hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dead Men Walking

Entry tags:

Event Log: Dead Men Walking

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Dead Men Walking event!
Where: All around the city
When: September 14th-September 20th
Warnings: Zombies. Walkers. The Infected. Zeds. The undead. Risen.

Everything seems more or less normal in Hadriel on the 14th - at least at first. But wait, who's that over there? Why are they walking so weird? Are they feeling okay? Wow, did they just try to bite you? Oh shit, you might've seen a movie like this before. That was definitely a zombie.

But hey, it's no big deal. A few zombies here and there are pretty easy to avoid, especially when you can outrun them without too much trouble. They're only really dangerous if they're fast or if there are a lot of them, and they sure aren't fast! Only - well, before long, there are a lot of them. You can hardly go outside without running into one, and mobs form quickly. Went out for supplies? Let's hope they didn't follow you - you might get stuck in that shop, mobile corpses pounding on the door. Oh, and don't stand too close to the windows of your house. They'll be more than happy to smash the glass trying to get you.

Don't worry, though! A hard blow to the head will take these zombies out, and you'll be sitting pretty, as long as none of them bite you. None of them bit you... right? Wow, what a relief. We're all glad you're not concealing a life-threatening zombie bite from your friends! Who would do that, anyway? Now if you can manage that until the 20th, you'll be safe and sound as the zombies shamble out of the city. Hopefully you won't be shambling with them.

► This log covers September 14th-September 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!
► If you join the zombie party, please let us know here!

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[Does this look like the face of a child who believes you?]

Perhaps it will do you some good. You have very low stamina and I would hate to see you give out at a critical moment.

[Giving out life advice, as though it wasn't a dig at their shared history. Hahaha. They look over at the spire and then back to Sans. If he brought them here then it was obvious he had at least a general idea of where Chara and Frisk lived. And although their conversations were still tense, at least with Frisk there was (hopefully) less death threats involved. So...]

While you are here do you have any business with Frisk to take care of?

[It's the closets they'll ever offer him a break.]

[He bites back a veritable litany of retorts to that one - he's got stamina enough, mind, when it counts, and they should know. But, nah. He's not tryin' to get a rise outta them. Not when this is the closest they've gotten to a civil conversation with a minimum of mind games.]

Mostly just wanna check and make sure they aren't dead or anything. But I guess you got that covered, huh?

[His head drops to his chest briefly, a resigned, darkly amused motion, as he chuckles.]

Looks like I was right.

Seems like someone really does care about 'em.

[This little exchange more or less confirmed it, what with the trusting him to not pull anything funny while he clipped them back to the spire. And now he knows it.]

[It's not easy to talk to Sans when they're not trying to talk around him. Couldn't keep going with his comedy routine back when Fear turned out the lights because they couldn't imagine things between them being any different. Didn't bother to try.

It's Chara's turn to bite back their own retorts, all of them involving Papyrus and that was probably getting old.]

They are my partner. Either they will be there and alive or somewhere else. Perhaps someone took them in or they died.

['Or they died' comes with a weary sort of acceptance. You die way to many times and you'd think someone would make a tally for the heck of it. Or just get bored. Yay, another trip to total blackness before you wake up at the last SAVE.]

Regardless, I do not believe you have the energy to fight more of those creatures so we should move. I will show you where we live, provided you can move.

I can move just fine.

[Slow, maybe, but that ain't new. He rolls his shoulders back, a reassuring fluidity of motion that makes him feel a bit more like he's reclaiming his wherewithal.

The terminology rubs him as odd. Their partner.

Interesting.

He makes his way to the door, a bit slower than might be typical for him, but direct and unerring.]

Y'know, [he says evenly, as easily as if he were discussing a peculiarity of the weather,] people tend to use the term "partner" to suggest equal footing. Equal say in how things go.

[The only logical way Chara knows that they can follow is from the side. Being in front of Sans had not ended well and being behind him equally so. Beside it was, pulling open the door and not holding it open for him.

They live on the sixth floor and there's only stairs. Enjoy.]

Perhaps. It can be used for romantic couples or close friends as well. But it is difficult to judge a pairs' relationship from just a word.

[They don't look at him but hopefully their point is made. It'll take more than that.]

Yeah. 'Course. You don't gotta explain the concept of multiple meanings, kid; my sense of humor's reliant on it.

[Oh boy. Stairs. He wonders, vaguely, is that was their way at getting back at him somehow. For...he's not sure what. The countless deaths he must've inflicted upon them? Yeah, probably.

He's slow, excruciatingly ponderous as he ascends, but ascend he does.]

Just mean that it doesn't really line up with what you told me earlier. 'Bout how you only come out to play if there's real violence afoot.

[It's amusing to watch him go up when they know how fast Sans can actually move. But they can't really spend their time laughing at him when they needed to think.]

And you are basing this on the terms I use to speak about a child? Perhaps I like calling those I am with 'Partner'. Perhaps if we had met and bounded the same way, I would have called you the same.

[Perhaps nothing. Thankfully Chara had years of building a blank face that happened to include a smile on the occasions when it was needed. Half way up now, and they'll check and leave if Frisk is gone. Any day now...]

You're a kid too.

[Not that it really needs saying at this point. All it takes is one child, one real, real determined human child, to completely and utterly desecrate an entire species.

That's just how it is.]

But...nah, I don't think so. I don't think you would've risked piggybackin' off my little shortcut if you weren't worried about 'em.

[He keeps climbing, with a level of effort that hints that he'd be panting if he had any lungs to speak of.]

Just goes to show.

Edited 2016-09-15 03:41 (UTC)

It is too late to merely call me a 'kid'.

[They know it goes without saying but sometimes it just felt better to say it. They were just a thing that cut a dusty path through the Underground. Yell at them, get it all out.]

That I care? I told you before Sans, there is plenty of LOVE within my heart and I plan on sharing it.

[That should be enough. That was all he needed to know. Why was he so interested in his own murderer? Why did he need to know about a dead child? It didn't matter. Being judged, no matter what they did, didn't matter.]

Sure you do.

[He opens a hand in fluid supination, acknowledging their words with a tilt of his skull.]

You got plenty of LOVE. But all the LOVE in the world can't squash out every little scrap of feelin' you got, can it? You wouldn't've taken my offer if that were the case. Nah. Nah, see, I don't think I buy it.

[He keeps climbing the stairs, his tone even and flat and as conversational as if he might be discussing a great new practical joke he worked out, and not the instrument and mechanism of his own death. His, and the deaths of almost every living thing in the Underground.]

This "demon" thing you're sellin'? I don't think it's you. Whatever the hell you are now, whatever the hell you keep sayin' you are, you started out human, yeah? Must be, with that kinda DT. You don't get that natural.

So what happened to you, kid? What made ya decide that you were better off hurtin' everyone else first?

[They keep climbing.

LV 20. The highest they could go with all that LOVE. Once the EXP finished calculating everything just stopped for a second. All that rage and frustration melted away into nothing and it felt wonderful. Chara had been brought to Hadriel on the cusp of that nothingness. And then it stopped again. Only this time it had a baseline. They could feel. Curiosity, amusement, anger and so forth. No matter how much they tried to push it down it was still there. Chara couldn't get rid of it so they spoke like they didn't have it in the first place around others. Like a demon. They didn't have to worry about stupid things like that. Demons didn't have to be human.

"Didn't think there was room for a 'We' when you're chock-full of LOVE."

There wasn't. Chara was a scrap of a SOUL held within another's. If they had been whole then things would have turned out horribly. Look how it went the first time. They killed Asriel. So, remaining as the voice in the back of someone's mind was for the best. Or not. In this case, both Chara and Frisk shouldered the blame for walking down that path. They both killed nearly everyone and Chara had every intent on finishing the job. Maybe it would still happen or maybe not. They didn't know.

Determination. What all humans had. The power to shape the world, the strength to keep going. Haha, they were probably cursed with that, to keep going when all they wanted to do back then was stop. It never went away. Never will.

So what happened to them? Nothing they wanted to remember. Nothing they want to say. They cannot speak for Frisk. They don't want to speak of themselves.]

* It's me.

[Quiet as a whisper and they finally reach the door to the apartment. There's more room here, more room to notice that Chara never once put the Real Knife away and how white their knuckles are from gripping it.

They go to open the door but stop.]

Sans.

[There are few things they could say at this point. And it is easier to shut down and go back to being that sassy, untouchable demon. But they don't. For once, they don't.

* Name the human.
* Chara]

I am not a good person. I only know basic recipes and I am not a good friend. But I wish to know something too.

Why do you want to know these things about someone who hurt you? I killed your brother and you. There should be no reason to ask me what is wrong.

[Because it would be easier to just hate them. Drop the other shoe already. They are bored. Because they have to be. There's no red text, but they have to be.]

[There's subtleties, shifts in their stance that becomes more obvious when they both stop outside the door to the apartment they share with Frisk. The bright, bloodless grip they have on the knife they're holding, that red, terrifying thing that leaves trailing motes of scarlet like flakes of ash, like embers. That thing that was too powerful and too terrible, that had cleaved him neatly in two with disproportionate damage. Blade cutting easily through bone, slicing into it like butter, through clavicles, through ribs.

Sometimes he wakes up with the long diagonal tingle sunk in his ribs. Not so surprising. He's pretty sure he's dreamed of that before. Pretty sure he's died in that exact manner. Who knows how many times.]

Maybe I'm curious.

[He leans against the wall, sweat cooling, the magic slipping away and dissolving into nothing as he recovers composure, slow and even.]

Maybe...heck, maybe Papyrus is rubbin' off on me. Maybe I don't rightly know. [He laughs, but there's not much humor to it. It's dry enough to desiccate oceans, empty enough to join ̙̫͍̫͑̇̽́ͣͮ̾̀ ̌̑ ͖͕̀̽͑̌ ͔̪ͩ ͖͖̺̉̿̆͒ͦ̂ͩ ̀̈́̎ͨ̔͏̯̻̱̺̭͉̦ ̙͓̠͉̤͚̀ ̯ͯ̽̊͋́ ̈́̉̓̐͗ͮ ͈͈̮̟͈̩̹ͩͩͮͧ̏̑̇ ̹͙͕͌͗͂̄̓ ̏̑̚͏̠̬ ̵͎̬̪̤̦̦̰̀̈́͋̾ͮ̄ in that nonexistent void.]

Like it or not, we're stuck here together. And we gotta live with each other. So maybe I'm still figurin' out how to do that. Live. Live in a way that's not just - day to day. Minute to minute. You know how it is.

[The lights in his eyesockets dim for a brief moment. He's takin' a small risk here. He doesn't, as a rule, do that. Not ever. Can't afford to take risks. Not for thrills, not for anything. Always gotta be careful. Always gotta watch his goddamn step. There's a reason the kid never encounters him unless there's nothin' else, absolutely nothin' else left for him to do.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Papyrus believes in them. And they're not the empty, demonic thing they keep trying to sell everyone on. He's 95% certain of that hypothesis, and thus far, in this conversation - this conversation that's been like walkin' over eggshells concealing hot coals, for god's sake - he's got nothin' but confirmation of that fact. But maybe -

He's takin' a lot off faith here, but maybe - there's a glimmer of that good person he was talkin' about. A glimmer of someone who actually did wanna do the right thing. Maybe it got buried under all that other shit.

But he knows, maybe better than anyone, what it's like to wear that mask for so long, so goddamn long, that you forgot who you are beneath it.

I am not a good friend.

His sockets are empty and lightless, his grin a shade more regretful than it would be normally.]

Maybe I just know what it's like, to not be such a good person.

[The Real Knife was a weapon they weren't about to trade in for another. A blade so sharp and powerful and always clean no matter what they did to it. And no matter what Chara did to it, it would always change back to a Worn Dagger once they let go. A reminder of the paths not taken. These paths could involve people getting hurt, there was no getting around that. Where Papyrus lived, where Undyne ruled. Where Toriel came back or she went into hiding again. Asgore always died. Chara had yet to see an ending where he lived.

Eggshells. Walking on eggshells hurt so much. But after awhile Chara stopped caring. Stomped on those eggshells because after enough times, when your feet are already bloody, you can't be hurt when the shoe drops. Zero expectations. It had taken so long when they fell. Chara kept expecting to be kicked out. Once your bones heal, get out. But no. Butterscotch-cinnamon pie instead. Respect. Friendship. Love.

Toriel was dead. There was the option of going back, regardless of what Chara said. RESET. It was never not an option. But they didn't want an answer to yet another 'what if'. They didn't deserve a happy ending.

* You idly wonder.
* Why didn't the fall just kill you?
* It would have been better.

"But...st...still I believe in you! You can do a little better! Even if you don't think so! I...I promise..."

They can't look him in the eye. Chara can't meet that for once. This wasn't a judgement, wasn't something they really could spite back in his face. A situation they couldn't take their anger and rage, ball it up and throw it until it sticks.]

I am...

[They can feel their stomach churn. Because when you dig through all the LOVE and try to rip off your mask, you tear skin. You can't just pry it off without hurting yourself. As much as Chara was used to doing that, this was a new kind of pain. No matter what they did then, attacks on their heart would always hurt.

* You see a child standing on the edge of the abyss.

They open the door, push it open but don't go inside just yet.]

I am Chara. And perhaps...it is easier this way. Demons don't...demons don't have to be human.

[ * You don't want to be human.]

[He's not sure how long this is gonna last. This tenuous...whatever it is. It is, undeniably, the most open the pair of them have ever been with one another. He's still got - he's still got their name, could potentially hold that over their head, but whatever this is, whatever semblance of trust this might be, forged out of necessity and slow, painful conversation, he can't just completely dissemble that now.

God, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to hold a discussion without threading all those ulterior motives in and around the words, 'round the constraints of social convention, refusing to acknowledge what hung in the air until it was situationally appropriate.

He watches them open the door and hover out on the landing, wavering. He chuckles, an empty, tired huff of sound, ducking his head in acknowledgment.]

Heh, yeah. It's easier not to care, isn't it?

[LOVE, after all, is such a profound temptation. He'd kept his SOUL in only one person, and refused to bare it to more than a mere handful of monsters, if that. Had excelled in knowing dozens of monsters without a one of 'em knowing him in turn. Surrounded himself in meaningless noise and light, airy conversation without an ounce of depth to it.

So when it happens, when it comes, when they all get torn away - he minimizes the collateral. So he doesn't feel that inevitable wrench in his SOUL. 'Cause it's easier, so much goddamn easier, if you don't care.]

Why d'you think I never did a damn thing, huh?

Look. Like it or not, we're gonna have to live with this. With all of this. And things ain't like they are back home. Things stick, they have permanence. So maybe now I can't just keep holdin' out that things'll change the next go around, y'know?

[He got used to doing nothing, to doing absolutely nothing, because it was the only act that meant anything. If nothing he did mattered, why even try. If it all gets stripped away, what, then, what is the goddamn point in bothering to care at all?

He half-turns as if to head back down the stairs, his smile even and weary.]

Take care of yourself, kid. And take care of your partner too, yeah?

[They don't know either. That is why Chara believes it is a truce destined to fail. A meager amount of trust is not enough to stave off the inevitable. They both were standing in a hallway without gold and blood. But the child cannot help but look back on it. The casting of their judgement. Chara gave into the countless LOADs they had to perform to combat Sans and in turn the skeleton must have known the futility of standing where he stood. Perhaps it was once an epic fight to save the world that could be worthy of the history books.

But no. Just a horrible, awful slog.]

It is. Sometimes it is easier with a circle.

[With it out in the open, they don't feel better. Words rarely made them feel better. Words were sharper than the Real Knife would ever be. So, back when they lived on the Surface, Chara closed off their heart. Even empty conversations held no meaning. And if you never spoke to anyone then it wouldn't hurt. Why try and see if they would be proven wrong?

It did come later, when they fell. And with Frisk. They could speak to their partner without feeling awful. Perhaps that came with being the thing that voiced their thoughts. A type of relationship that was far too close, almost like a parasite.

This loop comes back to the hallway. To their judgement and why they kept walking while Sans spoke. True, they wanted to fight and eventually it became all that was left. There's only so many times you can hear or tell someone is a bad person before it just gets tedious.

But the reality of the situation was this: You cannot judge someone who had already condemned themselves a long time ago.]

I will. They will be safe. Look after your brother as well.

[Chara steps inside and turns to close the door. No, not yet. One last thing. They rarely said it. But it was a step. One inch closer towards the gaping maw of the abyss. But despite everything, maybe there was another side. And so...]

Thank you.

[They close the door, walk a few steps and drop the knife. That's all that was left.]

[As soon as the door snaps shut, he's gone. He raises one foot in the spire and when he puts it down, he's out on the streets again. Mercifully empty. For now, anyway. He'll have to get back to finding a safe spot, to finding Papyrus, to doing the long number of things he has on his to-do list.

Holy shit.

The longest the pair of them have gone without uttering a barbed jibe in one another's direction. The longest either of them have gone, period, without...well, without it completely crashing and burning on the spot.

"Look after your brother as well."

And then.

"Thank you."

Thank you.

For what? Talking? Listening? Trying to understand? He's almost too afraid, too afraid that he understands 'em better than he wants to admit. Better than maybe either of them would've thought.

A fresh wave of groans peels out from the nearby rubble, and Sans is gone again, flicking through city locations at rates that are too fast to be safe, carding through building after building until he's somewhere totally empty, somewhere he can sit down and think for two seconds.

What the hell has he gotten himself into?]

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Event Log: Dead Men Walking

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cw for suicidal ideation

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