hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dazed and Confused

Entry tags:

Event Log: Dazed and Confused

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Dazed and Confused event!
Where: All around the city
When: September 24th-October 2nd
Warnings: None!

On the 24th of September, you wake up and everything seems pretty normal. You've got to head in for your shift at the guard, or at the clinic, or wherever else people go- maybe you're visiting a friend, maybe you're checking out the library, but either way as soon as you step out onto your street, you're in a foreign location.

No, you haven't been transported anywhere weird. Well, not by anything other than your own two feet. And hey, you could recognize a landmark and know your way back from there! But somehow you turn left instead of right and now everything is confusing again. It's not that the city itself is changing, but rather, it's your ability to take direction and move in the way that you think you should.

On top of all that, of course, is the strange inversion of most abilities. Everything is topsy turvy with your various powers or individual skills, so be on the lookout for some odd changes. Maybe you're usually pretty good at reasoning and now you can't think your way out of a paper bag, or maybe you have fire powers that start shooting icicles instead- either way, it's weird. Hopefully you can deal with it without injuring yourself too much, but... well, it's kind of difficult to make any guarantees when you can't even find your way to the clinic when you accidentally break something.

► This log covers September 24th-October 2nd.
► 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 walk into the lake and drown or have some other unfortunate mishap, please let us know here!

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Great, that doesn't sound creepy at all. But okay, if there's any horrifying glowing in the eyesocket of a talking skeleton, he'll try to make himself stop shaking in terror long enough to run.

Chris is so not convinced by Hermann's response, and sure he might look steadier than he feels but that still doesn't mean he looks at all steady enough for Chris to trust to be totally fine wandering off alone.

"I'll um, have more than enough time to get more coffee later. It's not a problem." He offers a small but genuine smile. "W-When I uh, first got here, I was... Pretty banged up, and kind of made things worse running around even if I wasn't going very far. It seems like a jerk move to just let you do the same thing because of some coffee." Not that coffee's at all a real issue here, but the real underlying concern--and that Chris isn't at all judging Hermann for potentially needing or accepting help--should be clear enough from that.

The difficulty with speaking directly to Mr. Chris, face to face, is the young man's easy sincerity. His texts did not lack it, necessarily, as he typed enough and kept himself so involved, so widely available, that they expressed much the same. Yet, texts are necessarily more impersonal, more bled of tone and feeling, that much of why Hermann prefers them.

Small smiles and tentative admissions, the sort meant to elicit empathy, understanding, and so good at it, it could be manipulative if it was another person. He doesn't know Mr. Chris well, and he isn't versed in that sort of thing, but it's too daft of an idea, Mr. Chris manipulating anyone. Hermann looks at him, flatly, and though the numbers, the counts, shred and slip distressingly through his head, he thinks of another young man in another like place who hadn't been anything like Mr. Chris, really, but he'd helped him.

Hermann's good at demanding it, but clumsy in accepting.

"That was stupid of you," he says, a dry observation, but more to follow with, "as it would be of me, and so my own responsibility."

Not Mr. Chris's and so, not a jerk move. But. Hermann sighs, pivoting toward the door.

"If you insist. Don't complain if it takes awhile."

It can, indeed, be manipulative; Chris isn't fond of that tactic--it makes him feel incredibly guilty--but he isn't innocent of it, either. That's especially true here, when there have been situations where he's used his talent for empathizing with and understanding people in order to protect himself and try to diffuse a conflict, and he's well aware that it's a tactic that works because people don't expect it from him. That just makes him feel guiltier.

But right now, just as most of the time, it's genuine and comes from a desire to help. He smiles a bit more when Hermann agrees, even if it's in a roundabout way and half an insult. It doesn't bother him at all.

"I totally won't complain." He promises, moving to follow Hermann toward the door. "Besides, I had stuff I was supposed to get done today that--unfortunately--involve leaving the house, so..." So he has to go out anyway, and making sure Hermann makes it to the Clinic isn't an inconvenience.

Far be it for him to dissuade a nice young man from being a nice young man, and thus, possibly lead to the development of bad habits. (Though he is himself either thirty-six or thirty-eight and so should perhaps stop thinking like a man twice that age.) Even if Mr. Chris's smile widening upon his acceptance makes him uncomfortable.

The etiquette of leaving a house one walked obliviously into escapes him and he hesitates at the door, considering. "At the bar?" Absently, knowing that he has seen Mr. Chris there, at least, as he wonders whether he's supposed to exit first, or wait for the host to lead.

A small, insignificant detail, and his mind hooked on it. He yields after two seconds of debate to letting himself out, stepping onto the path. It looks familiar, doesn't it? It isn't far.

Chris intends to let him go out first anyway, so it all works out in the end. He pulls the door shut behind them, then gives a small shrug at the question as they start toward the Clinic. Hopefully, anyway.

"Yeah. I mean, Delight doesn't really enforce us doing the whole coffee thing when there's an event going on, but I can I still want to. And um, I need to try to find some more stuff for the house too, since we kind of went from three to seven people really fast."

And so keeping enough food and whatever else needed for everyone is a challenge. It doesn't help that communication isn't exactly smooth between all seven of them either, for various reasons.

Hermann arches his eyebrows at that, wondering if Miss Delight would enforce it at any time. More than that, it isn't worth the comment, but Hermann could understand if similarly motivated: the virtue of busy hands. It may only be serving coffee at a bar, but it was something, a service, a benefit to some person or persons.

"Seven? I suppose you're all keeping vegetarian? At least we've got the garden." With, by now, anything unpalatable or toxic removed. Seven seems a lot for a single house. Were there rooms or bedrooms enough for them? He doesn't care enough to ask; it's their business how they arrange it.

In the meantime, he tries to keep a narrow focus on the path, their surroundings. It should be such a simple thing. He knows these roads. Though it could be a concussion, given the rest of him (and given, too, the mental haziness of any number he attempts to hold fast to), it shouldn't have caused that. With the spiral madness, he had not always been able to feel his mind slipping -- sometimes, sometimes. Would he be able to pinpoint it if it were that which he won't consider? If it truly is Miss Confusion?

"I don't know if everyone is, but uh... Yeah. Most of us, at least, and Sam was vegan before everything happened anyway." Indeed it's helpful that the orchard exists, even if Chris is still not super sure on trusting something provided by a god other than Hope. It's part of the reason he hadn't voted for Sorrow in the first place.

Chris is focusing less on where they're going specifically, letting his sense of direction and subconscious memory guide him instead, more attention on making sure Hermann is doing alright. He's still not actually sure if his own injury from home had actually been a concussion--he assumes so since he'd been knocked out for a sizeable length of time--and other than causing a massive headache it hadn't, thankfully, impaired him much throughout the night, but he's known people who've had head injuries before. It's enough experience that he wants to be cautious, and so is keeping a careful watch on Hermann for any more worrying symptoms.

"Mm. Well -- I don't envy seven under one roof." At least the Shatterdome was big and few wanted anything to do with Kaiju Science, the product of both personalities. Perhaps because of his lengthy conversation with Mr. Sorrow, Hermann does trust him. He also independently maintained, maintains, that tampering with that food source would be unlikely to cause sorrow as the primary or even tertiary emotional response.

And as yet another, if entirely incidental benefit, it has been a rather interesting time sink (busy hands), cataloging the vegetables and fruits, finding commonalities, grimacing over the terrible names Newton came up with. (As obviously Hermann's choices, such as Root Vegetable #3, were much better.)

It has not been so many steps. He had thought he'd been counting, but finds he isn't sure of the number. As many as should have had them at the clinic? He isn't sure. He isn't sure. But not so many that he's too unsteady, having had the opportunity to sit and rest at Mr. Chris's house. No, he's leaning harder on his cane, much harder than he likes to, and he's a terrible color, but he's fine, only, how long have they been walking?

Hermann wobbles, slowing, frowning at the road. "How -- how much longer?" He hates to ask, he should know, he does know, only...

"Yeah, it's uh, not great." Especially since Chris prefers living alone. Six roommates is way too much, though Chris suddenly remembers that it's not just the seven of them.

"Oh yeah, and the wolf. Don't forget the wolf."

Because this is their lives, now.

At the question Chris glances around, frowning a little, because yes they should be at the Clinic by now. Actually, they're not terribly far, just a few blocks over, but... Why are they a few blocks over at all?

"We're uh, we're close, but... Maybe it isn't just your concussion after all." Though that also seems to be a problem--if it is a concussion after all--because wow, Hermann looks terrible. Chris really, really wishes his blessing was working. "I think um, you should sit down again, just for a sec."

Because Chris is not entirely sure he could carry Hermann to the Clinic, though he probably could if he absolutely had to. He'd rather not, though, for both their sakes.

The wolf.

"Oh yes," Hermann agrees, his expression not a whit altered, "mustn't forget the wolf."

Because this is their lives, now would be a sentiment too, too familiar to him.

Ridiculous, but no more or less than anything else. Really, some might say it ought not have taken Haven to breed that in him, what with the kaiju -- the beasts the size of skyscrapers that had so long attacked his world. They'd become a norm, yes, but what a norm. A wolf joining a shockingly high number of friends from the same world (that seems to be -- he's assuming, but that's the sense of it), why not? (Though, with the high representation from Earth or versions of Earth, if there were strangers from the same planet, they couldn't possibly know. Easier for Hermann. See: kaiju.)

For a dragging second, and only one, it is even funny, the creepings of a hysteria not unlike that with Mr. Pinkman, but the puzzle of the clinic orients, grounds. The fact it may be more than his head, that there may be something to it -- bad for Mr. Chris perhaps, bad for them as an attempting-to-get-somewhere whole, but reassuring for his head.

"Ah," and then, also, "Oh." Sit down. Annoying, but, "Astute observation," muttered, because if he looks anything like he feels, actually, less astute, more, oh good, he's got eyes. Otherwise he'd likely need Mr. Chris's arm soon, and then more, and -- and he steps off the road, yielding, too out of sorts to fuss over it. He sinks against a wall, biting back frustration that tastes like bile.

Perhaps because of that, he scrounges for useless pride elsewhere. "Well, if it isn't my concussion, you needn't stay. I'll be just as lost and it will already take you time to get wherever else you need to be, never mind back."

"Uh, no." Chris responds immediately, glad to see Hermann sitting down but not entertaining his suggestion for even a moment. No way he's leaving; this doesn't change anything about the risks of letting Hermann try to get to the Clinic alone.

But now Chris isn't entirely sure how to get either of them there, actually; sure, he knows where they are now, but he'd although thought they were going the right way before. There has to be some way to work around this, though.

He glances toward Hermann, then toward the direction the Clinic should be; he has an idea, but he doesn't want to get too far from Hermann and risk them getting separated. So instead he steps a little closer, leaning against another nearby wall himself. "Well uh, this is annoying. But I think um, I might have an idea when we're ready to go again."

Worth a try? Probably not. Hermann shrugs, adjusts the angle of his cane, where his fingers fall along the shaft. For an idle, gathering moment, he drags the tip in the dirt, beginning an equation. He... thinks. His muscles stall, hesitate, as he squints down. Is it the concussion? He...

Hermann blinks, distracted (and guiltily glad for it) when Mr. Chris moves, when his eyes can be drawn by it, raising his eyebrows.

"I suppose anything would be an advantage on walking and hoping. What do you propose?"

Scratching the figures out with the tip, disturbed, close to depressed by the nonsense. Wondering if it would be something like breadcrumbs or string. Theseus in a labyrinth, abandoned children in the forest. ~~Nerds in a cave.~~ If it would counter, if just enough, whatever Miss Confusion's arrival had done to their heads, or the roads, or perception.

"Well um, I'm not having any trouble like, walking over to you when I can see you or whatever. So maybe if I stay in eyeshot of you, but go until I can see the Clinic, you can then come over to me and we can then get to the Clinic." Maybe. Hopefully.

It sounded a lot less stupid in his head.

"..." Hermann stares at Mr. Chris.

It is neither breadcrumbs nor string. He briefly wonders whether -- but they do not have string to hold, a kind of leash, their eyes will have to do the job. As much as it sounds daft, it's also the best they've got. The worrying thing is, if with the Clinic in view they nonetheless managed to overshoot it, can this be a guarantee? Well, the Clinic could not reach out and say, hullo, you daft pillock, you're passing me.

He shrugs, shifting his hand on his cane, beginning to heft himself to his feet. Wincing, some, at the jostling of his wrist.

"We might as well."

Chris looks a little chagrined at the staring, but then Hermann agrees so maybe it wasn't quite as useless as it sounded after all. Or maybe there just aren't any actually good ideas to choose from.

Great, story of his life.

But okay, might as well try. Chris glances at Hermann as he stands up, hesitant to move away from him, but hopefully he's steady enough.

"Okay, so, the Clinic should be like... I dunno, a hundred feet forward and two streets to the left. So I'm gonna try to go straight, parallel to it, and try to get it in sight. Let me know if I'm like, wandering off instead of going straight?"

And with that, he'll head off in the correct direction and hopefully it'll work. He feels like he's going straight, but who knows at this point.

Even with only bad ideas, one is bound to be marginally better. A matter of degrees. A perspective rooted in quantification, though his mind, for the first time in his life, struggles with that. The best he can do is stand up, is steady himself. He leans hard, the angle of his back close to 80, but no harder than he had been. At the proposal, Hermann nods, and watches the attempt.

Initially, Mr. Chris does keep straight. Initially.

"Unless it's my eyes, you're veering toward ten o'clock."

Still on the path, at least. With those, how are they becoming so jumbled? Hermann would look uneasily around, to confirm the streets connect where they should, or where he expects from the map, from his own traversing, but he's wary of looking away.

Chris stops at that, eyebrows furrowed as he looks around, and... Yeah, he's definitely drifted, even though before Hermann said anything it looked--and felt--like he was going straight. But now he notices that he's veered and is closer to one side of the street than the other, which is a really weird thing to realize.

"Okay. Creepy, but okay. Gonna try again; at least it's only like, one more block." So hopefully things will be fine on this small scale and he starts forward again; head turned a little to look in the direction the Clinic should come into view in.

When he catches sight of it between two buildings he gives an audible sigh of relief before shouting back to Hermann, without taking his eyes off the Clinic. "Found it!"

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Event Log: Dazed and Confused

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