hadriel_logs | Event Post: Everyone Chill

Entry tags:

Event Post: Everyone Chill

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for Tranquility's resurrection event!
Where: All around the city
When: December 27th-January 7th
Warnings: Absolutely nothing creepy or weird at all.

The revival of Tranquility on December 27th marks a vast - if temporary, and actually completely fake - change to the city. Upon awakening that morning, the inhabitants of Hadriel will find the city changed from its usual broken-down dour cave self into a sparkling, clean, delightful island city. Instead of being surrounded by hard stone walls, the city is surrounded by warm ocean waters and soft white sand beaches.

Gentle waves lap at the shore, the sky overhead is perfect, wide and open. The spires have been replaced by shining skyscrapers, the roads are clear of rubble and paved neatly. The stores are quaint, windows no longer broken, and the items inside have changed too. Instead of simple canned goods and strange clothing, you might find delicate pastries, cool drinks, fresh fruit, and flowy summer clothes to match the city. How nice! How calming, really. Didn't everyone need a vacation? So throw on some flip-flops, grab one of the mopeds that have been provided, and enjoy yourselves!

As the days go on, though, you might notice one or two odd things. Maybe the pretty sun hat you picked up looked, for just a moment, like a grubby old baseball cap instead. Maybe that beach ball is a little heavier than it should be. Maybe the shining wall of that skyscraper feels more like stone than glass. Maybe - just for an instant - the sky above was solid rock instead of the gentle, calming hues of the sunset.

While there is a mild compulsion toward calmness and tranquility, towards accepting the city for exactly what it seems to be, that can be ignored - and the illusion can be broken, if you choose to try. But do you really want to? Isn't that croissant much nicer than yet another can of beans? Wouldn't you rather relax at the beach than run around, trying to convince all your friends that this is just the gods getting inside their heads again in an even more creepy and all-encompassing way than usual?

Come on. Don't be a buzzkill.

► This log covers December 27th-January 7th.
► 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 chill out so much you end up dead, please let us know here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

i. I'll take the road that brings me home

[It's too good to be true. Frisk is almost certain that it isn't true- that it's a ruse, a trick, something to catch them off-guard, before it's ripped away forever- they just choose to ignore that.

Because the sun, the sun, real or not, soaks into their sweater and leaves them warm, almost too much so, and they have to stand there and look at it as their eyes water against the harsh glare, and the air is so, so sweet, and they've never been to the beach, never seen it beyond pictures on the television and old, old movies, but it's wonderful. They could spend forever there.

And so that's where they can be found, for the duration of the first few days. Exploring the shore, making sandcastles and collecting seashells. Following a little crab across the sand with the smallest of smiles on their face, racing towards the ocean- then racing back, before the waves can catch their feet.

It's a really good time.]

ii. Back safe eventually

There's very few things necessary for true contentment. Good company is optional, and nice when it happens- but still optional. So are laughs, when you get right down to it. But food? Food is the number one necessity.

The stores by the shore are full of all sorts of things; many of which Frisk is actually capable of recognizing. Sweets, fruits and vegetables, fresh meat and poultry; steering a shopping cart through the streets, it's obvious that Frisk has felt no hesitation in helping themself. Most of what they've collected isn't going to last very long, but that just means their roommates can enjoy a feast for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Every so often, the child takes a break in pushing their load, fingers sneaking into a plastic bag to pop a grape into their mouth.

There might not be any left by the time they get back to their apartment. That's okay.

They'll just get more.

[And they always end up here, don't they? Watchin' one another, cautious and both unwilling to take the first step. For a long while, Sans simply watches without interfering. There's something about seeing 'em be a kid that's -

Well, that's the thing. They're a kid. They make sandcastles. They play tag with the ocean waves.

And who's he to ruin that, huh?

But ruin it he does, inevitably. It's what he's best at. He plucks up a sand dollar from the sand, sleek and shining from the water, unknowing in its delicate rarity. It's sound and whole, alarmingly so. He brushes a few granules of wet sand from its surface with the soft rasp of bone.

It ain't much of anything. A peace offering, maybe. It ain't even real, and that fits nice and neat into the state of things between 'em, don't it?

But he offers it out to them, wordlessly. It's pretty.]

[By the time they seek to bring their collection home, Frisk will understand they're fake. The seashells are too heavy for their size; and when Frisk holds a perfectly shaped conch to their ear, they can't hear the sea, like the movies told them they should. Still, they look very pretty, and even once they don't, they'll remain on Frisk's windowsill for a very long time.

The crunch of sand under tatty slippers lets them know they're not alone. Straightening, they watch Sans with a steady gaze, blinking slowly as he crouches, picks up a shell. Offers it with the sort of care used when they'd gotten into hotland for the first time; too cautious, a little slow to react, a little timid with their choices.

Maybe he thinks they'll bite him.]

...Thanks!

[Turns out, his ACTion was one of the better ones. Frisk doesn't offer much of a smile, but they're happy enough to accept his gift, placing it down with what they've already gathered- intent on arranging them by size. Or perhaps shape. Colour?

An arrangement of some kind. It seems to make them happy, whatever it is.]

[They smile and accept the offering. Maybe it's a decent enough peace offering. Who can tell, right? Feels too much like he's just makin' peace offerings after screwing things up yet again, and he's gotta wonder if they'll just up and forgive him every time, 'cause that's simply what they do.

He ain't sure he deserves their forgiveness.

He settles down across the sand with a bump, sitting with his hands braced behind him a fair distance away. Not so close that it seems like he's watching 'em, but not so far that they'll have to shout to be heard.]

You ever do that thing where you bury someone in the sand, all except for their head?

[If he thought that was a great peace offering, it's nothing in comparison to offering a child the chance to bury him alive. Frisk stares outright, hands frozen a few inches above their shells, wind picking up, blowing hair into their eyes. And that's what breaks the spell, apparently, shuffling across the sand on their knees, tucking errant locks back behind their ears.]

Never been to the beach before.

[So they've got that in common, right? They inch a little closer, pausing with an arm outstretched- never close enough to touch. Watching carefully, for even the slightest sign he's uncomfortable.

He hasn't touched them at all since they killed Chara. They can respect that.]

Can I?

[They feel they gotta ask. He'd get it more comin' from Chara - Chara don't seem to like touch very much at all, and it ain't like he helped 'em any, pullin' the rug out from under their feet with all those dirty little tricks of his.

He holds out a hand, bit bonier than your average appendage but a living thing nonetheless, and closes the distance. Slow, careful, not wantin' to shock 'em.]

Neither've I. I've seen it in Alphys's cartoons, though. There's always a beach episode. Looks like a lotta fun.

[Plus, the subject of the sand-burying don't even have to do anything. That's pretty much a winner in his book.]

[They take his hand, use it as a prop to keep upright while they shuffle past that last bit of distance. This- this is going to take a little effort on their part; and that's fine, because effort is enjoyable in it's own right, too.

Two small hands turn into small shovels as they start at his knees, scooping predominantly dry sand over bone.]

Never got to watch them.

[The ones Alphys wanted to watch, at least. They did see some tv.]

When it gets really late, all the cartoon channels stop showing cartoons, and sometimes they tell you about holidays. They always cost a lot.

[He settles down against the sand, face-up and hands folded over his (inexplicable) stomach, and lets 'em get to work. This might be the most he's heard 'em say in a long while.

It's nice. He lets 'em speak before chiming in.]

Alphys would probably love an anime-buddy down here. She's gotta whole mess of stuff on her computer. Can't make any promises as to quality, though.

[He winks. He's got nothing against Mew Mew Kissy Cutie personally, but opinions may vary.]

Not as bad as Kissy Cutie 2, though.

[They've heard the tales; neither kissy, nor cutie. Just trash. Alphys can't possibly do any worse than that.

Sans seems pretty happy letting them do as they will. Very quickly, his legs become a mound of white- not dust. Very not dust, piling up and spreading down to his ankles. Politely, Frisk pulls his slippers off, setting them to the side with a gentle pat, rather than adding to the stress they've already clearly been through. They hope Papyrus is helping him clean up, every so often.]

Do you watch anime with her?

[Sans chuckles.]

Heh. Yep. Not as bad as the sequel.

[She'll rant about it for hours, and it's hilarious. He's thinkin' maybe he should see if he can score some favor with Rage to get an episode or two of that, just to see how she'd react to it.

The sand's nice, though, even if it ain't real. Warm, and it gives him an excuse to lounge about. Can't get up, see?]

From time to time. When I'm not replacing it with nature documentaries.

[Kind of makes you wonder what's actually being piled on him, outside of the illusion.

Perhaps some things are better left unknown.

Burying someone, as it turns out, is a lot of work. Easy enough to cover his legs; harder to be satisfied with the depth. Without some tools to make it easier, Frisk does it the hard way; digging down, pausing in surprise when the deeper they get, the wetter the sand appears to be. Huh...

They don't show you things like that in holiday commercials.]

You like documentaries?

[A question with no need of an answer; sounds like they approve.]

Me too.

Yeah, they're all right. I was playin' a prank that go around, but yeah, they're nice. You get to learn somethin', and they always get a guy with a nice voice to talk about all the plants and things.

[They're more, uh, factually accurate than Alphys's cartoons are liable to be, but they don't have quite the same zing. A robot running to school with toast in its mouth has a charm that you just can't achieve by watching colorful birds hop from branch to branch, interrupting the kindly nature expert with their whoo-hoo-ing.

That sand's gonna start feelin' cold, he knows it. If he focuses hard enough, the grit between his bones don't quite feel real. Which is nice in its own way; that's a real pain to get outta your joints.

Maybe it's dust. But he don't say it.]

[They know that voice. Don't know the name- but what kid wouldn't know that voice? He always sounded so very nice; like he was talking right at them, not just into the air, to be recorded for later use.

Frisk hopes he never winds up in Hadriel. He'd probably want to tell them all about the monsters, and then he'd get eaten. Or worse. Anime will do for now.

A soft grin of acknowledgement, and for a time, the waves is the only sound to accompany them both. The air is warm, but the sea breeze keeps the sun from being smoldering, sleeves pushed up to their elbows as Frisk gives all their attention to the task at hand.

Frisk looks fairly happy, at least. The slightest quirk to their lips, soft creases at the corners of their eyes. Maybe they're just happy.]

[He don't know the minutiae of what it is, bein' human and all, but he knows well enough how fragile they can be. He lets Frisk set about and dwells in silence for a time, until somethin' draws the eyesocket.

He don't call attention to it right away. He keeps his sockets lidded at half-mast, contentedly drinking in the nonexistent sunshine, not thinkin' too hard about the illusion of warmth against his bones.]

You get in a scrape sometime, kiddo?

[He ain't real sure what could leave that kinda mark - circular, crescent-like, but he's more than a hair concerned.]

Mn? [A questioning noise in turn, pulling back from their work for a moment to focus on his eye sockets- take in the smaller whites inside, and where, precisely, they're aiming towards.

The most obvious one is still pink. Not really sore, though it likes to pretend it is sometimes. They do fade, they do; it just takes a long time. And the white blemishes left behind don't disappear at all.

Even so, Frisk is calm enough. Shrugs, keeps building up the sand on either side of his rib cage, doesn't twist or shy away.]

Accident.

Yeah?

[They fend off the query very easily. One word, simple enough. Accident. To challenge that would seem like, what, like he don't believe 'em?]

Guess you'll wanna be careful. I'm not real sure how humans work all the way, but you probably wanna keep that...clean, or something.

[That's, uh.

Well. It's an idea. Carlisle's got that glyph deal that they're still figurin', and if he can get him to agree to teach him right proper, there might be a reason to -

Finally get things to come together.

It's an idea.]

It's just a scar.

[Wouldn't even have it if they didn't get in the way. It doesn't hurt anymore, see? They poke at it just to prove it, pursing their lips and thinking it over. They've never seen under Undyne's eye patch, so they don't really know- do monsters scar?

He'll ask if he doesn't understand, surely.]

[...right. That'd be a thing humans get too. Along with people who have, uh, skin and stuff like that. And HP to spare.

It's a segue, though. He won't push things just now. He's learned what happens when he tries to force 'em to say something they don't wanna get into.]

Guess it just reminds me. I'm not, uh, real handy, most times. Most I can do is be a free shortcut expressway.

[Not that it don't suit him real fine. But that ain't the point here.]

So I've been thinkin' - I'm not so great with that useful sorta magic. Green magic, defensive stuff, healing stuff. But I might'a gotten to know a guy willing to teach people a thing or two about it.

That's pretty handy.

[Really. It's more than they can do, so if he's looking to preach to the choir about being useless, he's probably chosen the wrong crowd.

Sounds like he really is trying. Frisk sits back, regarding him calmly.]

You should do it.

[Because. It'll be useful. Because, maybe, if he does something like that, he'll feel better about things.

Sounds really nice.]

I'm givin' it my best shot.

[Not pickin' up on the hint, huh? That's okay. Might be they just don't wanna entertain the idea that he could be offering something for them. Frisk thinks about a lotta people, but Frisk don't ever really take the time to think about Frisk.

Time to move things from subtext to text.]

You interested?

[Or perhaps it simply didn't twig to them, to consider that a human could do those things. Their eyes open, lips parting into the smallest of "oh"s as he- well he's saying-]

I could?

[Is he joking with them? Maybe he's just pulling a prank, to get back at them for snapping the last time they spoke.]

Don't see why not. Might take a bit of convincing to get Carlisle to teach the both of us but...

[Well, he wore Carlisle down pretty quick, and that's all he needed. No reason he can't do the same for Frisk.

Might be helpful to have somethin' they feel like they can do. Somethin' they can use to channel themself, maybe so they can feel like they're doin' real good.]

I'll put in a few good words for ya. Or, heck, you could just come along next time I chat with him.

[He'll put in a good word for them.

Sans really has them pegged, doesn't he? In contrast to other occasions in which Frisk has shown signs of- something, they don't close up right away. Don't return to the default as they let the surprise sink in, the idea. They could do magic. Really, really helpful magic.

And Sans is going to put in a good word for them, so they can learn.]

...Yes please. [Breathed out. Still half expecting this to turn around at any moment, but oh, if it doesn't. If this is something they could actually do.]

I want- I can come.

[They can do good. And unlike everything else, it isn't-

The other Frisk's. They never mentioned anything like this, did they?]

[Cripes, do they just...not expect anything from anyone, ever? Actually, that might not even be far off - it seems more and more to him like they've only ever been told they can't have a single thing for themself. When someone else thinks of them, they find a way to divert that attention elsewhere.

This is gonna be one thing he's saying, thinking, considering - purely for Frisk's sake.

He ain't a real overt guy by nature. But he keeps his tone rumbling and sincere, and hope that this time his smile don't feel much like some kinda unintended, ironic slant.]

I'll keep ya posted, then. Let ya know when it goes down.

[From timeline to timeline, they think they've come to know Sans...at least a little. He smiles all the time, but he doesn't smile. The differences in his expressions are small, but they are there. They know enough to understand the more negative looks he's thrown their way.

They know this isn't a negative look. So maybe he really means it.]

Thank you.

[They don't have to consciously think of being sincere; they're a child. Big emotions, like gratitude, and a genuine sense of happiness- they write themselves onto Frisk's face easily enough, and for once (perhaps even for the first time since they fell) it's not shadowed by a sense of stress or consciously ignored pain.

Really. Thank you.]

Event Post: Everyone Chill

Frisk | ota

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