hadriel_logs | Event Log: Regret This

Entry tags:

Event Log: Regret This

Who: Everyone!
What: The Regret This event
Where: Throughout the city
When: June 25th-July 3rd
Warnings: Sorrow is resurrected, and everyone is immediately full of regrets

Hope has finally managed another god resurrection, and the people have spoken! On June 25th, he musters his powers and brings Sorrow back to Hadriel. An orchard appears across the river, in the until now ruined part of the city, and Sorrow's temple is also restored. Hooray! One more god to make things a little more livable in this place.

Of course, it's not that easy. It never is. Along with Sorrow himself comes a wave of regret and guilt that blankets the city. All those affected will be inclined to not only be sad, but to linger over past regrets and things they feel guilty about. They can distract themselves with everyday tasks or whatever else they please, but they'll find that their thoughts drift back to these regrets regardless of what they do.

And of course, the best way to purge a guilty conscience is confession, right? On top of these persistent sad thoughts, people will feel the urge to tell others about them, to air their past mistakes or misdeeds and possibly receive some kind of forgiveness. So what if your neighbor doesn't care that you cheated on your final exams all through school? You have to tell someone, and they're right there. If it doesn't make you feel better, that probably means you haven't confessed to enough people yet, or maybe you just haven't found the right person. Better try again!

On July 3rd, Sorrow has settled in and this urge to confess your sins will die down, along with the constant regret. Let's hope you didn't confess anything too personal. Remember, you're gonna have to see some of these people every day.

► This log covers June 25th-July 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!
► If you somehow manage to end up regretfully dead, please remember to hit up our death post!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nick nods, his eyes ahead of him.

"Even Tranquility, the last one, is going to come with a cost. They all do. We'll just have to make sure we can survive whatever they throw at us. Them, and people who are as trapped here as the rest of us."

He sighs. The fog, the monsters within, and the monsters within people who should be their allies -- it's all hitting Nick pretty hard, harder than most of what the city has put them through.

Edited 2016-06-26 00:35 (UTC)

True, there are a few others that haven't even been put to vote yet. She hadn't considered Tranquility. Though it has nothing to do with the gods, the name alone invites a knee-jerk response, considering what she's learned about this alternate universe and that other Rey.

She falls quiet again for a while, more wrapped up in her own head than conversation. It's the exact opposite of the inclination she's been badgered with. That need to tell him something, but there are just so many things that she can't decide what, so it just makes up for it in silence.

By the time she does speak up, they're pretty close to their house.

"People keep talking about how they're stuck here, and want to go home, and once they figure out this Door thing they'll be able to," she says, her voice low. "I'm not sure if that's even an option for me."

Worse yet, she doesn't know if she wants it to be an option. That would imply that she has an actual choice in the matter, and that she's made up her mind. What sane person would choose this?

"You wouldn't be the only one," Nick reassures her, figuring that by 'not even an option,' she means going back to whomever put that rebar through her. "Guess the gods figured they could liven this place up with folks who are dead back home. Give them one less reason to want to leave."

Though even some of the living are struggling with whether or not they would, if given the choice -- himself included. But who would want to stay? Who would choose this underground city run by a bunch of power-hungry gods over anything else? And even if the gods were taken out of the picture, who would remain?

Nick knows the answer to that well enough: the people who have nothing better to go back to. Even he struggles with the answer: Diamond City is home, but even it isn't a walk in the park most days. He can do good in the Commonwealth... but the folks in Hadriel need his help just as much.

And some people need him more than others. Hell, maybe he's the one who needs them.

He glances Rey's direction as they make it to the walkway, doing his best to stifle that feeling of regret that's building in him. Whether he stays or goes when this is all over, he'll be leaving people behind. He's seen the orchard: the new god is here, and already hard at work. This kind of guilt and isn't him, and he knows it, but given all they've been through, it's a hell of a lot harder to fight this time around.

"I'm not worried about being dead," she admits, her voice heavy when she speaks. She folds her arms over her chest, her muscles tightening. "I'm afraid of going back to find that I survived."

Having a rebar rammed through her chest happens to be the least of her concerns. She's seen what the psychopath who caused it can do, and that Rey would be better off dead if she ends up where she fears of going.

There is shame mixed with that fear. Shame that, for once in all of her damned lives, she is actually afraid of what is going to happen to her. She is scared for her own well-being, because she has died plenty of times before to know that that isn't the hard part.

Dying is easy. Living is what's difficult. Add doing such for your own sake to the table, and you've got the mess that is Rey's dilemma, who doesn't have even an inkling of how to do that for herself.

At least here, she has something. A purpose, a mission, and people to look out for. But who is going to look out for her back home? She doesn't expect anyone to come for her if everything goes to shit. Not even her own brother. He's got enough problems on his plate.

Rey tends to be cagey when it comes to talking about herself, and especially her fears; to hear she's actually afraid of something is a surprise. Nick can only surmise from that statement that his guess was right: she'd be going back to whomever put the rebar through her, and they wouldn't be finished with her.

And while he's curious, he's not about to ask the full details of what she's thinking will come next, should she return home. Maybe they want her dead; maybe they want to use her, turn her into a tool again. Maybe she has something they want, and they'd be taking her apart to get it. That wasn't unheard of even back home: the Brotherhood, while not common in the Commonwealth, had come through Diamond City a time or two, looking for synths, hoping to get a hold of a couple for their own research. An autopsy of one would give them a leg up on the Institute, but Nick wasn't about to volunteer himself. He was still using his body, thanks.

"Guess we'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it," he replies, climbing the steps to the front door.

The connection in his left leg gives out on the third step. He doesn't clear it, tripping on his collapsing leg the second he tries to put pressure on it. He hits the front door hard, uttering a curse to himself; his hands react automatically, one keeping him from slamming into it, the other using the knob to stabilize himself.

So much for handling it himself and not worrying Rey. It's just one more thing she doesn't need to deal with.

When such emotions can literally be used against you in this place, Rey especially isn't fond of opening up her fears and ripping them into the open for anyone to see. The things she had seen in that prison hardly compares to the battlefield, and that isn't a prospect she looks forward to experiencing for herself.

It's her heart. That's what they want, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. Rey's arms constrict around her for a moment, still feeling the phantom pain of the metal piercing her ribs, just barely missing that heart in her chest. Couldn't have it damaged, could they? Not if that's what they're really after...

All of that fear changes course the second they start ascending the steps.

"Nick!" Rey swoops down, unwinding her arms to reach out, grab his shoulder, and reel him back. "Shit, hang on."

It's almost merciful timing. Now she can direct her concerns towards someone else, rather than dwell on her fears about her fate back home. Though she'd rather it not be Nick, seeing him fall in such a way that made her pulse skip several beats before racing.

Taking his other arm and pulling it over her shoulder, she leans back to help carry Nick's weight on the side of his lame leg. If the reality of her sheer strength hadn't been evident before, it is now, with her solid stature comparable to a bull's when she picks her roommate off the ground.

First thing's first. She goes to open the door with her free hand. They can discuss why the hell he didn't tell her that something was wrong sooner once he's stable.

Though well aware of how inhumanly strong Rey is, Nick forgets sometimes that she has the ability to lift even his heavy, mechanical frame off the ground with ease. She looks sturdier than Ellie, sure, but it's not as though she's a super mutant by comparison. Despite that, his secretary had no hope of even dragging him more than an inch, whereas Rey makes it look like child's play.

"I'm fine, Rey," he insists as she helps him inside, taking most of his weight on herself. Despite his annoyance with his failing body, Nick keeps his tone even, doing his damnedest to not worry her. This is not what he was hoping to talk about today. "The wires get crossed sometimes. It'll right itself out in a minute."

It takes every inch of self-restraint not to go off on him right then and there. But she has to plan accordingly. One thing after another.

"Stop it," she snaps, once she gets him over to the couch.

Another bout of silence takes over after Rey has made sure that Nick is settled, and that his arm isn't about to pop off next. Who knows what else isn't functioning properly, and he's just decided not to tell her about it. They're not just roommates -- they're supposed to trust each other. That's what this was all about. Or, that's what Rey had assumed. Perhaps she was wrong in the matter. Perhaps she had jumped the gun.

Whatever the case may be, she swings around to close the door, slamming it shut without fully intending to. Sometimes, she just misjudges her own strength when she isn't thinking about it.

There's plenty exchanged between the two of them in the silence that follows her reprimand: Nick sighs, frustrated with the fact he didn't take care of this sooner, and now it's delaying the conversation he wanted to have even further. The door slams behind him -- she's mad, and he knows exactly why. He was the one who'd been all talk when it came to them trusting each other, and here he is with a bum leg he didn't bother telling her about. He'd kept her out on purpose, and while he'd been hoping she wouldn't notice, the way she snaps at him says plenty about that.

He'd had his reasons, but at that second, he knows no excuse is going to be good enough. Hell, even he had to admit they weren't very good reasons to begin with.

Nick tries stretching his leg out as he waits for her, knowing there's more coming. The limb is completely non-responsive this time around; it had done the same thing a day or so ago, but even then, he hadn't brought it up to Rey, who could have given him a hand with repairs. Why?

Well, he has reasons for that, too -- ones he's still hoping to address, despite the setback.

Edited 2016-06-26 03:56 (UTC)

Blood pumps through her veins, this time for a much different reason. The initial shock has turned into something else when she turns to face Nick now.

She isn't stupid, neither is she blind. While Rey hadn't been ignorant to the condition of Nick's leg, she was hoping that she wouldn't have to be the one to ask him about it. That he'd let her know if it was that bad and save her from being snoopy.

Many questions fill her head, most in which involve a lot of yelling and infinitely more cursing. But Rey paces herself, squaring her shoulders and taking a deep inhale and exhale through her nose in hopes that she can speak without raising her voice.

"When did you start having problems with your leg?" There. That's a good one to start out with.

His eyes lock on the limb in question. He's in the doghouse, and he looks the part, his face hidden by the brim of his hat as he dips his head.

"It's an old wound I've had since well before I got here," he admits quietly, "An old reminder from a case gone wrong. I get the wires checked out once a year or so, but they come loose again. General wear and tear on a mechanical body."

Knowing good and well that's not exactly what she meant, he continues. "It didn't start acting up here until after we moved into this house. Think all those stairs at the old place didn't do me any favors."

The more Nick explains, the less it does to offer him any favors. She's gritting her teeth, biting back the urge to yell at him for being so careless this whole time. He's supposed to be the responsible one here. The one with enough sense in his head not to jeopardize himself in such a way that it could affect others as well.

"Despite all of that, you decided to move into the room upstairs?" Her hand throws out, gesturing towards the stairway in question. That is neither here nor there, though, so she continues. "And you never thought to tell me about any of this? At all? Goddammit, Nick! What if that had happened when the fog rolled in, or all of the other times that those things are in the city? And for all of the patrolling and walking around that you do..."

She's trying. Really hard. But she's got a temper that's difficult to quell, and now all she's doing is adding salt to the flame.

Try as she might, she won't scream her lungs out. Damned if it isn't tempting. "Did it ever occur to you that you'd become a fucking liability like that? Not just to others, but to yourself? Shit!"

Nick can't help but look at her as she chews him out. Even after she'd opened up to him, Rey doesn't usually let her emotional highs and lows show, so for her to tear into him speaks volumes about just how much she's affected by this. After all, she could have been the one hurt by his being a liability, a weak link in the chain of the Guard.

And he doesn't take that thought well at all. Somewhere in him, he knows she's absolutely right, but he still cuts back. "People needed help, Rey. I thought I'd sit down and deal with it eventually. Then things went to hell and back, and you've always had enough on your plate without needing to worry about an old synth like me."

His head dips again, his nose wrinkling as he grimaces. "I knew it could be a problem when the fog rolled in, but there were folks in trouble out there, and there was no time to find the parts to fix it by then. I wasn't about to let people get killed while I sat around and did nothing."

She's affected, all right. More so than she actually wants to be, which is why this hurts. It hasn't sunk in yet, but it hurts. Maybe it's real and it's her own thoughts and feelings rather than the influence of some damned god's, but that doesn't make the facts any easier to contend with.

The fact being that Nick had kept something vital from her. That he'd kicked down her door in one way while slamming his shut in others.

Of course, why should she have expected any different? It isn't like Rey is the most reliable person around. Sometimes, she's just as bad, if not worse. Doesn't make Nick's negligence any more excusable.

"You can keep telling yourself that, but it doesn't justify that you put others at risk! If you had fallen over like that while you were trying to 'help' someone out there..." She doesn't even want to finish that thought, or entertain the notion of what could've happened. "The fucking gods here can barely understand how humans work. Do you really think Hope would have any idea how to put you back together if anything were to happen to you here?"

It's a thought that she's had quite often, and she wished she didn't. Hope doesn't understand technology, let alone synth anatomy. For all they know, he'd screw with Nick's functions or, worse yet, find that he's too much work and not bother to bring him back at all. There's no telling for certain, but it isn't a possibility she's willing to entertain. Not when it means putting Nick's life on the line.

Rey is telling him clearly enough that it's him she's worried about, but for all his detective know-how, Nick doesn't seem to hear it. He's listening, but he's not hearing that she was concerned about him: he's hearing that he could have -- did -- put others at risk. If they'd died, that'd have been on him.

But people died, regardless. There were no easy answers, sometimes.

"Does it matter if he can put me back together?" Nick fires back, too riled to stop himself. "At least if I go to pieces while a damn monster is coming after someone, they might stop and come back for me rather than go after them."

For all of his detective know-how, Rey can't believe what she's hearing, either. Perhaps it's her own anger blinding her to know any better, in that she's no different when thinking that way. Even if it did, it'd hardly make what Nick says any better. After all, he's good. He helps people. It's what he does. What does Rey do?

Well, she was never renown for being much of a savior. Her reputation preceding her made that old record difficult for some people to ignore back home.

Lacking in enough self-awareness to realize that she's actually shaking now, the pent up energy has to be dispelled somewhere. Rather than directing it at Nick himself, the one she's frustrated with, she swings her foot at a chair, sending it hurling into the wall. The force of impact sends one of its legs snapping off.

"IT MATTERS TO ME, GODDAMMIT." She heaves. Not even Rey is used to hearing her voice at such a volume, as she gnashes her teeth and bears with it. "It matters to me if you fall to pieces and there's no one to put you back together!"

To Rey, this should have been a given. So much so that it didn't need to be worth saying. How wrong she was, apparently.

Nick only has a second to process the fact that Rey sends a chair flying across the room; all his attention is back on her in an instant as she roars at him, screaming a truth that he'd refused to see. The fire behind his own expression dies, giving way to a genuine surprise... then guilt. He should have known.

In all honesty, he did know; he'd just assumed she would be fine with his choices, that he was doing the right thing by helping others. He'd always put clients first, always considered the safety of others paramount to his own.

Rey would have done the same, after all... or so he'd thought. He's not so sure anymore -- he's not even sure what he'd do if it was him in her shoes, if it was her who was falling apart in front of him on the doorstep of the house they shared, if she'd been the one to keep something so critical from him. He might have kicked down her door and refused to leave when she clearly needed help, but would he place her safety above others? Above those who couldn't protect themselves? If he had to choose between an innocent's life and hers, what would he do?

The silence that follows her outburst gives Nick plenty of time to find that answer, but he needs only a few seconds, at longest. He and Rey might not be people, might be more machine than human, but the sentiments they share, and the compassion they feel for one another, are completely, horrifyingly real.

"I... you're right," he concedes with a sigh, his metal hand flexing -- he lowers his eyse, still hidden under the brim of his hat, to it, watching how well his repaired pinky moves. He could stop there, but his chest feels heavy, leaden; he's pushed to say more by the weight of his own actions. "I got so wrapped up in trying to save you some grief that I didn't think of the damage I was doing. Of the grief I could've been causing you if something went wrong. Always figured if I went down, at least I'd be doing some good, and the world would be down another synth, but..."

He pauses, shaking his head. "Not if it means hurting you," he admits. "I can't do that."

There's an irrational, primal part of Rey that wants to stay angry with Nick. To not have to feel any of the guilt or shame or sadness that she had been ridden with before. But as her friend gives in, it's not like she can rationalize her anger anymore. She could continue to berate him, sure. Tell him what an idiot he's been, that it would've been his fault.

That'd be a lie, though. That's what it all boils down to. The truth is, she can't blame Nick for thinking the way he does because Rey has no right to tell him how to feel. She has no control over that. The only thing she can do is tell him how she feels, and even that she has little to no control over. She didn't choose to feel this way about him, or anyone for that matter. Although she had opened herself up again, allowing herself all of the opportunities to be hurt over and over, in the end, she had no choice.

Her anger, on the other hand, is a choice that she can easily make. One that she's decided to stand down. Her nerves are still shot, still shaken. Still wanting to thrash and find something to destroy. Just not Nick, and not in front of Nick.

Shoulders slackening, Rey feels her shivering rage slowly wind down as she brings herself to one conclusion.

If anything were to happen to Nick, it would hurt her. Like all good things, she knows that they end. Nothing lasts forever. The least she can do is make the most of what they have. That includes making sure Nick doesn't bite it anytime soon, so she can keep what time they have.

Rey was so prepared to continue yelling that she doesn't know what to say for several moments. All she can do is stare at him, realizing how much this synthetic person meant to her. The same synthetic that she had been more inclined to leave six feet under, had she'd known what he was at the time.

Head falling into her hands, she lets go a shuddering exhale, taking in everything Nick's said, and more.

"You don't have to worry about me, okay? Not like that." Her ire has died down in a string of broken words when she tries to speak; tell him what needs to be said. "If you really want to be helpful to others, you have to look after yourself, too. You're not going to be much good to anyone if you're going to let yourself just fall apart like that. Okay?"

"You're not wrong," Nick admits, his eyes still anywhere but on Rey. She has a point: he may often feel the world is probably better off with one less synth, with one less bit of Institute technology out there, but he can do a lot of good if he manages to stay working. It isn't that he's to meet his end, but he accepted long ago that the lives of others are worth far, far more than his own -- it's a life that isn't even his, after all, and some folks wouldn't even consider him alive in the first place.

That is, however, a conception about himself that is slowly, but surely changing the longer he's in Hadriel. And the more he thinks about that, the more unnerved he is, the more rattled he becomes by what the time here has done to him. It's not just the city, or the gods -- it's the people he's met. It's the community. It's her.

He lived for years in Diamond City, and while he had friends and acquaintances, never did he have someone so close to what he is that they could almost be considered family. He was the only synth accepted in town, and even then, he was on tenuous ground with some people, and even more so when working on cases elsewhere in the Commonwealth. He never had someone to commiserate with, someone who understood what it was like to have another person's memories clogging up their mind.

It feels good to have that connection with someone, and it's hard for Nick to admit that sometimes, even to himself. It marks him as complacent with his circumstances -- as accepting, even welcoming, of what he's been given since his arrival in the underground city. Rey is right, though: he might be on borrowed time, given the lack of compatible parts in Hadriel, but he can make the most of what time he does have.

And it's even better if he can eke out a few more months here and there, now that he has something of his own, something the old Nick didn't have: he has someone like him, someone worth surviving for. And in the event he shuts down tomorrow and never wakes up, he needs to tell her that. He can't keep her in the dark like that. Not anymore.

"Look, Rey..." He looks up at her, his brow furrowed, concern etched into his face, cutting into the long-worn creases in his synthetic skin. "I'm going to worry about you. You're the best damn friend I've got in this place. Hell, maybe the best thing I've got going at all. I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping this on me, but I wasn't. I got so fixated on trying to help people that I didn't even think about it might affect you if something happened to me."

Another sigh. He removes his faded fedora, the hat as worn as the rest of him, and tries get some of the dents out of it. "I should have though, and for that... I'm sorry. I was the one who was preaching about being let in, and here I am shutting the door on you and trying to pretend like I'm doing you a favor."

With every bit of fury Rey had built up, all she has now is defeat. She wasn't expecting that Nick would give in so soon, or without much of a fight. Here he is telling her that she's right...

It's a little hard to maintain her emotions just then. At least she knows she isn't supplying Rage with any favors, however.

Rather than continuing this as an argument, Rey just falls into the empty space on the couch beside Nick. She practically slips into place like a ragdoll for a moment, not knowing how else to bear herself.

"I'm not going to tell you not to worry about me at all. I can take care of myself, though. I've lived long enough to know how to do that," she confesses. Her hands drop to her knees where she sits. "But I also need you, and that includes keeping you in one piece. And you letting me do that for you."

She's made it no secret that she's capable of doing so, anyway.

Nick is grateful as she lands beside him on the couch, relieved some of her fury has subsided. Not only was he eager to make things right with his family and closest friend, but he's seen the sort of 'redecorating' Rey can do. They'll be needing a new chair for the table at some point.

Besides that, he's not the type to argue just for the sake of it, especially when the other party is absolutely right. He's far more interested in truth, in compromise. Those are two things he owes her at that moment.

He reaches for her hand to return the comfort she's offered him time and time again. It's a gesture of what they need: each other.

"I won't let you down again. Promise. You'll just have to forgive my head for not being screwed on right sometimes,"

Shut up, dad. Rey is the best home decorator.

(That poor chair will be remembered fondly.)

If it's one thing she doesn't anticipate, it's Nick taking her hand. While she has no reservations when it comes to reaching out, it isn't something that she expects to ever be returned. Her eyebrows knit, but there is a softness in her expression as she meets him with a strained smile.

"That'd make two of us, huh?" She sighs, as if breathing out the remnants of her anger with that exhale. A symptom of relief. "Thank you."

Even if she doesn't deserve it, the fact that he trusts her means a lot.

He doesn't feel he deserves her thanks after what he put her through, but Nick doesn't get much time for regret at that moment. The connection on his leg comes back online, sending a jolt through him as his receptors fire up. His hand tightens on hers for a second as his entire body tenses.

He stifles a grunt, moving his leg around to test it. "Damn, that smarts, but at least it's working again."

Eager to test it, he slides off the couch and to his feet. "Guess I oughtta—" No, not just him— "Er, we oughtta start looking for something to fix this."

Rey gives a start when his fingers tighten around hers, frowning when she looks at him. "Are you--?"

Oh, it's his leg. She relaxes when she finds that it's just that, and moves to stand up as well. Her arms fold again and she thinks.

"You said it was an issue with the wires, right? Where exactly is this wound? Perhaps I can take a look."

And hope that she has something to replace it with. Spare wires is one of the things she'd asked of Hope.

"The actual problem starts at the back of my knee. Had a client double-cross me on a case once, and he must've thought shooting me there would slow me down. Given the fact my leg still acts up to this day, he wasn't wrong."

He rolls up his pants leg to past his knee. At the back of it is a chunk of synthetic skin missing from his leg, along with some of the protective plating for his calf. Past that are several wires that run up and down his leg -- several of them have clearly had bits added here and there, fresh wire to keep him running.

"Pretty sure the wires run all the way up my thigh. I've had a couple of mechanics look at it, but there wasn't much they could do other than a patch job. The rest of the wire is old by now, and they'd probably have to open up the rest of my leg to take a look at it, find where it connects further up."

And given his tone as he says that, he was not keen on that idea at all.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject