

The hand is followed by another, and then a head, a skull twice the size of a human's, snout complete with a set of curved fangs. Planting its hands on the edge of the couch, the creature pulls the rest of itself into existence, the black smoke clinging to it like a dense cloud of flies. Blue fire lights the inside of its eye sockets, twitching in Pratt's direction.

The creature opens its mouth slightly, seems to sniff, loudly, at the air. Then it sits, still towering, and lifts its head to make a sound between a dog's whine and a static-filled radio station. This is followed by a single word, uttered with a single opening of the creature's mouth.]

H̳̪̬͖͔̣̥̪̄ͦë̜͎̘̫̬̳́́̑ͥ̓̌̚͟͟͞l̶̼̳͎̳̼̲̪ͨ͒̚l͈̞̮̰̫̰͙͈ͭͨͤ͌ͥ̍o̜͙̦͓͎̊̅ͥ͢.̘̪̺̹͕̪̖̖̓͛͞

[Okay so Michael being basically unconscious on his couch is a little uncomfortable. But he's honestly not paying any attention to that because then the Visitor is out and...

He should be freaked out by this. He even recognizes that this is pretty terrifying and for how jittery he is this should definitely have him running to defend himself. But he's not. Because somehow, for some reason, this feels right. He gives a small smile at the Visitor and approaches.]

Hey.

[Hands out because he definitely wants to touch it, wants to pet the smokey curls of blackness that writhe around his fingers. Well that is a very odd sensation. The bones are there and solid, but the rest of it is like trying to hold onto smoke.

The sound it makes is unsettling, and he should be frightened, but he's not. He stands there, trying to pet a gigantic bone monster in his house while Michael snoozes away behind them.]

[The monster lowers its head to be touched, even pushing the skull against Pratt's hands. Even pushing a little too hard, maybe, not quite knowing how to limit its own strength.

It seems happy, though, instead of aggressive. There's no screeching roar, no snapping jaws, just some guttural, rumbly sounds that might be the equivalent of a purr.

After a moment, it even flops onto the floor, the room shaking as if something much more substantial than smoke had collapsed onto it.]

[That little nudge is enough to send him stumbling back into a chair, perching on the armrest and giving the Visitor some quality skritches.]

Hey there. You're not so bad. He was acting like you're terrible, but you're not are you?

[He smiles as it flops over, kneeling down to get some petting in on the back of it's neck. Wolves are always itchy in those hard to reach places, he figures smoke and bone bears might be too.

Even without the event his inclination might have been to pet it just because it sort of reminds him of a wolf even if it is a giant smoke monster.]

You just live in his head huh? Don't get to come out much?

[The Visitor might not itch, but it sure enjoys the scratches. It rolls it shoulders and settles in, still making the low rumble that sounds something like a crocodile.

Unfortunately, it only knows one word, so it can't engage with Pratt's questions. Of course, they're probably rhetorical anyway.

Eventually, it rests its head on Pratt's lap, accompanied by one hand-like paw on his knee. The sharp claws might rip the fabric of Pratt's pants if he isn't careful. Assuming he cares. It's difficult to visually tell where the beast's eyes are looking without pupils or irises, or even actual eyes, but something gives the impression that it's staring directly up at Pratt.]

You kind of are like a wolf.

[Oh he's loving this, if this is an event it's the best one ever. Hope Michael is comfy back there because Pratt has completely forgotten he exists. All the pets and skritches for the good smoke bone monster.]

Look at these claws. You could do so much damage. I bet you're real impressive when you're fighting.

[He leans back against the side of the chair, smiling softly and stroking the skull head. His soft words stop just short of asking him Who's a good boy? you are, yes you are! but it's pretty close.]

[Michael is comfortable no matter where he collapses to sleep, so everything's fine on that front.

If only Pratt knew the damage those claws have done. Though it might not change anything.

What does change things slightly is that the monster eventually isn't satisfied with just this level of physical contact. They need to be as close as possible, and it intends to make that happen. It reaches one arm around to drag Pratt down into a rough and clumsy- for lack of a better word- bear hug. Unless he manages to evade it, Pratt will soon find himself squished up against some monster ribs.]

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