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

Entry tags:

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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[Firo'd expected Shadow to attack him right back, not do... whatever this is. He listens quietly; first his face is taut, but it soon slackens into surprise.]

What?

[He closes his eyes and muses over what Shadow's saying. There's one important thing that seems to jump out at him...]

...So you're admitting we're friends, is that it?

"Thanks for the thought."

She means that, too.

After a moment, her eyes shift, before returning to Firo. "Well, um. Would ask if you want to come in, but you want to kill my fish, so..."

Yeahhh. Awkward.

His senses felt strained, prepared for danger at the drop of a hat. At night it was worse and he felt ridiculous. In order to not disturb his father and uncle, Celebrimbor would slip from his window and take a walk to clear his mind of memories that made his stomach twist and his chest tighten. By dawn, he would climb back into his room and ready himself for the day.

He saw little rest as a result, though he hid it well. Usually. However in the safety of his father's arms, Celebrimbor was feeling his eyelids droop. Curufin's chuckle woke him from his reverie and he grinned:

"Have you spoken much with Uncle? I believe he has not lost his kindness; he is only...wary. I heard of some of the ill that befell him and he could use his brother." he blushed and pulled back, his arms remaining wrapped around Curufin's shoulders, "Nothing could change my love. I prayed to Eru - to King Manwë and the Lady Varda - to return you to me so that I could show you a quieter life and help you heal."

He leaned into the hand, frowning faintly. "I cannot imagine how difficult it was for you to break the Oath." and he respected that victory; that strength, "You did not learn to love, Atar. You have always known how to love - you only forgot!" he pressed his lips to Curufin's forehead and gently tugged on his hand, leading him to the home they shared with Maedhros.

Curufin knew his son did not sleep well, and sometimes left the house to walk in the cool night. Curufin himself was a light sleeper -- when he slept at all. But usually if he was awake, he was working on some project or other. Nightmares? Intrusive thoughts? -- yes, but his way of dealing with the darkness that was an accustomed part of himself was to get up and do something useful. But he didn't fault Celebrimbor for whatever means his son used to deal with his memories and his physical pain. Cel was the only one who could decide what was going to get him through the night; he was the sole authority on it.

And here, he held his son in the quiet of the orchard and offered what comfort he could. It was sweet to know that his son felt so safe that he could almost fall asleep. But Cel woke himself up and spoke again. Curufin answered, "Some, but not as much as I'd like. He is a bit wary. But you are absolutely right, he has not lost his kindness, and he loves his family with a surpassing love. What you heard is true. There are things that the two of you can understand more deeply than I can, though I try. Your experiences may be similar enough." He speaks very gently. He doesn't bring up this topic, normally, leaving it to Celebrimbor to decide what he does or does not want to share. Cel has touched on it, speaking of Maedhros, but Curufin does not expect him to continue.

"That is so like you, Cel. . . to pray to our gods to help you find a way to help your family. And you do help us! Even in this strange city, I feel at peace when we are together in our house. And I feel at peace just thinking of you being here, even when I am not with you."

He felt the tenderness well up from his soul as Cel leaned into his father's hand as it stroked the dark, soft hair. "It was difficult. I wonder, sometimes, at the cruelty inherent in creation, that such a force is let loose by a few words. Words have such power in the world we come from."

"Well, maybe there is good in that, as well as evil. When you speak to me of the love you still have faith in, my love for you, your words have a power that is wholly for good. Thank you, my son, for believing in me."

And he smiled and embraced Cel once more when his son kissed his forehead. What a blessing! And he allowed him to take his hand and lead him home.

It had not occurred to him that his family had trouble sleeping too. Celebrimbor could be rather short-sighted when it came to his own troubles; he considered them burdens that others did not deserve. He, on the other hand, deserved them in full - or so he thought. If he happened to spy Curufin fighting his own demons in the Darkness, he might understand better that, even in his nightmares, he was not alone.

For the time being, he relaxed against his father, nearly slumbering in the peaceful lull of the forest. Courtesy awoke him more than anything else and his cheeks flushed. The color swiftly fled at Curufin's insight and he turned his head away, breathing a little quicker.

"I have not...spoken in-depth of... His experience was surely worse than mine." for Maedhros was mightier than him so it followed that it took far more to break him; to scar him. Yet Celebrimbor had experienced Sauron's full sadistic attention. The Maia had seduced him - so much so that his stomach curled in humiliation even now. Sauron had turned him away from his wife and child and then...

Once the rings were complete...

He had been chained and humiliated further. His body had been ripped and torn, beaten and broken; he had been made to watch the murder of his wife and child...

Celebrimbor whimpered and grabbed blindly for the comfort that he had found amongst Curufin and Maedhros.

"There is...always hope." his voice was thin and he took a steadying breath, "I know you, Atto; I know your heart as well as my own. If I can have a brighter future, so can you." he sealed his words with a kiss to Curufin's forehead. Then he led the way to their home and away from the demolished buildings.

[He's admitting it? He's admitting it! Firo could jump for joy, but instead he just beams at Shadow.

But something's wrong, which isn't all that unusual in this place. His smile tightens into a grimace, but at least he can hold himself back. Mostly.]

...It's weird, I still feel like I wanna wring your neck for some reason. This place must be getting to me somehow.

[Eh, whatever. So long as he can actually hold himself back, it's fine. He smiles even more brightly.]

Thanks, Shadow.

Firo clenches both fists just at the mention of that little bastard. Before his blood pressure can shoot up enough to make his head explode, he sighs and nods his head.

"Point taken. I guess I'll have to see you some other time."

The gods... That'd explain a lot.

[He clucks his tongue in disgust--both at the gods and at himself.

He forces himself to stand up straight and look Shadow in the eyes again.]

I do need to thank you. And to apologize too--I should have more self control than that.

[He is a capo, after all. And Shadow is his friend. Gods or not, he should never allow himself to get to the point where he's weak enough to be influenced this way.]

[ In later weeks, Sharon will look back at this memory fondly, despite the headache it's giving her now—or is that just the lack of sleep? She watches with eyes half-lidded as he mimics her. That doesn't look exactly right but does it really matter? ]

Good. Now that you've got that you start adding, fuck, uh... [ She gestures vaguely to the blade, frustrated that she can't find the right words. ] ...what you see. The way the handle shadows the blade, the shadow the blade leaves on the table. Depth is... important but art is kind of... [ She flips through the pages of her sketchbook, showing him a variety of things she's drawn from the strange creatures to detailed (albeit nightmarish) art to even soft portraits of familiar faces (Mello, Cecily, Kate, and even a grumpy faced version of himself) to flat all-seeing eyes and doodles that don't turn into anything at all. ] You learn by just doing it, I guess. Sometimes, it's what you see, other times it's what you don't. It can be splashes of color on a blank piece of paper.

It's whatever inspires you. [ For the most part, it's obvious where her inspiration comes from: her dark experiences, her nightmares, and then, oddly enough, the important people in her life. Ah, fuck, she went on a tangent. She flips back to the page with the blade, adding details, and shadows. Maybe he'll see what she means if she shows him. ]

Shadow can thank Ushahin's adopted family for his unusual outlook on furry creatures that walk on two legs. He'd never seen the Were as being animals and therefore could never see Shadow as being anything other than what he was, even if he was a hedgehog.

He stamps a foot on the ground, furious that Shadow won't let him deal with the bird. "I am fine. There's nothing wrong with me." Nothing that he will notice until this strange spell of anger has passed. Then he will feel quite ashamed of his behavior. Fetch certainly isn't going to let him forget it, not for a good, long while. Ravens are like elephants: they never forget.

Fetch doesn't need to be told twice. He's a very intelligent bird. He takes off, winging his way as far across the city as he can go. He'll be hiding from his friend for a good long while. Ushahin has broken his trust and he'll need to regain it. The half-man glares at his friend. "Shadow! Why would you do that? I'm never going to be able to recapture him now."

That thought gives Ushahin pause and the anger in his mind begins to clear as the bird begins to fly off into the distance. "If they have been manipulating my mind, they are going to find out what it truly means to see me angry."

Basically, yeah. [ She checks on his every drawing now and again, smiling a little as it begins to look more and more complete. ]

You're not doing too bad.

Ushahin huffs and folds his arms across his chest, indignant at the thought of being mentally manipulated. Despite how often he does it to other people, he hates when it is done to himself. He's also aware of how hypocritical that makes him.

"I prefer it when they give us physical challenges to overcome." The zombies and dragons hadn't been so bad now, had they?

Much as Rey appreciates Firo's company, this is one of those rare exceptions that sounds like a bad time. Everyone's been acting weird lately.

Of course, not Rey. Rey's anger is perfectly rational. Because fuck sleep. That isn't too weird.

"Some other time, yes. That'd probably be best." She pauses. "So, um. See you around."

She goes to close the window, and considers repositioning Wellingham's place near any windows for the time being.

"When it comes to the physical realm, I know exactly where I stand, and how to keep safe. As I know very well already, in the mental one, anything is possible."

How was he supposed to keep what little sanity he had if he wasn't sure what was going on? If the gods were in his head, they could make him do anything. He could end up hurting his friends gravely with his powers without even realizing it. Knowing there was a challenge like the monsters in the cave made it far easier to bear.

"Drink?" A bemused expression crossed his face. He wondered where that question had come from. "Not often. Psychics and alcohol don't often make for a good combination."

[Firo grits his teeth even as he tries to smile.]

...It's like you try to be as much of a bastard as possible.

Yeah. I'll see you around.

[He turns around with a wave.]

It was fortunate that Wade had the presence of mind to tuck his chin into his chest at the last second; to loosen his body enough to roll into the suplex, or else he probably would have broken his neck. Not that a broken neck would have slowed him down all that much, but it would've definitely put a damper on this convenience store rumble going on right now.

Gren gets to his feet and Wade remains there, stunned, struggling to get his breath back. It's not the force of the suplex that's knocked the wind out of him-- not only the suplex, anyway-- but he's in the throes of some pretty vivid flashbacks right now. He's been thrown onto his back like this before, by someone with a similar hairstyle and a similar attitude and a similar (terrible) taste in fashion. It's only the face that's different, and Wade is troubled by the fact that he can't seem to remember Travis's face that well at all.

He casts his mind back further, searching, momentarily forgetting that he's currently in the midst of a knockdown, drag-out fight with a guy who might have more than a couple of screws loose. Focusing on fading memories seems way more important right now.

Gren's back on his feet and this asshole is... not really moving, actually, for a second there Gren's not quite sure if he's still alive. Did he kill him? Break his neck or some shit? But, no, he's breathing, so that means he must have survived. Gren chalks it up to being winded, because he did just slam that motherfucker down on his head.

Well, this ain't a fucking fair fight, so Gren's not going to wait like a gentleman for Wade to get his ass back up or anything. The guy's not dead yet and Sweater Grandpa said that he has a healing factor, so he should be able to take more of a beating than this. He's just not going to, like, beat him to death or anything, just kinda close to it. (Or, as close to it as Wade can get; technically, if you don't stay dead or injured, it kind of puts a crimp in your merciless beating.)

Wade Wilson's ribs, meet Gren's foot.

[ Sharon catches that hint of a smile despite her exhaustion, though she rolls her eyes at the compliment, cheeks turning a soft pink. She knows better than to think she's a good teacher. ]

Or maybe you just have a natural talent. [ A pause and then, thoughtfully: ] Practice every day. Choose a subject, or imagine one and practice. Keep all your pieces of work so that you can always look back and see how much you've grown as an artist. Don't be afraid to try other styles or to make something your own, to make it unique.

[ He sounds like he might have a big head and she smirks at him lopsidedly. Fine, she can accept it. ]

If you ever need some... tutelage, feel free to text me anytime. Just don't stop by. It's a fucking hassle to have to move when too many people know where I live. [ Granted, she brought attention to herself and her lodgings when she threw her mattress out the window and set it aflame. Damn, she really needs to work on this 'in hiding' thing. ]

[ Sharon looks to him, expression turning stiff. ]

Because the last time I told someone where I lived, they killed me. [ And now she always has this fear that someone is going to come and get her one day. To be honest, she's had that fear since her early teenage years, always moving and hiding and changing names. Mello killing her reminded her that she should always be on the move so that her enemy can never catch her again. ]

[ She shrugs her shoulders. It's not like she holds it against Mello. Her actions had consequences and she knew that. She knew that. ]

He just reminded me that nowhere is safe. A lesson I needed retaught.

He did what he thought was necessary, just as I did what I thought was necessary. [ Sharon can hold a grudge but, in this case, she understands why he did what he did. ] He thought he was protecting someone by killing me.

You can't tell me you didn't consider killing me to stop me, can you?

Don't judge him for what he did when you had the same intentions. [ A little cooly. ] He tried to talk me out of it first. It's not like he showed up at my apartment and shot me. He thought he could convince me to stop.

[ He thought he could end it without bloodshed, at first. Sharon made sure he knew otherwise. ] I had no intention of stopping until I either found a way home or got my vengeance.

He's one of the most important people to me here, Shadow. [ It's not something she thought she'd say out loud to someone. Few people know her relationship status with Mello, fewer still know that their odd friendship has sparked into something more. ] He understands me better than most are capable of.

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Event Log: Why Do You Have To Be Mad?

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