hadriel_logs | Intro Log: HOLY F*^K THAT'S A F*&KI%G DRAGON

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Intro Log: HOLY F^K THAT'S A F&KI%G DRAGON

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for October
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: October 10th-13th
Warnings: New faces, new greeting posts, and dragons. What's more to want?

If your first thought upon waking up on the cold, hard ground of Hadriel's very own Colosseum is 'maybe I partied too hard last night', one, Delight would love you and two, you're wrong. Or- maybe you did, but that's not why you're here. Instead, you wake up with the same clothes you were wearing when you were last home, but surrounded by very different people. So, make some friends! Might as well voice your confusion and concern and show the technologically unsavvy of you how to operate these fancy new phones, right? Just be sure not to trip over these odd bags of chips on your way to greet your fellow man.

Don't spend too much time out in the open, though. There are monsters about, and not quite the usual ones. This month, Hadriel is bringing in four dragons, each with their own unique abilities and raidboss-esque stamina. They'll be terrorizing the city until someone puts them down- maybe that someone is you! Maybe you should, uh, actually hide. They're hungry and territorial and mean and they're definitely out for a good meal. Check out our OOC post for more information, as well as who will be eventually killing the beasts!

But hey, once you escape from the dragons, feel free to go explore the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies.

New, as of October's intro log is a Newcomer's guide that installs itself by default on every activated phone. Thanks, Mello!

Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers October 10th-13th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► All characters arrive with phones that have network communication and the newbie guide installed.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You gotta good point.

[He'd help speed things along if he weren't so, uh...useless, heh. A monster without any control of his magic ain't much of a useful thing at all, is he?]

I'd say I know a shortcut, but I think Confusion rattled me up pretty good. [So no dice there, which is all well and good.]

It's okay.

[A slight misstep, lifting their booted foot from the ground and wiggling it about.]

Walking's good for the sole.

[Seems like being useless isn't a good enough excuse to be left behind.]

[That gets a laugh.]

Toes are fightin' words, kiddo.

[He does a brief scan of the surroundings and - yep, looks like there's a shop or somethin' like that just down the block. Probably one that's open. He inclines his skull faintly in that direction.

Shall they?]

Sorry. I'll shoes my words wisely, from now on.

[And that gets a smile, path adjusting slightly as they deviate from the lax meanderings of two people trying to get away from imminent death to the shelter that might possibly ensure that.

And, more carefully (in the care of someone treading on thin ice, saying a word they feel they're forbidden from saying)-]

Maybe Papyrus can come pick you up.

[Papyrus. Chara's considerably more eager to mention him to Sans's face than Frisk. He'd consider the etiology of such an impulse, but it's...pretty obvious, huh?

Not as if he's really given 'em a reason to think he'd take kindly to them flauntin' any kind of familiarity with his brother.]

Maybe, yeah.

[Ah, and let's not think that pronoun escaped his notice.]

What about you, huh?

[Maybe it was too much to mention him at all. Frisk shrugs- eyes forward. They don't want to have to define the look on his face, right now.

They don't think it's anything good.]

I have laces to be.

[Not gettin' out of this one with shoe puns, kiddo, no matter how adorable they might be. Sans nudges the door open with the toe of his slipper and peers inside.

Empty. Good.

After you, kid.]

You know headin' back out there might leave ya with heel to pay, right?

[Beauties before beasts, Sans-- but fine, they'll go first. At least that's enough to have them looking at him again, watching like a hawk to ensure that the door really does shut behind him.

Then they point at his feet.]

I'm slippery.

[Peppy wordplay ain't gonna save you from that skeptical arch of a brow ridge. Slippery. Yeah, they were slippery all right, but they were slippery with their own crimson and it'd been - difficult to look at, even for a guy like him.

Reminder, right? Who needs 'em?

He lets the door swing shut, bracin' his palms on the nearest countertop with his weight on his wrists.]

And what's your partner gotta say about that?

[Really? He wants to play this game?

Their lips thin, just the slightest. More than happy to provide him context on just why that won't (shouldn't, though their gut is twisting with guilt at the thought of Chara crying again) work.]

That I should help them kill a dragon.

[If Papyrus is his obvious Achilles', it's gotten real damn clear that Chara's is Frisk's. And the other way around, to. And some part of him, some real good and wary part, the part that he wishes he could say didn't exist - some part of him has that on file, should he ever require it.

Right now.]

Kid, I know you're all about determination and impossible feets. The both of ya. But I think sometimes you gotta know when to quit.

[...ah.

He didn't even really mean to regurgitate that line from the old script.

It just kinda.

It just kinda happened.]

[Sometimes, they hate him.

And it's not LOVE. Sans might think it is, but that's because- he doesn't know. He won't, and can never know, precisely what that is. What it feels like. What it doesn't feel like.

They kind of hate him sometimes, and it's in the way of a child who's been told no too many times without even getting a chance to explain themself.]

We don't get to quit.

No one gets to quit.

[Their hands withdraw into their sleeves, tugging at the material sharply.]

I already tried.

Whaddaya mean, no one gets to quit?

[They're not really sure what they -

His eyesockets track the tiny motions they make as their hands retract into their sleeves like Gerson into his shell, and then he don't need to ask the question anymore, does he? Heh, nope, he doesn't need to imagine a single damn thing because he knows what that looks like, what, do they think he hasn't thought of it every damn repeated day of his life, hasn't seen the way Alphys looks and how she stands there and how desperately he knows she wants it and

boy does he wish for it sometimes, like a curse

he don't even really need to think too hard it.]

[Uh.

Heh.

Heh heh heh.

This is, uh. This is gettin' a little too immediate for him, isn't it? Probably for the best he can't just nip right on out, 'cause the temptation to do so is overpowering.]

[but he doesn't.

Instead he stands there, and looks at 'em square.]

Mt. Ebott.

[His skull tilts to one side, his smile wide and wide and wide and fixed.]

Lotta legends surroundin' a mountain like that. Isn't there?

[What they mean to say is- this is to say, they only meant that they'd-

The bad thing about anger, unlike LOVE, is that it's easy to snuff out. When someone's looking at you square, skull tilted to one side, and a smile that's wide and wide and wide and fixed.

They didn't mean it like that. Not that they- but they didn't mean it like that, this time. That wasn't what they meant, and the words are there but they get stuck in their throat as their fingers keep anxiously tugging at their sleeves.

That wasn't what they meant.

But he's not wrong.]

[He laughs. It's a hoarse, rasping, unpleasant sound, like a razor blade dragged over stone.]

Yep. Lotta legends and stories. Stories about one mountain that tried to beat all the others, got an idea in its head that it could reach heaven if it reached high enough. Stories about somethin' buried deep in the core of the earth that pushed so hard to get out that it almost punctured the very skin of things.

[You already tried.

You already tried.]

And those, those're just the nice ones. I'm sure the humans on the surface had all sorts of terrible stories. About why those who climb the mountain never return.

[Well, kid?

Is he getting warm?]

[The thing that hurts here isn't what he's saying. It's not based on any sense of inaccuracy, or the descriptions of horrible things, and how untrue they actually are in comparison to what the mountain hides. Mount Ebott, where travellers are said to disappear.

The thing that hurts is that they wouldn't know.]

I wasn't- [They chew the inside of their cheek, swallow. try again.] I wasn't talking about that.

[But they don't deny it. They don't deny a single word of it. Just say, what, I wasn't talking about that. Like there's a whole selection of moments where they decided, hey! Why not take a short walk off a long pier, just for kicks?

Well. Okay. Let's take a step back here. It's possible he's gettin' ahead of himself. He keeps his hands in his pockets, he leans up against the door, and he looks at them. Maybe a bit harder than he needs to, but he's kinda reached a point in his life where he thinks maybe he should be a little bit worried about 'em. Maybe, uh. Maybe more than a little.]

Then what were you talkin' about?

[He blocks the doorway, and they can't consider that anything but purposeful. No avoiding the current trend of topic; what were you talkin' about, Frisk? What did you mean?

...]

My SOUL.

[It feels like a guilty admission. It feels and tastes like failure, like telling him 'sorry, but it doesn't work. There's no getting rid of me.']

I would've given it to someone if I could.

[It doesn't work. No one gets to quit.]

Your -

[Oh geez. Oh...hell.

He passes a hand over the crown of his skull, down the back of his cervical vertebrae, feelin' for all the world a bit more needled than is typical for him. His hands go back in his pockets. Not that they're really shakin', mind, but it's just better to make everything about him as unreadable as possible. It's just plain instinct at this point.]

You can't, though. Can you?

[The words are dull, resigned. Haven't died once, have you, buddo? Haven't died once, because every time you do, every time your SOUL leaves your battered body, it...

Well.

There's no use in tryin' to harvest something that's broken, is there?]

Nope.

[The 'pe' pops, echoes in the silence. Just because he's trapping them here doesn't mean they have to look at him, sleeves gathered into bunched fistfuls so tight, the collar is digging into their shoulders.

They want to say, I'm sorry.

They don't think he deserves it. And the bitterest parts of them- they want to ask if he does this to Chara, as well.

There's a difference between a neutral expression, and one that's been closed off. The latter, when directed at him, is outright cold.]

Do you want me to text Papyrus for you?

Nope.

[He pops the "p" in parallel to theirs, like the deliberate echo it is, only somehow he does it without lips. Maybe they're decidin' he ain't worth their time anymore. But, you know, that's fine. He's fine with that. They wouldn't be the first and they sure as hell won't be the last.

What's he say, though? What's he say to this?

We gotta have a talk here, buddy.

Yeah, right. They've both of 'em done nothing but talk, and he still feels like he's gettin' nowhere. Which, heh, is real fitting all things considered, but he's still not feelin' too pleased about it. Nah, not one bit.]

No, I think we'd better talk about this, kid.

[Isn't he the one who keeps saying it? That they should know when to QUIT?

Maybe he should take his own advice. They stare back silently, lips thinning, hands still fisted and so unerringly still, like they expect him to eventually glance over and away, like he'll lose interest.

Or maybe he won't, and that's fine. Because they can always-

Turn around and walk away, and look for another door out.]

[Yeah, all right. They just turn around and go, and his - he can't exactly shortcut on in front of 'em, 'cause that'd be exactly what he'd do if he had it in him, but he doesn't. He can just watch their retreatin' back and debate the merits of pursuing them, goin' on after 'em, trying to push a kid who don't much wanna be pushed.

But always, always, the thought of having to put any actual effort into it is -

Well, it's. Damn near exhausting just thinking about it. He couldn't stop 'em in that golden hallway. He couldn't stop 'em from finishing their journey. He can't stop 'em now.

So he doesn't.

He folds up and leans back against the door, and watches 'em leave, knowin' that they're both just delaying whatever inevitable consequence will emerge from all this. Not findin' it in him to care all that much at the moment.

Like him, they can't keep dodging forever.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Intro Log: HOLY F^K THAT'S A F&KI%G DRAGON

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1/3 cw suicide ideation like woah

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CW implied suicidal ideation whops

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