hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dead Ringers

Entry tags:

Event Log: Dead Ringers

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Dead Ringers event!
Where: All around the city
When: January 16th-January 25th
Warnings: Evil doubles, so we can assume manipulation, violence, murder, and maybe some nasty words

Everything seems normal on the morning of the 16th - actually, everything seems normal about the city for the entirety of this event. Nothing is strange, nothing is obviously wrong. Well, except that the population has mysteriously doubled, and the new residents each look exactly like one of the old residents. So weird! Definitely not ominous at all.

At least until your new double gets down to business. After all, their only goal is to ruin your life, and that can take any form. Smashing your favorite coffee cup? Telling your worst enemy they're right? Kissing someone else in front of your girlfriend? Brutally murdering you and then hiding your body in a closet so they can more effectively destroy your life? The possibilities are truly endless, and the only way to protect yourself is to kill your double first. They're not really open to negotiation, after all - but they sure might pretend to be in order to trick you.

So watch your back, and try to make sure that really is your best friend and not an evil clone masquerading as them. Boy, that would be awkward. If you can stick it out until January 25th, good for you! But if you didn't manage to and your double survives until the end - well, just as a final 'fuck you', there's a chance you'll come back to life and remember every awful thing your double did. Hey, at least that'll make it easier to fix, right?

► This log covers January 16th-January 25th.
► 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 your evil clone happens to take you out, please let us know here, and remember that you will not revive until the event is over.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Something about that question seems to strike at one of the fresh wounds the alien has been dealt, as his face becomes the very picture of conflict. Normally the alien would be fine with admitting to this, because he would feel assured that his company was of equal importance to the human... but the double's scathing assessment of their living situation and how much it meant to him has cut him deep, makes him scared. "I'm not weak," the alien whines, his mandible tucking against the side of his jaw. "If you want to leave, you can, I--I wasn't trying to trap you here! I just though that it was an arrangement that would help both of us. I'm sorry!"

His voice as been rising steadily as the pain he's feeling pushes the words out of him quicker and quicker, and by the time he utters regrets he's blurted it out, his tone full of anguish. "F-for keeping you here, and for forcing you to come out to that beach, and for coming with you to that party and allowing people see you with a... a thing like me... and for every other failure of mine that you have had to endure in our time together."

Now the alien hangs his head again, his gills quivering slightly before he repeats himself, his voice a gutted whisper this time. "I'm sorry.

Carlisle had expected a much different answer than the barrage of anguish he's met with, but as Glacius starts talking, starting with an affirmation that he's not weak -- who would think that, other than Algidus? -- he can't help that gutting realization that he's said the wrong thing.

"You're not—" he starts, but Glacius keeps going before he can get a word in. "No no no, I never thought that you—" He doesn't get that out in its entirey, either. "You're not a thing, and—"

And then the alien is hanging his head so low that Carlisle can reach him again... and the clergyman does, putting his hand at the side of Glacius' face, leaning forward in spite of the stiffness in his chest to offer his friend that sign of solidarity they so often shared.

"I felt the same," he finally admits. "I thought you would be better with me elsewhere, no longer a burden to you, but"— he stifles another cough, his fingers curling against Glacius' scar, then unleashes a torrent of words of his own— "but I couldn't- couldn't bear the thought of- of that emptiness, and not having you around when you make me feel- feel truly safe for the first time in so long, and" —cough— "and I- I hoped you wouldn't ask me to leave. I... I don't want to leave."

He stops there, both the weight of what he admitted and his own exhaustion hitting him.

"Of course I'm not going to ask you to leave," Glacius responds, tilting his head immediately against Carlise's hand, a more transparent grasping for solace than he's put on display in recent memory. He holds the bloodied human tightly, not only to try and help suppress some of that shaking he can feel so as not to tire his weary body out any further, but to try and further that sense of connection and to convince himself that the clergyman is here, he's not going to leave.

"But.. if you live here with me, then... what about being seen together?" the ice alien asks tentatively, a few of those barbs still lingering in his wounded hearts. "If you don't want to be judged for keeping company with... a creature like me... I don't know how we would get around that if we're sharing a living space. I don't want to drag you down..."

"You are not a creature, Glacius," Carlisle insists, repeating something he's said time and time again. "You are my friend... the closest I've ever had. And I'm- I'm sorry that this shade of myself, this shapeshifter with my form has planted such doubts in you."

Just like the people of Bear Den. He never fully recovered from that day the Inquisitors showed up at his church; for all he knows, he and Glacius may never recover from this one. His heart would like to say they will, but his sense of dread and defeat tells him otherwise.

"I... I am sorry," he tries again, his hands tearing at his eyes to hide his shame. "I truly am."

Glacius stares down at the clergyman, taken aback by the visible sadness in his eyes, the fact that it's on his behalf. He's not sure if he's ever seen a human shed tears for him like this... and this open display of sorrow and concern finally helps him realize something very important: Carlisle's devotion to him hasn't changed. He's still doing whatever it takes to assure his safety and recovery as he has done countless times in the past; before, it was healing his hip back when they barely knew each other, putting himself in harm's way as they faced down a fiery abomination based on his own demons and then helping him deal with the resulting guilt, or dragging himself to the alien's apartment even though his own wounds were still fresh and sore. Now, it's traipsing down a flight of stairs with shears stuck in his back just to warn him, or exerting precious energy just to talk him through things despite the way his body is wracked with agony and exertion.

Shaking himself now as he is reminded of new just how important to him Carlisle is, Glacius lowers his head further, then turns it so that he's nuzzling against the human's palm--both in an attempt to reassure him, and claim reassurance for himself. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Carlisle. You're fixing things, just as you have always done... if anything, I should be apologizing for letting that double mar what we have, I was... I was just so afraid that what he said might have even the slightest bit of truth. I don't know what I would do without your friendship, Carlisle, I... I don't want to ever anything that would... make you feel the way he did."

The ice alien has spent so long assuring others in this cave that he'll always be there for them... he's never stopped to think about how badly he might need to hear that from them for himself.

Despite his watery eyes, Carlisle looks to Glacius as the alien reassures him -- he's always having to reassure him, offering the clergyman more compassion than he feels he deserves.

"I don't think he could have possibly felt anything," he rasps, his breath unsteady. "He was surely a trick of the false gods, meant to destroy us, and nothing more. They don't feel the way we do about anything... about each other."

He runs his hand along Glacius' jaw as he says that, though he can't quite figure out for the life of him exactly what it is he and Glacius do feel. Companionship? Camaraderie? Or something that's harder to name, that becomes more frightening the closer they get?

Edited 2017-01-19 04:38 (UTC)

"I don't want to think about him any more," Glacius rumbles, realizing that answer has not exactly helped to settle any of his nerves. "All I want to be sure of is how you feel. To know that... you don't view me in that way... if you ever did, I-I... don't know what I would do. You're my closest friend too, Carlisle... I don't want to lose you..."

"I feel better than I did, knowing that he didn't- that nothing more than what he did happened to you," Carlisle answers, his eyes falling to his own hands as he finally releases Glacius' face. "I feel safer now that I'm here, with you."

He stifles another cough, feeling a little color return to him, albeit briefly. "But I think mostly, I just feel tired... and grateful." But definitely tired.

Glacius flinches visibly as his bid for reassurance is dodged, and when the ordeals that he's just been through are diminished. He draws his head away from the clergyman's hand, averting his eyes. If all he can provide is that sense of security, then perhaps he should get to it.

"Well... soon you can rest. I just need to see to you, first... how is your wound?"

"Sore," he answers honestly, "but at least it is mended."

He hesitates a moment, wondering how he can assuage Glacius' fears. "You... are welcome to take a look, if you'd like. I'm a bit of a mess as it is."

Understatement of the year, given the blood and ink all over him, the gauntness of his appearance, and the fact he is still trembling, his own body seemingly devoid of warmth.

Edited 2017-01-19 08:14 (UTC)

"Of course I'm going to take a look," Glacius grumbles, his hurt making him sullen. He regards Carlisle for a moment more, wondering if he's actually unaware of his lapse, or if he's holding back on purpose because he feels that he may one day move on just like his double had tried to... well. He is suffering from a stab wound and blood loss, and all the agony and exhaustion inherent in that--the alien can see what a mess he is despite the way he downplays it, can feel the trembling easily given that the human is still being held in his arms. Even if the clergyman is thinking that he may have to one day forsake him, the alien no longer has it in his hearts to do the same to him, so he's going to do his best to take care of him while... whatever it is that they have lasts.

Slowly lowering himself down onto one knee, Glacius very carefully helps the clerygman ease down onto the couch. "I know you are not going to be thrilled to hear this, but we should have off with those outer layers. Not only are they a mess that I don't want to track into your room and your bed, but I need access to your injuries so that I can see to them throughout your recovery..."

He pauses for a moment as uncertainty flashes across him, remembering the way the offer he is about to make was rejected before... but circumstances are slightly different, now, and it will be a good way to tell if Carlisle still has as much trust in him as he claims to. "...Also, I know you are protective of them, but... I would be willing to wash those clothes, if you would allow it. We shouldn't let the blood and ink set in them for too long, lest they get ruined, and I don't want you wasting energy on such a task in your state." Now he holds up a hand, trying to appear reassuring. "Don't worry--I know what I am doing. I spend a lot of time in the clinic with Kate, she's showed me how to wash garments and sheets, how to get blood and other tougher stains out of them."

Thankfully for Glacius, it was more of a lapse in judgment on Carlisle's part than anything more malicious; much as the alien surmises, he has a few other things on his mind, such as undressing. Glacius might have expected more resistance, but Carlisle nods to both suggestions, neither willing nor strong enough to argue. He has other, more immediate problems, like his fingers -- the numbness that comes with general activity might be new, but the stiffness and chill he feels when he's expelled a significant amount of energy is not.

They are both dead and alive is what they say about the twice-cursed, after all. He never has liked that notion. It makes him feel as though he has one foot in the grave already.

He struggles with one of the clasps on his tabard for only a second before leaning forward and craning his neck away so that Glacius may help him.

Makers, that was too easy. Yet another pang of concern washes through the alien, one that only goes stronger when he realizes that Carlisle is too weak to so much as undo the clasps of his outer layer. Chirping softly, Glacius extends one frozen hand towards the poor human's bloodied frame, his large fingers fighting briefly with the comparatively small clasps until he manages to undo them. The edges of the fabric come apart just in front of his shoulder, and the ice alien shifts his grip to catch it, urging the clergyman to sit forward briefly so that he can very carefully pull the vestment from his body the rest of the way. It gets folded up neatly and set on a nearby end table, and then the alien's attention is fully back on his friend. He doesn't need to know old sayings from Carlisle's world to realize that he looks like he could pitch over at any moment.

"Stay strong, Carlisle... stay with me," Glacius urges, worry and pity filling his hearts. He's trying to keep the human's attention, trying to offer him support as he seeks to keep him from passing out. "Do you need help with the rest, too?"

"Probably," he replies quietly, rubbing at his face again before adding, "unfortunately. I'm sorry."

That apology comes out reflexively, as though things might get better the more times he says it. They don't, so he adds more, despite the fact he probably shouldn't waste so much energy on words -- it's in his nature to do so.

"I don't mean to be a further burden to you after all you've had to put up with today," says the guy who was impaled by a pair of hedge clippers. He looks down at himself, his eyes still more or less out of focus. "Cisth, I'm a mess."

Glacius does not mind the apology, though it's not necessary--he's just relieved that Carlisle is alert enough to be responsive. He leans in a little bit closer, starting to help the clergyman with his jacket, then his undershirt--that last layer gets pulled from him very carefully, not wanting the tight-fitting fabric to peel painfully across any wounds. The pants can go later once he's ready to move him to the bed... now that he's bare from the waist up, the ice alien wastes no time in inspecting his body for wounds. Thankfully the shears didn't punch all the way through, though he's afraid what he'll find when he looks to the other side.

"It's just fine," he tries to reassure Carlisle, "You're going to be fine. We'll get you all patched up and taken care of. I just need to gather some medical supplies from the washroom... can you lay down on your front so I can see the wound, in the meantime?"

The shears didn't go all the way through, but Carlisle can still feel them pressing against his front from the inside, the pain having not yet ebbed away in its entirety. It flares again as his layers come off, but aside from a hiss and a pained expression, he keeps any and all complaints he may have to himself. Glacius' worry is evident; he doesn't want to worry the alien any more.

And so he does as he's asked, leaning down on the couch before turning into his front. The wound on his back is sealed shut with fresh skin, but the purple, bruised coloration of it is probably unsettling.

"I'll be fine," he repeats, more for himself than for Glacius.

"That's right," Glacius agrees, watching Carlisle turn over with some trepidation--which worsens as he sees that unsettling coloration. Despite himself he can't help but reach out to place his hand on the clergyman, rubbing his back above the ugly bruising slowly and reassuringly. "You're doing very well. I'm almost done, actually... it looks like you managed to mend the wound completely, so I don't know if I need to do much but clean you up a bit."

Taking a moment longer just to sit with his friend as he continues to run a hand rhythmically and soothingly over his back, he then gently pats Carlisle's shoulder and then rises so he can get on that. Moving into the bathroom, he grabs up washcloths, some soap and a bowl of warm water... then some bandages as well, just in case he uncovers any other cuts as he washes away the blood and dirt. His eyes also linger on the painkillers sitting up in the cabinet, but he ultimately passes over them; the clergyman has said those things don't help him much. Very shortly it's going to be time to put his glyphcrafting practice to the test.

For now he returns to his friend's side and sits down right next right to him; he's tall enough that his upper body is easily level with the couch cushions the human is resting on. The otherworldly being sets out the various supplies he's brought before him, then--after taking a moment to focus-- extends his hands and closes his eyes, sucking in a breath as he retracts the opaque white ice from his fingertips all the way down to his wrists. The process is painful as ever, but if his skin was left intact he wouldn't be able to wet the washcloth without it freezing over, and moreover he suspects prolonged exposure to his natural armor would be unpleasant for the human. Now prepared, he soaks the first washcloth in soap and warm water, then begins scrubbing some of the blood and detritus that surrounds the mended wound and streaks down the clergyman's back.

"How does this feel?" Glacius murmurs gently. If Carlisle didn't notice him skinning himself before, he should certainly notice the complete lack of chill coming from the alien's hands as they press the warm, damp fabric to his body.

Though he stiffens at first in surprise, Carlisle takes in a shaky breath and eventually relaxes against Glacius' touch as he alien rubs his back reassuringly. He'd be more impressed that he managed to fully close the wound if not for the fact he feels so completely and utterly drained, weakened to the point where Glacius is forced to attend to him. Given how sturdy the alien is by comparison, he may never get the chance to return the favor.

That's not what this is about, he reminds himself, Glacius' voice practically playing in his head. They are friends, and perhaps Glacius wants the same as him: to feel useful, needed. Wanted.

As the alien makes his way to the bathroom, Carlisle closes his eyes, trying to rest his weary mind. He finds no respite as he wonders something new, something unnerving: if there is another him wandering around, is there another Glacius, as well? Probably, he decides grimly, but he doesn't doubt for a moment that this is the true one. Their shared signs of solidarity, the care he's being given... Carlisle wants to believe that he'd know an imposter if met with one.

But Glacius hasn't known. Perhaps the false gods made these doubles cleverer and crueler than any of them could imagine. His certainly had been, if what Glacius said is true.

He opens his eyes once Glacius returns, trying to spend what energy he has focusing on one thing at a time. The warm towel feels good on his back. "A vast improvement ov—"

He stops, realizing that yes, that is a warm tag against him, and pushes himself up from the couch. "Glacius, you didn't ju—"

Yes, Glacius did just retract his icy shell, but Carlisle doesn't get the full question out as he winces, curling in on himself as sharp pang cutting through his middle.

Glacius' eyes widen in surprise and he pulls back slightly as Carlisle shoots upright... or as upright as he can managed when his body is so weak and exhausted. The otherworldy being's hands--bare, pale, and sinewy, his tendons jutting out against his alien flesh--return to the clergyman's body immediately, urging him to lay back down. That wince is highly disconcerting... what caused it? Did he manage to fully heal the wound, or simply seal it, leaving internal damage?

"Stay down, Carlisle, you are hurting yourself," the ice alien tells him--he's afraid to apply too much pressure for fear or hurting him worse, but if the human is doing that to himself already then he will force it. "What ails you? Have you not mended? Is it simply sore, or is there a more grievous problem that I need to address?"

"Sore!" Carlisle chokes out, relenting to the alien's coaxing and easing back down into the cushions. "And stiff. This- this happens. I'm fine. This- this is fine."

He catches his breath before turning his head to look Glacius' way. "Your hands," he utters, hoping that will be enough for the alien to deduce his cause for alarm.

"This is not fine, Carlisle--you are in pain, you can barely move!" Glacius rumbles out, absolutely not buying into the clergyman's attempts to downplay his condition for once. The otherworldly being is about to ask him for an actual explanation of what is wrong when he turns his face--still streaked in blood and ink--to face him, the alien finds himself taken aback that somehow, despite his injuries and his exhaustion, he's the one that the human is concerned over.

It's enough that Glacius feels himself blush the tiniest bit as he looks down at his bare hands. "Y-yes. It has to be this way for me to continue treatment. Plus, you already have a hard enough time staying warm as is... I did not want to worsen your discomfort..."

Edited 2017-01-19 20:57 (UTC)

Aware he should trust Glacius knows what he's doing, Carlisle nods, a sigh rattling through him. "Just be careful, please. I... worry about you. About burdening you. About- about losing you." And he doesn't want to lose Glacius any more than the alien wants to lose him.

He relaxes once more as best as he can. He'd suggest that a shower would be far easier, but he's not sure he could manage standing on his own for long enough to take one. Some enchanted tea would help stave off the stiffness of his limbs, but he expects he'll need at least a day of rest to recover from what he's been through. It might be even longer before Glacius recovers from his ordeal... if he recovers at all.

Carlisle's eyes close again as he bites back frustration, Glacius' trust in him so obviously hindered by what the double had said. He can't say he blames Glacius for his doubt -- the alien has been through so much, been betrayed by his kind before. Carlisle can't say he'd trust himself, either. Who would trust a twice-cursed, those who bring misfortune upon everyone they meet?

That extends to other worlds as well, it seems. He tries not to give in to his paranoia, but he's so sure that this friendship will one day end, possibly messily.

Both of them are afraid that their friendship may one day end, but Carlisle is helping more than he knows when he confesses his worries to the alien. Every since his clone had suggested they go their separate ways, Glacius had wondered how long it would be until his original shared those thoughts, if he wasn't having inklings already... to hear that his presence is still so important to the clergyman is... not only touching, but settling as well.

He draws the washcloth away--it's already been stained through with blood and needs to be rinsed, anyways--and then places his hand to his friend's shoulder once more. The contact feels novel all over again, given that he's never touched a human skin to the skin of his underbody before... the ice alien sighs in a contemplative manner, then turns his attention to Carlisle's face.

"I don't want to lose you, either... why do you think the double's words shook me as badly as they did?" Glacius asks, beginning to unconsciously run his hand over the clergyman's back again--the physical contact has become such a sign of solidarity and comfort that he's not even really thinking of it right now. "For so long now, you've been here with me in this cave, offering me kindness and understanding and support... if I lost that... if I lost you, I... I don't know what I would do." The alien pauses again, his hand stalling as he fights to find a better way to describe feelings that he's not sure he's ever felt before. Finding that words fail him, he goes with something succinct but meaningful, something that he figures the clergyman should probably hear.

"You're my closest friend too... you're important to me, greatly so. Thus, I will renew my promise to you: as long as you will have me, I will stay by your side, Carlisle. I could never forsake you, no matter what happens."

Physical contact is a strange thing for Carlisle: even before he was cursed, he more or less had an aversion to it, having never been the rough-and-tumble sort the rest of his family was. Once he started studying magic, he donned more layers so as not to accidentally expel magic when he ought not, to not release a channel into some unsuspecting person due to a lack of control on his part. Given how panic-stricken he can be, that seemed like a reasonable choice. After they discovered his affliction, he donned even more layers. The vestments of his order not only hide the mark of his curse, but act as a barrier between him and everyone else. Some would call them stifling, but to him, they are protection.

And so he doesn't shed them often, and almost never in front of others. Glacius is a rare exception to this rule. It had been out of necessity at first, as the alien would only allow him to examine his wounds if Carlisle would grant him the same courtesy. It is out of necessity now that so much of him is bare, as Glacius was right -- if they'd allowed the ink and blood to set in, the stains would never come out of the fabric.

And yet, he doesn't feel completely out of his element, doesn't feel unsafe to have so much of him exposed -- not with Glacius right there, checking on his wounds, shielding him, as always. The icy giant continues to be his stalwart protector, no matter how much Carlisle feels he doesn't deserve one. He offers Glacius a weak smile, absolutely grateful.

"I will try not... to disappoint you and force you to reconsider," he replies softly. "I... admit I worry sometimes" —a lot of the time— "that I will make a mistake with... this."

He's not entirely sure what this is, so he makes the barest of gestures with his hand, something vague that is supposed to encompass everything around them -- what they're doing, where they are, them.

"Perhaps if I'd been better at telling you such things, you'd... have had no reason to doubt me at all, or to believe the lies you were told by a creature wearing my face." Though there's another apology on his tongue, he holds it back.

Edited 2017-01-19 23:00 (UTC)

Physical contact is tricky for Glacius as well, given how nuanced it is in his culture. His people, being beings that liked their space, usually only initiated it in this manner when they were rather close--of course little touches of support or solidarity were fine, but the frequency and length of the contact that the ice alien and the human have come to share are a step beyond that now. Glacius and Carlisle have managed to jump right over that hurdle, given how often they had to see to each other's physical injuries... and that giving of themselves out of necessity, as Carlisle has viewed it, had helped the transition feel a bit more natural.

And then there's the contact he had initiated now, which involved his underbody... that was decidedly more intimate than even regular physical contact, and yet Glacius doesn't feel uncomfortable about it either--physically, yes, the exposure to the warm air around him hurts, but emotionally... he is doing what he needs to do to see to someone he cares about. He's glad to see that his attempts are paying off... he's fairly certain that grateful smile is the first positive expression he's seen to grace the clergyman's face tonight and it does a lot to refresh his hearts, to dull some of the pain he'd been feeling every since his double first laid into him.

"As long as you are trying, you could never disappoint me," the ice alien assures him, shifting a little closer. "And... I appreciate you... saying all this. I... I do not mean to seem weak, or needed, but I... I needed to hear it, after what happened." Glacius exhales quietly as he gets that admission out--it hadn't been easy, then looks into Carlisle's eyes again. "From here on out, if anyone attempts to undermine our friendship, I will believe in the strength of what we have forged. I... I won't do you the disservice of doubting you again."

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