hadriel_logs | Event Log: Why Do You Have To Be Mad?

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Event Log: Why Do You Have To Be Mad?

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Rage event!
Where: All around the city
When: December 15th-December 20th
Warnings: None! Well, potentially rage-induced destruction and fighting and maybe a tiny bit of murder? So, nothing out of the ordinary.

December is usually a time of festive holiday cheer... unfortunately, Hadriel isn't the sort of place that respects holidays. Rage has decided that it's time she's given her due and has put on another event! Unfortunately for everyone in the city, this event means that all characters are given a particularly aggravating pet peeve that entirely sets them into a flying rage.

See someone sleeping? They're now the object of your ire. See a tall building with a bunch of windows? Suddenly, all those windows need to be smashed. Fights are breaking out with depressing regularity, and a couple of them might be severe enough to injure someone in a bad way.

Look out for your fellow prisoners in Hadriel, and do try to figure out the categorizations of each person's issue fast- falling into these cycles of anger isn't good for anyone and is bound to make someone mad if you treat them wrong. Conversely, instead you can just find someone who has the same loathing as you and let your feelings amplify one another; after all, the best sort of friendship is one that's formed by mutual hatred!

► This log covers December 15th-December 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 get too caught up in your feelings and start a fight only to see that the person who pissed you off was really good at fighting, or if someone blew up the building you were kinda living in, please let us know here!
► As a final note, if you were not sorted and you would like to be, then please let us know in response to this post!

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[Same here. Hadriel taught them that LV 20 was pointless here, that their strength needed to be more than just that. To protect those who they deeply cared for was going to take more than dusty hands.

And some of these things they learned from the Monster who had killed them over and over and in turn Chara had killed. They had murdered his brother, taunted him over and over about it and gave him every right to hate the demon before him. And hey, it may still linger. There was another human saying about time healing all wounds. Chara didn't put stalk in that for many reasons and they doubted that time would heal any of the things they had done to Sans.

* But maybe, with what little power you have left...
* You can break out of this pointless circle.]

Then here's to the future, correct?

[Chara tosses the water balloon. Green and Yellow.]

[He spreads his arms in a parody of the shrug that prefaced their fatal strike, and lets them douse him thoroughly. The green and yellow washes over the drying purple. Stains his jacket, washes up over his bones.

And hey, look at that.

They match more than usual.]

And here I was thinkin' that was a myth.

[How long's it been since he's given any thought to a future that's more than just the next day, and the next? For a long, long time, even the idea of there bein' a next day was somethin' beyond him, beyond even idle contemplation.]

[It splatters in a way that's satisfying but not quite the same way that seeing him split open was. Learning to let go of that golden hallway was hard, but little by little they'll climb that mountain too.]

There are various rumors about the elusive future, most thought to be conspiracy theories started on the web. But we may as well look into them for science.

[Chara doesn't have a future back in their world. But here may as well be somewhere to try.]

Ah, yes. The elusive "future life" cryptid, seldom seen by anyone. A real rarity, right up there with "hope for said future" and "a life free of existential exhaustion."

[Uh. Maybe too on the nose? Too on the nasal cavity. Yeah. Just a bit.

But then, morbid humor has always been the bread and butter of conversations with Chara. Call it somethin' else they've in common.]

"So you're saying we get some of them on our side, maybe they help us with the others?" Natasha sums the suggestion as she sees it up thoughtfully, giving it a moment.

Then she sets aside her mug with an audible click.

"You know, it's not a terrible idea. Don't know that it will work in the short term, but as long game tactics go, could be worse."

For fuck's sake, I'm not- Ganseying you.

[He retorts, incredulous. They've never been like that- Ronan understands Adam's need to not be owned, even if he's never felt the same way. He'd never presume to have power over the other boy, and even though Adam can be insecure about Ronan's intentions from time to time, he'd have thought that Adam just knew that as a core fact.

The fact that he doesn't- or can't right now, with whatever's going on- grates at him, and Ronan seethes with it. He just wants to take care of him and make sure that he's alright, and now there's this, and the fighting, and Adam just not getting it.

(And even now, even though Ronan was the one to invoke his name, the mention of Gansey hurts, the loss of him, how much he wants him back- it's not like he's not happy with Adam, but he misses their friend and it hurts, and the hurt drives him deeper into anger.)]

This relationship works because we're not fucking two. You're acting like a child, just... [He shakes his head with a fast, angry exhale.] -come the fuck on.

"I know too well what we are capable of doing in anger and madness - for does not one inspire the other?" Celebrimbor keeps himself speaking, reminding himself that his father needs him; that is enough incentive. No god can move his mind or his heart from such a task.

"I am stubborn only." and when he loves, he loves fiercely. Unendingly. "I believe you are better and stronger than any emotion save love, Atto. Let love guide you and ignore the rest." he turns and his silver eyes have a faint spark of warmth in them.

"You help me stay strong." he slips under the trees and comes at last to a pause in the shade. Turning, he embraces Curufin tightly, sighing in relief.

"Sauron. Thauron. The Deceiver!" Celebrimbor spat the words and brought the tip of his sword to Hux's throat, "I suggest you leave me before I slice your throat!"

In the manner he wished to do to Sauron. Repeatedly. And slow.

Many say that you can find it out in the woods, but those are often people who have shaky hands and poor cameras.

[Morbid humor has been Chara's favorite thing, even if they didn't get into making jokes up on the Surface much. Nobody found them funny. But that was then.

And it's funnier now, even if it's turning into a Bigfoot joke.]

In the woods, huh?

[Yeah, there's a couple of things in the woods, sure. A silhouette of a guy who cuts an intimidating figure up until the moment you shake his hand. A camera or two stashed in the bushes.]

Well, whaddaya know? Maybe we'll catch a favored glimpse one of these days.

[Yes, there are. A figure who scared them both until he ruined his 'intimidating appearance' via a hidden whoopie cushion. Surprise cameras hidden in the bushes.

"It's a beautiful day outside."]

Perhaps so. I will be sure to find a proper camera when that time comes.

[Who can tell what the weather's like, underground? But hey. It's just a figure of speech.]

Ask Alphys to fix one up for ya, maybe. She's good at that.

Is it the animals? Are they keeping you awake?

[Because surely they're to blame, along with taking up valuable resources in the cave, or being a danger when it comes to the larger and more vicious ones. Jack holds his arm out, trusting Adam to clean and bandage the wounds, and probably doing a better job of it than Jack would. Taking care of himself isn't always something that he's good at.]

I can stand guard if you want to rest for awhile. I swear I won't let them come anywhere near.

As soon as Celebrimbor brought his sword up, Hux brought his blaster up.

"I would lower your antique weapon if I were you. Blasters are very precise." Except, they weren't but he wouldn't expect anyone who wielded a sword to understand.

"Really? The Deceiver? What was he like then?"

Curufin sips his drink and listens intently, nodding slightly, tilting his head a little as Yukari describes how he began his quest.

"I'm afraid we're in agreement on that!" he murmurs, when Yukari has come to the end of his explanation. "Harmony is boring. At least, too much of it is boring."

"Thus, you left your first king and went to seek beauty, that which reveals the passion in people's souls. And you went to battle for your second king, in search of beauty in conflict."

He grinned over his drink. His dark eyes glinted with humor. "And will you test my limits, to determine whether I have beauty in my soul? And if so, by which of those methods?"

"Yes, I'm well satisfied. You not only have a fascinating quest to keep you busy and your life exciting until you die, but you are wonderfully articulate about it. I like that."

Curufin listens raptly. He does need Celebrimbor, and he no longer feels that he has to be the older and wiser one. Sometimes when his son speaks, he feels that he is in the presence of what his mortal friends might call an old soul: one who is inexplicably knowledgeable and sensitive to the nuances of love and connection with others, and with the earth itself.

He smiles a little when Celebrimbor gives him guidance. He does not think him presumptuous, and he is keenly aware of the love and concern that inspires his son's words. For his father, it is enough that Celebrimbor keeps on speaking, that he continues to articulate his understanding of the family temperament and of the nature of his own being -- and that he grows in confidence, as a result of this speaking and understanding.

"Did I ever tell you that in the last hour of my life, I rejected the Oath? Lúthien's son lay dead, and I was mortally wounded. I could have spent my last moments stripping poor Dior of his armor and searching him for the Silmaril -- at the time, I was pretty sure he was wearing it around his neck or had it stashed in a tunic pocket. But I didn't. Instead I crawled to where Celegorm lay dying and Caranthir was sprawled, dead, and I laid myself down beside them. I took their hands in mine, and I abandoned hatred. I chose love."

And he gazes into his son's beautiful silver eyes, and he sees the stubbornness and fierceness of Celebrimbor's love. And he knows, clearly, in what way they are akin, and how much so.

Under the trees at last, he can see why Celebrimbor wanted to come here. The dark green shadows of the living grove obscure the sight of the many-windowed buildings, partly because they obstruct it, and partly because the vibrant living energy of the trunks and branches and leaves cools what is left of his rage, soothes it as water soothes a thirsty throat.

"I hope so," he replies, softly, to his son's assertion that Curufin helps him stay strong. "I want to be of help to you. It is my joy and my consolation, if that can happen."

And he responds to that embrace, wrapping his arms around his son's shoulders in tenderness.

[He nods slowly. Away from the bigger buildings, his head is clear, and he's aware of what's wrong.]

I... can't stand buildings with more than three windows.

[His face is tight in a frown. Yeah, he knows how ridiculous it sounds.]

I was... looking for explosives when my head cleared.

It's impressive at how well Curufin grasps onto the information. He's not sure too many would agree and understand as well as he has today. Not that he's ever needed other people's approval. But it is something along the lines of pleasing when someone acknowledges everything he's been through and sought for with understanding rather than disgust. Yukari can't help but smile at the question.

"Now, now, Curufin-chan, it is never polite to ask a gentleman his secrets. Besides, isn't it more interesting if you don't know how or if I'll analyse you? Or are you asking for me to analyse you?" He chuckles as he reaches over to pat Curufin's shoulder. "Curufin-chan, you might just be a glutton for punishment."

He finishes his drink, setting his glass delicately back on the table. He contemplates for a moment, whether he should bring up going to retrieve those explosives or just continuing to stay in the bar, in the probability of enduring more questions about himself. A relaxing drink with good company like this does not happen very often at all. He supposes he can always bring up the explosives if he gets too uncomfortable talking about himself. Why not enjoy a slow moment like this?

"Articulation is a great aspect of beauty. Certainly, I would be nothing less." His compliment-acceptance skills might just be a little low. He's used to being mocked to some degree for his behaviours and just shrugging off the mockery. "You're articulate, too, you know.'

That's oddly specific. [And worrying, considering that Barnes is more than capable of blowing up a building if it offends him.]

And more than a little trouble.

[Natasha rubs between her brows briefly, sighing.]

But you're okay now? As long as you're not around the buildings that piss you off?

"Souls, yes. We Elves are very conscious of having them." He gives a snort of laughter. "Especially those of us who have had our souls unhoused, as we say. Experienced death, that is."

And Curufin can relate to the idea of using power accidentally, and not noticing until a physical sensation draws it to his attention. Disconcerting experience!

"Why? -- doesn't anybody else in Hadriel ever think about such things? Tell me about souls. What is your understanding of them?"

Elves, huh? So he ain't human, but Sans has long since stopped puttin' stock in appearance as an evaluation of one's species or character. He's four feet of bones and bad puns - who's he to judge, huh?

"Some people don't come from worlds where they talk about those kinds of things," says Sans, easily. He shrugs, seemingly perfectly unconcerned about the notion. He's had months to get used to it.

Unhoused, though. That's sure a word for it.

"You, uh, experienced death, then?"

A day, at least. [He sounds very proud about this admission.] Though, of course, I'm hoping to make it for much longer. My cause is a worthy one, and one which I will see through.

Y'know that can kill ya. Not sleepin'.

[Sans drawls the words out like the obvious admissions they are, and he continues to regard kain as though he's said something profoundly stupid - which, uh, he kinda has.]

Did she have a good reason?

Well, no. Not if you asked any sane person. But Rey isn't particularly sane right now. Especially not when the mere sight of someone catching a few z's in her presence sends her into such a blind rage that all she can see is red.

And then she sees Maketh. On the floor. Rather than asking her if she's all right, Rey just looms over the woman, hands folded over her chest and a fire in her eyes.

"You mean like how you need a good reason to get some rack time like a useless flump with nothing better to do?"

Maketh rights herself with a snarled curse, straining vainly to smooth out any wrinkles in her uniform. It's in a horrible disarray, not at all presentable for inspection. "What--? I have been on duty for--for over twenty hours!"

Much as she'd like it, humans can't go that long without sleep.

Maketh lifts her chin, eyes narrowed tight. Her brain is still fuzzy. Not everything is making sense. "What do you want, Rey?"

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Event Log: Why Do You Have To Be Mad?

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so late i'm sorry

no worries!