hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dazed and Confused

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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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Sans' question is one that makes Chris feel an odd mix of guilt and fear; he's pretty sure it was indeed an accident, but what if it wasn't? And even if it was, what if asking sets him off enough to prompt a purposeful attack?

No. That's not likely--he really, really hopes--and if it does happen, the now steadily returning fear isn't going to help. It's best to try and just ignore it, even though it's twisting in his chest again as he answers.]

I-I wish I didn't, but um... T-Too many bad experiences with friends not to.

[And what a sad, pathetic fact that is.]

[His hand braces against the countertop as he tries to drag himself back upright. He only ends up slipping lower until finally he just thinks, fuck it, and abandons himself to the press of gravity, lets his body slide down the counter's vertical surface in a protracted drag of clothing against wood.]

Y'know, I, uh, I kinda get that.

[His tone is even and controlled, as always. He's always had a fantastic poker face.]

But, heh. Yeah. Accident.

[The problem with a poker face is that no matter how good it is, when it's used in the wrong situation it's just as telling as any other expression. And, sure, Sans could really feel that neutral about the subject, but Chris' intuition tells him that the apparent ambivalence that had been bothering Chris before isn't real.

So he takes a deep breath and tries to still his nerves, hiding his trembling hands in his hoodie pocket as he watches Sans' change in posture.]

O-Okay. Then um, w-we need to figure out, you know. A-A way to stop it from happening again.

[Sure, there's only so much that can be done in an event, but there's still always something.]

It won't.

[For the first time, there's a deviation from the jovial, measured flatness of the words, a harder, flatter edge. Not a promise, nah. But something he's gonna hold himself to regardless, and knows he can, and knows he will.

He does not hurt people. That is not what he does. Not unless he's got a damn good reason for it, and that? That was not a reason at all.]

That isn't realistic.

[It's a cautious reminder, voice quiet, still wary but more and more truly convinced the whole thing really was an accident.]

I-If you could've controlled it before you would've, right?

[So it's more important to look for any hint as to why it happened and how to either predict it or stop it once it's started.]

[For the first time, Sans looks at Chris directly. The lights in his sockets are no different than usual - maybe a bit dilated, his skull a bit shinier with sweat, but otherwise? Otherwise he's the same lazy skeleton as always.]

Adjustment periods are always rough, pal. And now I've adjusted.

[There's some cold sense of wrongness settling in Chris' stomach, though it's more at the situation in general than caused specifically by Sans. For a moment--or several moments--he feels like he should just let the topic go and back off, but he can't; if he just ignores the blatant lie and someone gets hurt, then what?]

Y-You know that's not how this sort of thing works.

[It's fainter than his voice normally comes out, because he's having to force himself to say it instead of letting the entire subject go, but it's important.]

[He's been stammering this whole time. Anxious. It's written all over his face, the lines of his stance and his shoulders.

He's scared of him.

Well. Can you blame him, really? Nah. Sans can't, in good faith, blame the kid for bein' a little freaked out, more than a little freaked out, just based on what he's said Hermann's told him.]

And you know how it works, then?

[By all means, he almost adds acidly, educate me.

Do tell him how to control something that ain't doin' a whole lot to be controlled at the present moment. Do tell him how his own powers work. Go on. Let's hear it.]

[He can read the undertones to that question and fear is settling in again, heavily enough that he's--almost paradoxically--feeling it less and less. It's that numbness that often falls over him when he's willing himself to stay calm but is too overwhelmed and on edge to actually handle it correctly.

Instead, it lets him focus on a goal and ignore everything else but the steps it takes to get there, and right now that goal is to get through to Sans and therefore try to prevent anyone else getting hurt.]

I-I know how these sort of events work. T-They don't just stop, and you don't just adjust, s-so if you really don't want something like what happened before to happen again then you can't just... Y-You can't just be in denial about it.

Do I look like a guy, [Sans rumbles softly, smiling and smiling and smiling as he sits there and stares at Chris, unblinking, goddamned merciless with the hard spike of intensity being driven down the vein of discussion like a razor blade scraped over stone,] who's in denial?

[He braces his spine against the counter. His hands slide down to either side of him. He grins on like always, like not a damn thing is wrong.

Not a damn thing is wrong. He can feel this, all of this, teetering precariously on a precipice he don't feel like lookin' over, and he knows it is because he knows this was just kinda bound to happen. And happen it did. Like clockwork. Ping.]

But, uh. Yeah. Okay. Let's go there.

[His tone is nothing short of utterly reasonable as he opens a hand.]

What's your plan, huh? What's it you're all thinkin' you'll do? Since, clearly, you've all discussed this at some length.

Edited (huh huh huh huh huh) 2016-09-26 06:25 (UTC)

C-Cut it out, okay?

[It's not what he means to say first, but it just comes out underneath the mix of emotions and stress he's feeling now; it isn't just this situation though, really, but a combination of many that prompt the sudden surge of frustration and anger that come through in his words rather than his voice.]

I-I don't know if like, you're trying to just be evasive until I give up, o-or if you're trying to scare me into it, but I'm getting really sick of this being the default 'use against Chris' tactic. S-So fucking cut it out and just... A-At least pretend you care about trying to do something to help the situation.

[He isn't sure if he's more angry or afraid at this point, but maybe they're even. Either way the emotions are just ending up as frustration, which is even less helpful.]

I-I haven't 'discussed at some length' with anyone, I just heard what happened and, you know, figured maybe it'd be a good idea to try do whatever, because anything's better than nothing. But that kind of doesn't work if you're just, totally set on pretending there's nothing wrong, so really it's just up to you at this point if you want to try or just leave it to chance.

Edited 2016-09-26 06:49 (UTC)

[Huh. Guess Chris is pretty pissed off. At least, that's the general vibe he's getting. Sans watches him and says nothing, waits for his diatribe to be delineated in full.

Pretend you care. Yeah, Sans. Why can't you pretend you care? Why can't you do this, the bare minimum? Why don't you do something, Sans?

If he had 5 G for every time he heard that one.

He doesn't blink, and he doesn't say much of anythin'. Not much to say, really, until Chris's little spurt of diplomatic outrage there has sputtered out and Sans has the floor again. Heh. He has the floor all right. Slumped and sprawled out against it. What a real danger, huh? What a threat to everyone's lives.]

Okay.

[He, uh, can't seem to stop smiling. Pretending nothing is wrong just happens to be big enough in his wheelhouse for it not to be a reflex so much as a permanent state of being.]

So I repeat my earlier question: what, exactly, is your plan here? 'Cause if this is for a "greater good" thing - I applaud ya, buddy, I really do. And maybe that'll work out in theory.

How well d'you think it'll pan out in practice?

[Now that he's stopped talking the anger is draining back out, and Chris is returning to the odd numb feeling from before. But despite that Sans' response still seems somewhat flippant, it's more than before and Chris refocuses on the original plan of trying to figure out something to do.

But he honestly doesn't have an answer just yet. He just isn't willing to give up and accept that there's nothing they could do; surely they can come up with something that will help even the slightest amount.]

Better than not doing anything.

[It's the first answer he gives, more confident than pretty much anything else he's said so far.]

W-When it um, went off earlier, was there any sort of warning? What happened when you tried to stop?

[So we're applying logic to this whole debacle now. Fantastic. Sans leans back against the counter until his skull thuds dully against the varnished wood, eyesockets slipping closed as he abruptly lets all of his unnatural intensity drain away.

Better than not doing anything, is it?

Yeah, he's real sure it is. That's gonna work out real great, Sans is just, he is real fuckin' positive of that. Gonna work out incredibly optimally, and exactly as everyone envisions.]

Didn't account for it goin' off at all, [he comments dully, more to the ceiling than anything else, sockets still shut.] But yeah. It hurt like hell. Eventually I figured what was up and got outta there before anything else went pear-shaped.

[The situation seems to be calming a bit, and so Chris is--just slightly--as well. Sans' answer is actually better than he was expecting, too, and something in particular stands out for more clarification.]

You were able to leave? Like through your um, teleporting or whatever it is, or...?

Soon as I worked things out, yeah. At first I figured it was safer not to bother movin' at all.

[His eyesockets flick open, and his grin freezes in a colder, more edged rictus.]

Yeah, turns out my dear ol' roomie didn't take to that idea too well.

So... Even though some of your powers were going all wonky, you could use a different one on purpose?

[That's interesting, and if it holds up it could also be a pretty simple solution to avoiding seriously hurting anyone else.

But that last comment and the change in Sans' expression gives him pause, not quite in renewed alarm but in feeling there's something he's really missing here.]

What um... What exactly happened? I mean, he didn't tell me any details, just like... That gravity got all messed up.

Gravity got all messed up.

[Sorry Chris, he ain't gonna be any more forthcoming than that.]

Things got outta - heh, outta "hand."

[God he's an ass. But it's true, ain't it? Things got outta hand. They got outta hand, all right, and then they got a little too pointed for his tastes. He'd panicked. He'd panicked and the urge to do something had been overwhelming until he'd just done whatever he could to save his sorry, stupid tailbone.]

More like I just tried everything I could until something got me outta there.

[He's quickly becoming too drained to feel much frustration at the non-answers, even if distantly there's a sense of irritation that Sans is still keeping this up. But fine. There's something here that can be worked with.]

Okay. Fine.

[It isn't pointed or even frustrated, just accepting he's not going to get more of the story than that. Sans can deal with his interpersonal issues on his own.]

But um, something worked eventually. That's at least better than just having to wait it out, but uh... Did it just, suddenly stop happening? Your powers acting out? Or did you figure out something specific that stopped it?

[Non-answers are about all he knows how to deliver. Old habits, and all. Seems they have a harder time dying than he does.]

Nope.

[He'd demonstrate, but he thinks he's shattered enough bones and friendships to last him a while, thanks very much. Yeah. He's done with that.]

No way of really holdin' it back. Just mitigatin' it by makin' sure I'm someplace that's else when it happens.

[And makin' sure the collateral ain't too high.]

[Yeah he'd appreciate the lack of a demonstration, especially a purposeful one. An accidental one he could at least shrug off.]

Okay, well, that's a plan. I mean, I know it's kind of tough to get anywhere in specific, but do you think your powers would activate if you're sleeping or something? Maybe you can just hole up in one of the empty apartments or houses and just kind of ride things out.

Well, gee. Real scintillating insight, kid.

[The sarcasm wouldn't be at all evident from tone alone - it's completely reasonable and pleasant and jovial as always. But the words have a certain bite that belies Sans's typical even-tempered nature.]

I'll be sure to get outta your hair, then.

[He braces hands against the floor with a bit more firmness, dragging slippershod feet beneath his body's weight to slowly lever himself upright. It's an excruciating process. Even a bit of time spent reclining on the bar room floor didn't do much to recover his spent strength.]

Don't be a dick.

[Chris' own response is maybe surprisingly even, said with in a relatively casual way despite that he can read the undertone to Sans' words. He might've been more annoyed if he were feeling less numb, but right now all he's really thinking about is how many times he's had to say that to someone in the past week or two alone.

He also isn't ready to just let Sans wander off, either, less because of concern that Sans might do something--sure, it's a risk, but Chris is getting more and more willing to bet Sans doesn't purposefully want to hurt anyone and Chris can accept an accident--and more because he can't possibly justify leaving him in such seemingly bad condition. He'd offer to help him find a good place to go, but before that--]

L-Look, it's just us here right now; I'll lock the door so no one else wanders in, and you can just chill here for a bit. You um, don't look great. No offense.

[Playin' mediator, is he? Playin' messenger bird? Yeah, that's sure work out real great for him in the long run. He ever get tired of that? Bein' talked around? Bein' the guy who carrier-pigeons arguments back and forth? Is he gonna ferry this all over to Hermann now, like that'll fix anything? Maybe lend some insight to a problem that can't be fixed with some spackle and glue?

Nah.

Things're pretty damn broken. Sans broke them. And fixing 'em sounds like a whole lotta effort.

You know how he feels about effort.

He cracks an eyesocket open as he manages to hook an elbow over the top of a stool, use the weight of the thing as leverage to get himself wobbling and semi-upright.]

Sendin' me real mixed messages here, kid.

You wanna stop playin' on the fence with this?

I don't know if you've um, noticed, but that's sort of what I do.

[It's almost a self-deprecating joke--how many times since he's been here has someone told him he needs to take a stand and stop trying to appease everyone? At least three or four--but it's mostly just a tired truth. His hands are still shaking, hidden in the pocket of his hoodie, and he's still too unsure to actually reach out and try to help steady Sans, but he's watching in concern all the same.]

B-But I mean, unless you're telling me what happened wasn't an accident, then no one's really at fault here except the gods. S-So it's not like there's really a fence; there's only one side.

Edited 2016-09-27 03:39 (UTC)

Event Log: Dazed and Confused

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