Event Log: Why Do You Have To Be Mad?

[hadrielmods]

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!

Comments

[skelebro]

"It's just how I talk. Not many've got an issue with it." Except Gren, but Gren takes issue with damn near everything and everyone, up to and including himself. With the possible exception of his roommate?

Bottom line, Gren's unpleasantness is universal, no matter who Sans is as a person. Probably.

[so_dark_a_road]

"I don't have an issue with it," said Curufin. "I was just curious."

And he considers the person before him, still curious.

"So, what do you do for fun, Sans? Here in Hadriel, I mean."

[skelebro]

"Sleep, mostly." A decidedly uninteresting answer, but an honest one. Maybe it stands to reason that he's just a pretty uninteresting guy. He sure does his best to be, but is it ever really enough to keep the tough questions off his back?

Nah. Not really.

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin chuckles at that answer. "I suppose there is a point to that! This city doesn't seem very predictable. Who knows when some bizarre event may occur, and when that happens, who knows how long it will be before there is a chance to lie down and sleep? Better to take advantage of the opportunity while it lasts, I guess?"

He can see the tough questions aren't likely to get answered, at the moment, and maybe not ever. So, he takes a different tack.

[skelebro]

Sans has taken question-dodging to a whole new level. Call it a talent of his. The only way people get answers from him is if they snoop around and figure it out some other way. Or if he's feelin' especially charitable, but there's a saying about blue moons and things that he don't feel much like gettin' into.

"Well, at least when people aren't gettin' all on your case for sleepin'." He's had that happen more than once these past few days. What gives?

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin is an Elf of the Noldor clan, and attaining to a high level of skill in craft, science, or the arts is their reason for living. They admire these skills in others, and so Curufin knows he is in the presence of a master of words. Question-dodging is an admirable rhetorical art.

"Some jerk kicked me for napping on the lawn under one of those ugly spires, earlier today." He thinks this is funny.

"Why, has this actually happened to you?"

[skelebro]

"Yep." He don't sound real pleased about it either. "Right outta nowhere. Helluva thing to be pissed at, don't you think?"

Whereas despising windows and a surplus of them, why, that's perfectly normal and reasonable, ain't it? Amazing how that shakes out.

[so_dark_a_road]

"Yes. REALLY very odd. Who could object to sleep? It's not like. . . well, not thoroughly disreputable, like those disgusting WINDOWS. WINDOWS, WINDOWS, EVERYWHERE I LOOK. You would think the jerk in the park might use his soccer kick to smash a little unnecessary glass! But NO."

Curufin shakes his head over the unfathomable unreasonableness of the world.

[skelebro]

"What the hell're windows doin' that are so important?" Sans sounds more than inclined to agree, though even his anger is decidedly as lazy and poorly-motivated as he is. "Lettin' in all the natural sunlight we got 'round here?"

Utterly useless addends to buildings, those windows.

[so_dark_a_road]

"That's a damned good question!" exclaims Curufin. "And I'll tell you the answer! -- they do NOTHING. Nothing but SIT IN THEIR SASHES AND EMBRASURES and look pretty. No, wait. They don't even look pretty. They sit there looking. . . ominous. Glittering in the dim Hadriel-light, as knives glitter, evilly waiting their chance to cut somebody."

Of course he's not thinking of the obvious -- glass can only cut somebody once it's broken, unlike a knife. If he breaks a window or blows up a building, shattering all the glass, then he is in fact giving the windows a chance to do some damage.

But Rage does not take logic into consideration. Rage is anathema to logic.

He turns and glares at all the buildings in sight, near or far.

[skelebro]

"Sashes?" says Sans, dryly, once the man's temper has boiled off somewhat. That sounds more like he's talkin' about the City Guard than any kinda window. And that's raisin' a few questions. Sato wasn't just seizing onto the Rage this little event has helpfully provided him, nah. He was driving a spike into Hadriel's infrastructure, and he chose a damn convenient time to do it.

He ain't about to let someone else think the same, no matter how they might agree on the state of windows.

[so_dark_a_road]

The sudden dryness in Sans' tone puzzles Curufin. He doesn't know anything about Sato or his recent adventures.

"Window sashes. . . you know, the wooden frames the glass sits in. Oh, did you think I meant those cloth sashes people tie around their waists or chests and shoulders to indicate some kind of military organization?"

[skelebro]

"The guards wear sashes," he says, though it's a nice turn of events that Curufin ain't one of Sato's merry band of murderers, or whatever it is he's plannin' on doin' to the Guard HQ. "Windows wear curtains."

Needless to say, anybody who's gotta problem with the Guard has a problem with Papyrus. And anybody who's gotta problem with Papyrus? Well, they might as well have a little problem with Sans.

[so_dark_a_road]

He grins. "Oh, I don't know. I can think of some Elves I've known whose hairstyles might warrant the name of curtains." Curufin is thinking of his cousin Finrod, who was renowned for his fancy headdresses. Curufin's own hair doesn't count, of course! -- a shower of dreads is the fanciest hair he'll ever appear in.

"The guards? You have a functioning military organization here?"

Never mind that he's already seen the building they use for an office. He didn't stop in to ask about it. But now he's curious.

"What are they for? Fighting the monsters in the tunnels? Or do you have warring factions here?"

[skelebro]

"They fight the less friendly variants, yeah. Keep people safe when they can. Maketh and Henry - they're the organizers of the patrols." And his brother happens to be one of 'em. At last he made it to the Guard, and honestly, Sans couldn't be prouder.

Or, uh, he would be if that didn't place Papyrus in the line of fire. Resulted in him havin' to shoot up a line of bones and just

Yeah.

Well, it's a work in progress. He don't let himself dwell on the thought, and he sure as hell don't let it show.

[so_dark_a_road]

"I should join this Guard of yours, then. I have a brother and a son here, and a few friends. I would not like to think of any of them, or of any of the kind people I have spoken to since I came here, in danger from the monstrous creatures I met in the tunnels or the Colosseum."

He thinks about his own offer, for a moment. Fëanorions have the reputation for being. . . well. . .as much wolf as guard dog! But that was in another world, and now is a different time. Besides, Sans doesn't know about any of that.

Of course, blowing up buildings may not be the best item to have on your resumé. . . but, hey, nobody's perfect.

"Do you think they would take me? I have been a warrior all my life and have many skills. Not only fighting skills. I am a weapons smith as well."

[skelebro]

"Sounds like you got quite the resume." Which means the Guard'll probably take him, no problems. Ain't like Sans is one to really put in a good word for someone who ain't his brother, or someone he's just met, but he doubts Curufin'll need the extra nudge. He sounds qualified enough.

"I'd say you ought'a be a little more careful 'bout who you call monsters." Sans taps the side of his skull with a grin. "You're talkin' to yours truly here, after all."

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin smiles. "Sorry. I should know better. A little goat named Azriel explained it to me, when I was here before. What would be the best way to indicate a distinction between the beings who live in the tunnels and beings such as yourself? -- terminology-wise, I mean?"

[skelebro]

"You met Asriel." Can't help but wonder what his first impression of the little fella was. He ain't exactly the most forthcoming monster out there.

"Just don't call 'em monsters, I'd wager. That should clear it up."

[so_dark_a_road]

"Yes, Asriel was the first person to greet me when I was here before. We had quite a long and interesting conversation." (Although it was not in fact the resident Asriel of this place, but one of the other guests who are sometimes sucked into the Door and then spewed out again.)

"Then I should reserve the term monsters for beings such as you and Asriel? It would seem logical to do so, since calling people by their clan or kindred name is a way of showing respect. At least, that is so in my world."

[skelebro]

He inclines his skull faintly in acknowledgment.

"It's a species, more or less." He'da figured that more than one Asriel might be runnin' around at any given time, back when the Door was doing its malfunctioning thing. There was more than one Chara, and more than one Frisk, and sure as hell more than one Sans. More than one Asriel - that ain't such a strange and bizarre thing anymore.

[so_dark_a_road]

"A species, then. Yes, that makes sense. Then my species would be Elf, I suppose. I would not want anyone referring to any dangerous creatures out of the darkness as Elves, and so I suppose you would not want the tunnel-denizens to be called monsters."

[skelebro]

There, y'see? Sans nods and opens a hand. A perfectly reasonable request.

"Anywho. I gotta catch some shut-eye." An atypically hard feat when a handful of people are consistently on your back for it, but he'll just have to mosey off and make sure now one can see him. "This kinda thing's exhausting, y'know."

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin laughs softly. "It's a deal. Shake on it?" He sees the open hand, and he offers his own.

"You go and catch a nap, then. And watch out for those obnoxious people who are waking other people up! I declare, I don't know what has become of manners in this place! -- all this waking of sleepers and swearing at them!" He shakes his head in judgmental dismay.

Not that blowing up buildings is exactly the epitome of politeness, but of course, Curufin thinks that sort of behavior is perfectly normal.

1/3

[skelebro]

Heh. All right, why not? They got so much in common, don't they? A hatred of windows, for one. That's enough to decide that, yeah, he's pretty much worth the effort.

He takes the proffered hand.