ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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hadriel_logs2016-06-15 10:30 am
hadrielmods) wrote in hadriel_logs2016-06-15 10:30 am
Entry tags:
- !event,
- amos kamiya,
- bianca,
- bucky barnes,
- carlisle longinmouth,
- castiel,
- chris,
- damianos of akielos,
- dean winchester,
- dr. gottlieb,
- dr. newton geiszler,
- elmer c. albatross,
- emily,
- firo prochainezo,
- gansey,
- goku son,
- gren,
- henry percy,
- kanda yu,
- krieg,
- lucifer,
- maketh tua,
- mello,
- miriam day,
- muscovy,
- nick valentine,
- sam winchester,
- sans,
- shadow the hedgehog,
- tyki mikk,
- ushahin dreamspinner,
- victor talbot,
- wade wilson
Event Log: The Hills Are Silent
Who: Everyone!
What: The Silent Hill event
Where: Throughout the city
When: June 15th-20th
Warnings: Silent Hill comes to Hadriel, and with it, a few personalized monsters
What: The Silent Hill event
Where: Throughout the city
When: June 15th-20th
Warnings: Silent Hill comes to Hadriel, and with it, a few personalized monsters
On the morning of June 15th, a thick fog rolls into Hadriel. There's nothing quite terrifying about it yet, but it manages to drain the city of color, forcing a grey backdrop onto everything behind it. Feel free to go try to check it out if you want, just be careful, because it won't be too long until the sirens start blaring.
There's not exactly a reasonable explanation for where the sound is coming from: Hadriel doesn't have a speaker system, or any warning sirens in place for when something horrible happens. But you'd better find cover quickly, because shortly after the sirens start wailing, the city begins to change. Walls and furniture start to peel, revealing a bloody, hellish version of the city that you once knew. In addition, the monsters from the bestiary will roam the city, as well as a few other monsters that might hit a little closer to home.
Some characters may run into monsters which embody their own sins or insecurities. Some characters may be pursued by their friends' hellish mirrors. One thing is clear: you don't want any of these things catching you. Luckily, it isn't long before Hope makes a post, declaring the god temples as safe zones from all the creatures that are now loose upon the city.
The sirens will fade within a few hours, and the city will fall back to normal, the monsters will retreat back into the fog as if they were never there, and everything seems to be fine again, as if that terrifying experience was just some kind of twisted dream. You can tell yourself that, if you like... but that won't help much the next time the sirens start again.► This log covers June 15th-20th.
► 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!
► Any number of things could murder you here. If you wind up on the unfortunate end of Pyramid Head's chain, please remember to hit up our death post!
no subject
In her apartment, in the main bedroom, Sharon works. She feels out into the world, and every time she breathes, it breathes with her. Kate's enchantment had worked like a charm, the other woman's enchanted rope wrapped around her waist, and while everything appears to have gotten considerably worse (not of her own choice, more power must mean worse reality—whoops), she's gotten more control, more feel for this reality. The monsters seem to rage beneath her, feeding off her own fears and angers as they had once done in Silent Hill.
She fears for what that means, for what the means, especially, for those she feels have wronged her. She knows they haven't—the people in the temples are hiding for safety, hiding from her, and she shouldn't fault them for it but she does. She faults them for their cowardice, for their willingness to give in to the gods. She faults them, and the monsters know that.
The monsters fault them, too.
She concentrates in silence. She can feel anomalies in the reality, pockets of things she can't recognize or even comprehend. She wonders if those are the temples, or if what she's feeling are the gods. ]
no subject
Sharon.
[The gun is still in his hand but he doesn't aim it at her - not yet. He will, when - he's pretty sure it's a matter of when and not if - it becomes necessary, but not until then.]
no subject
Her wide, blue eyes land on his face first, and then upon the gun in his hand. Her heart starts, blood pounding as a sudden urge to run floods her. She didn't expect him to show, not after the first day, and now he's here.
He's here, and there's more familiar to him than just his voice. In her dreams, he'd appeared warmer—intimidating to the child she'd been, but cool, and nice. She'd wondered who she'd dreamed of; she wanted to know him, that young man with the burn scars on his face (something she knew the pain and appearance of too well, something she could relate to).
How the reality can be so startlingly different, and so similar to the dream of him hurts. The shock seems to drain from her as realization settles in, and then she laughs, soft and bitter and almost a sob, but not quite. ]
You've got to be fucking kidding me. [ A little breathless, a little emotional. She grits her teeth, and shakes her head. She's not ready, yet. ]
no subject
No, Sharon. I'm serious.
[Serious as a heart attack, some might say, but that phrase feels a little too on the nose for Mello, and has for years.]
I'm only going to ask you once. Stop this.
cw: suicidal thoughts
Or what? You'll shoot me? [ Sharon is not afraid of death; hell, some of the days she's spent in this shit hole have been spent wishing for it—it would be better than all the waiting, the constant fucking waiting, and pain. There were so many days she would have rather died, and you can only wish for something so long before someone comes to fulfill it.
It was only months ago people told her not to do anything rash after days of being buried alive, trapped in a space so small and tight that it was like being back in the hospital bed, unable to move or speak or call for help because every single attempt would cause excruciating pain. So, she didn't do anything rash, she just beat her hands bloody against Fear's temple walls. She'd raged, and screamed, and cried until there were scorch marks on the wall, and the only thing she could feel was the dull, numb ache of her damaged knuckles.
It hadn't helped anything back then, not really, but she'd felt as if she'd done something—showed him that she will cause as much damage to him, and his as she can until she was free. But, not even a week later, the temple stood untouched, as if everything she'd done had been for absolutely nothing.
She can't let that happen again. She can't let everything she's done, all the hurt she's caused, go to waste by just giving up.
She swallows stiffly, eyes burning with tears, tears that she won't let fall, and shakes her head. ] I can't. I'm not ready yet.
[ Those words won't stop him, Sharon knows that much. She can see that same grim determination in his eyes that she has in her own: do what needs to be done, and damn the consequences. Her hand slips into the pocket of her white, leather vest, touching at the only photograph she keeps on her person—if she's dying tonight, she's dying with her parents in her thoughts, of a happier childhood before all of this and all of the horror and pain. ]
Just get it over with. [ And the tears fall.
Maybe she should have done it herself a long, long time ago. ]
no subject
[Sometimes death is what's necessary. Mello has known this for some time now - before he ever took a life, before he left the House with a determination to reach his goals by any means necessary. He's known this since L told him the story of the LABB Murders and Beyond Birthday, a man who committed three murders and was prepared to sacrifice even himself in service of his objectives. His predecessor. Mello found strength in that story, not immediately when it was told to him but after, when he realized he could never truly be the next L, and it's both why and how he arrived at the conclusion that it was ultimately necessary to sacrifice his own life to keep Near in the game against Kira. Some things are more important than yourself.
Sometimes death is what's necessary, but it doesn't always have to be. Mello takes a slow step forward, then another, then another, finger lightly resting on the trigger of the pistol at his side.]
What you're doing here - it isn't hurting Fear. Can't you see that? The only people you're hurting are us, those of us who've been brought here against our wills just like you, and I can't -
[His jaw clamps shut. Mello isn't used to explaining himself or his actions; he's never needed to in the life he built for himself over the past five years. But maybe just this once, if it will make a difference, he can make an exception. It's a gamble, but the potential payoff is worth what he's prepared to offer up.]
One of the people Fear's brought here is important - not just to me, but to the world we come from. And I can't allow you to continuing endangering him like this.
[This is possibly the single most personal thing he's ever confessed - far more personal than even committing his true name to the written pages of the document he left behind for Near to find after his death, the name that he was certain would kill him in Kira's hands. It feels like being flayed alive. Mello sets his mouth in a thin line against the discomfort of it.]
Last chance, Sharon. Be reasonable.
no subject
Her laugh bubbles down to a sob, shoulders shaking as she grits her teeth so tightly her jaw aches. Mello wants to protect his world, protect a person from his world to protect his world. He's not driven by selfishness, or cruelty, or the absolute need for vengeance and that... that just somehow makes all of this worse.
What kind of person has she grown up to be?
This must be what it's like to have your heart broken. She grips the picture in her pocket so tightly it crumbles, imagining the smiling faces of her parents twisting in anger or disgust or disappointment. The things she's done, they had to be done. They had to be tried. ]
I'm sorry. [ She almost wants to scream at him just to do it already, end this miserable fucking existence before she turns into that thing that was left of Alessa. ] I won't.
[ Not that she knows it, but even death won't loosen her hold on this place. The moment her blood hits the hall, the sirens will start. ]
no subject
There are going to be consequences for his actions; he's not so naive to believe otherwise. There are those who will seek retribution for this, and Sharon herself will come back in time, probably even more angry than she is now. But Mello has done the math, weighed the options, and he believes this is the best choice to make.]
Then I'm sorry it has to be this way.
[No more words, then; he raises his left hand, quickly takes aim, and fires off three bullets, aiming for her chest. He's no marksman, so he doesn't try for a headshot, but he's close enough that he estimates at least one bullet will hit its intended target.]
no subject
The pain is sharp, and sudden, and then it's cold and numb. The bullets tear through the thin leather of her vest, and, man, the only thing she can think about in that moment is how this was a birthday present from her daddy, and now she's gone and ruined it.
She falls back, hits the bed, and then the floor. The crumbled photo falls out of reach, but she doesn't even notice. The fall doesn't hurt. Nothing really registers.
She tries to breathe, or laugh, but that, that's not like being punched. It's like trying to suck in molten rock, and she sputters. She can taste heat, and metal. Blood, probably.
And then everything inside of her just... stops. No more thoughts. No more feelings. As close to peace as she may ever get.
The world reacts, and the walls begin to flake away as the siren sounds. ]
no subject
There's a ringing in his ears, and at first he thinks it's just the echo of the shots he fired; it takes a moment longer for him to realize that the sound is the sirens that have been going off ever since Sharon started bringing this nightmare reality to Hadriel's already-nightmarish landscape.
This isn't right.
Mello watched Sharon fall to the floor, but he approaches her now - slowly, cautiously, finger still on the trigger of his pistol, ready to fire again if necessary. It isn't, though; she isn't moving, isn't breathing, he can see that much, now that he's close. Why are the sirens still going off? He crouches to the floor next to her body, intently observing for any unpleasant surprises - he's seen a horror movie at least once in his life, after all - but again, nothing unexpected happens. He peels off the glove of his right hand and touches the side of her neck, checking for a pulse - nothing.
She's dead, and it hasn't stopped the world from going to absolute shit. Which means he was wrong. Again.]
Damn it.
[Something catches his eye, though - the photograph that fell out of her hand. He picks up the crumpled paper and studies it closely for a moment - it's hard to make out the faces in this semi-destroyed state, but he does finally place them with a spark of recognition. The dream. It must have been hers. Who are these people, then? Her family? Friends? People who are important to her, that's for certain; you don't keep photographs of people who aren't significant in some way.
There's no time to ponder the meaning of the photograph any further, because he needs to get back to the temple, back to Near and more or less out of harm's way. Mello gently folds Sharon's hand around the photograph, even more gently brushes her eyelids closed with the tips of his fingers, then stands and tugs the glove back over his hand. He turns and makes his way out of the apartment, back down the stairs, placing a hurried call to Hope while on the move.]