hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dead Ringers

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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

In a sense, Carlisle is having his own words handed back to him, albeit with more strain and rasping, given the state of Glacius' gills. The message, however, is the same: if he'd left at any point before, even under the pretense of it being in Glacius' best interest, the alien -- his friend -- would be dead. He's told Glacius that many times, and it's been true in every case: when they were faced with the shade of Cinder, when Emily was taken by a demon, when Carlisle's own double left him for dead.

It is true now, as it has always been. Their own individual sense of guild and inclination to shoulder responsibility may say otherwise, but without one another, where would they be?

He closes his eyes against the cool of Glacius' forehead against his own; it quells his headache for a time, grants him some solace from his own troubles. The alien may be covered in ice, but Carlisle can feel some warmth stirring in him from the depths of his chest. It's a good feeling, despite the circumstances that brought them to that moment.

"As am I with you," he answers finally.

That seems to settle the alien--or maybe he's just having a hard time staying conscious. Now that Carlisle is back with him and he's not feeling quite as on tenterhooks about the clergyman's well being, a sort of relief washes through him, mingling with the exhaustion of staying up all night after going through so much. Either way he gives a fond-sounding sigh of acknowledgement, then goes very quiet and still. He might have managed to pass out for a moment or two, but he ultimately comes around, not about to leave his friend alone right after waking up.

"Your condition... you have exacerbated it," the ice alien notes sadly, having been able to gather that much from all the ink Carlisle was expelling, as well as how utterly unresponsive he had been for so long. "What can be done to help you recover? I want to know everything--this was on my behalf, after all... I must set it right."

"I need rest above all else," he answers. Well, maybe not everything else. "I have simply extended myself too far, but I... well." Glacius already knows, as Carlisle just admitted it -- he'd have done anything to save him.

It may be relatively dark in the room, but Carlisle can pick up on the alien's weariness, and knows well enough that Glacius probably watched over him for as long as he was unconscious. "How long was I out?"

"A... A day or so," Glacius responds shakily. "I was so worried, Carlisle... and I felt so powerless. Nothing I did seemed to help... you kept coughing up that ink and I made sure you could expel it, but you... you didn't wake up..."

Fighting back a whine, the ice alien instead brings a hand up to the back of the clergyman's head, trying to further the contact between them. "I know I can't ask you not to do that again, because if our positions were reversed then I absolutely would have expended myself to save you... but..." he shudders again, then coughs up a single hoarse laugh that sounds a mixture of bitter and self-depreciating, "...Please, don't do that again."

Carlisle's eyes fall, his brow knitting against Glacius' forehead. Despite his aptitude in his craft -- he can do a great amount of healing before reaching his breaking point, far more than other healers from his world -- even he has a limit, one he has reached a handful of times in his life when times were desperate. Each time seemed to push the boundaries of his skills a little farther, allowed him to do more before he had to stop; however, the consequences of his fatigue were more apparent each time, as well. He's passed out before, and even a time or two before reaching the depths of his exhaustion, but to be unconscious for over a day, all while hacking up the black bile is undeniably troubling.

But it is a trouble for another day -- he has many of those. He presses against Glacius tightly, the alien's hand at the back of his head encouraging him as he brings his own to Glacius' jaw. He wants to acquiesce to the alien's request but...

"I am not in the habit of making promises I cannot keep, Glacius."

Glacius lets slip a frustrated growl, having seen that answer coming a mile away. "Nor am I. But each time you do this, new and alarming symptoms crop up... first it was the scars in your arms, then the lack of feeling in your body, now it is the unconsciousness and expulsion... I cannot bear the thought that you might be pushing yourself towards your end, Carlisle. And what is it that you said to me so long ago? 'You are no good to anyone dead'. I implore you, my friend... use care. You have as much value as anyone else in this cave, from any of these worlds--you needn't resort to drastic measures to prove yourself."

That seems to give Carlisle pause, his own words turned against him once more. He gave many a sermon back in Bear Den; if only someone had taught him to follow what he says himself as dutifully as he listens to others in a confessional.

Glacius has a point, though -- more than one, really. He is no use to anyone dead. He cannot prove himself as worthy of either redemption or his family's legacy if he's no longer alive -- not that the latter particularly matters in Hadriel. But the alien has another point in that the symptoms of his fatigue, while Carlisle is used to dealing with them, are becoming progressively worse, and the clergyman can't help but wonder why. Is it his curse, or the expenditure of energy that's causing it?

He convinces himself it must be the former, as he cannot live with the possibility it may be the latter. His craft is so intrinsic to who he is, to his service to the Camisou... he cannot entertain the notion that he has no purpose in this world that won't result in him expediting his death.

Carlisle lets out a sigh against the alien. Twice-cursed only live for so long -- that much is a fact, common knowledge in his world that he came to terms with years ago. It seems even those who do their best to fight against the pull of their darker gifts are eventually drawn in by the current and suffocated beneath the depths.

"I am not pushing myself toward my end, Glacius," he insists quietly, though his tone betrays his uncertainty toward that. "I do what I must, and if it means your survival, then I would choose that every time."

He pauses as he says that, realization of just how important Glacius is to him. Prior to his time in Hadriel, he'd have run when given the chance, thrown others to the wolves if it meant his survival. His cowardice dictated what he would do when faced with danger.

So why is Glacius different? Why is he different?

Glacius, more than familiar with the little hitches in Calrisle's cadence here and there, picks up on that uncertainty easily enough. It's doubly alarming to him that the physical symptoms are evidence that even the clergyman cannot fully deny... he tries to think about what he would do if he saw his friend expending himself in such a way again. Could he interrupt the channeling? Should he interrupt the channeling, or would that just cause Carlisle to lose control of his energies and lead to even worse results?

And then there's another issue, an issue that Carlisle himself is currently mulling over. While he's never though that the clergyman was a coward, he's certainly noticed his skittishness, and the human himself has said that he has enough of his own problems without having to worry about the trouble that other people in this gave get into. So why is it that things are so different between the two of them? Why is it that Carlisle would--no, has, on more than one occasion-- run towards danger on his behalf? Why is it that he puts priority on the survival of an alien like him when he's always been so concerned with his own demise?

Deep down, the alien knows. It's another point for the addled confession that Glacius was so sure was just the enchanted tea talking... he flicks his gaze to the clergyman and looks him over for a moment, wondering if he should bring it up. But the might be too complicated a topic for a time when his friend is so clearly exhausted and worn down, and he's still not even sure if the feelings are wanted at all by the human...

Another time, then. The ice alien realizes how long the silence has been stretching between them, so he butts against Carlisle gently, finally deciding that at this point is is easiest to just agree. "And I would choose yours... so you understand, I hope, why I must see to you now. Please tell me anything that could be helpful to you in recovering from this, no matter how big or small, and I will do what I can to provide it."

Carlisle, doesn't mind the silence -- it gives him time to think and just enjoy Glacius' company, something he feels he's earned with the alien's survival. At least there's something he can be proud of. He basks in the warmth from his chest, a blessing when he feels so undeniably cold from his exhaustion.

"I just need rest," he reassures Glacius. "You should find some yourself, my friend. You are in no condition to be waiting by my bedside."

Glacius flicks his eyes down to look at himself and gives a small grunt. Carlisle does technically have a point--he's an utter mess. He didn't so much as wipe off any of the blood that has now frozen to his icy skin, which is still cracked in various places. But the worst of his wounds have been healed... he may be hurting still, and he may be utterly worn down, but he is going to live. As far as he's concerned, his friend's condition is far more concerning.

Of course, he has no idea of the complications from that filthy vine that are festering within him even now--complications that will only get worse the more he pushes himself. For now, he can get away with acting like this.

"I will make sure that you... actually remain undisturbed this time," Glacius grits out, trying not to get dragged down by his previous failure. "But are you sure there is nothing else you need? You have water... what about food, to help restore some of your energy... or any painkillers? Please spent a moment to actually think about my request, Carlisle. It is important." He does look stiff, but perhaps that is just the complete lack of energy rearing its head.

He offers Glacius a tentative smile at first, but knows he should do better than deflect the alien's concerns. Perhaps he can do more for him by agreeing to let him help -- Carlisle knows he would like the opportunity to do the same, should Glacius need him.

"I will be hungry later, no doubt," he admits. "I believe I could use some tea, if I could trouble you for it. It would help settle my nerves as I meditate." Or write. Or pray. Anything but sleep. Now that he's awake and again aware of Glacius' injuries, he'd prefer not to do that.

Edited 2017-01-26 10:37 (UTC)

Glacius bows his head immediately. "It will be done. And while I am fine with you staying up for a bit..." he did just sleep for an entire day, after all, and the alien is enjoying having his company again, "...You should try to get some more rest before it gets too much later. I... I hope your trust in me has not been shaken too badly by this, and that you will still feel comfortable getting some sleep under my watch."

"I'd trust you before I trust myself," Carlisle replies quietly as he rubs at his throat, having expected some protest to his decision, "but perhaps it is I who should watch you. I did just awaken from a rather, er... lengthy nap."

Unfortunately, he's not entirely sure how he'd go about watching Glacius, given he hasn't enough energy to leave the bedroom for very long. His legs ache along with the rest of him, fighting the thought even now.

Glacius suppresses a snort. Given Carlisle's usual level of trust in himself, that doesn't quite come across as a bid of confidence in his abilities.

"We can watch each other," the alien decides, given that he's not going to be straying far from the clergyman's room until he's managed to recover. "Now... I shall do as you ask."

With that he rises from the chair--swaying once as he gets up, he's more tired than he thought--and heads into the other rooms to gather up some things. The tea kettle gets put on to boil while he draws up the required glyph, sets it aside, then scrounges around in the kitchen for a slice of the bread that they made together everything went to hell, as well as a few other bits of foods that his friend has expressed preference for. When that's all done he gathers up some of the leaves that Carlisle has allotted for this particular brew, pulls their various barbs off, then finishes up with the tea and takes everything back into the clergyman's bedroom with him--snatching up some washcloths and one of the books that the human seems to enjoy reading from on his way in.

That's how he enters the room--tea and one hand and small plate of food in the other, washcloths draped over his arm and the book tucked underneath it. Once he's back at Carlisle's side he sets everything out--perhaps the one good thing about the lamp getting knocked to the floor is that it means there's more space on the furniture by the bedside. When his arms are free he picks up the mug of tea, holding that out to the clergyman.

"Here you are. It is enchanted, but ah... not as strongly as that--" slight cough, "--one time." As much as he would vastly prefer to see a blissful smile on his friend's face, he's not sure he could drug him again in good conscience, not unless he starts misbehaving and exacerbating his condition. "I also brought some food and reading material for later, should you need either of those things. Do whatever you will... I need to make myself a bit more... ehm, presentable."

Which would be why he brought all those washcloths in. The alien picks up the first one and straightens up, allowing his icy layer to liquefy partially so that some of the frozen blood can run off. It all gets dabbed up by the absorbent fabric... he didn't really bring in enough to completely clean himself, and this would be much easier if he could just hop in the shower and reconstitute his skin that way... but he doesn't want to leave Carlisle's side for so long when he's so vulnerable, and this at least allows the human to look out for him as he'd wanted to do.

"Thank you, Glacius."

Carlisle offers Glacius an embarrassed grin -- he doesn't know the extent of his behavior while under the effects of enchanted tea far stronger than he can handle, but with the way Glacius speaks of it, it was surely unbecoming of him. He smiles more sincerely at the sight of his book, picking it up after he's had a few sips of tea. The heat that runs through him fights away the pain and numbness as well as the trembling.

Unfortunately, it does nothing to ease his concerns for Glacius. Carlisle wonders briefly why he doesn't just wash himself off in the shower, as he has done in times past. He knows the answer, of course -- Glacius will not leave him while he recuperates. The clergyman would be more grateful for that if it didn't put the alien's own health at risk.

He cannot help with the cleaning, nor can he mend Glacius' wounds, so he instead fills the silence so Glacius doesn't have to wear his throat any further. He should do the same, but he'd prefer to fill the void. "I should probably seek out some new books at some point, but this one is from home, and by Pendlebrook Brimstone, a favorite of mine. I believe I have mentioned him to you."

The inhale alone from preparing to speak is enough to draw up another cough from the alien, but if Carlisle is looking to fill the silence then he'll oblige. "Y--yes. I believe you have. He's from your world, a..." damn, was it a magician or an alchemist? It's hard to think when it's taking him effort to stay awake, but the cover of the book was for the latter, so "... an alchemist, I think? Must... have been... adept, if someone of your skill... enjoys his work."

"He was far more skilled in the craft than I am," Carlisle returns, his brow furrowing as Glacius coughs. He clears his own throat again, fighting a cough of his own. "He was a famed magician, alchemist, writer, adventurer... Pendlebrook Brimstone did it all, from discovering new spells and enchantments to helping establish diplomatic ties with other peoples."

And there's that cough, finally making it's way out of him before he sips again at his tea. It's a bit dark for him to actually read from the book, but he knows enough about Pendlebrook Brimstone that he could prattle on forever. The guy may or may not be his hero.

"You should rest yourself, but if you'd like, I could tell you more about him."

Glacius considers it for a moment, but his face is clearly tempted--tales of adventure are so hard for him to resist, after all, especially ones that cross worlds. Add to that the fact that the story will be told by a friend who he genuinely enjoys listening to talk about his passions, and it's only so long before he caves. The ice alien nods, scooting up close to Carlisle's bedside so he doesn't have to speak out and put any more stress on his throat.

"I--I would like that a lot, actually. But after this, you must rest, alright?"

He smiles. "That's fair," he agrees. He sets the book to the side and has another drink, inhaling some of the steam to aid the magic along.

"No one knows exactly where Mr. Brimstone came from. Sometimes, he claims he was the bastard son of a wizard, and other times, he pretends he was a foundling, raised by earthen spirits rather than people of any sort. He's written many a book, and his personal history varies in each one. As for me, I believe he probably has humble origins, but prefers the mystery to the truth. No matter where he came from, one cannot deny his influence on the advancement of magic in my world."

"Ha," Glacius chuckles out, rubbing at his throat briefly, "Nothing wrong with adding a bit of intrigue to his work, so long as he doesn't distort the facts behind the knowledge he's attempting to impart. So what sort of advancements did he bring to light, and how did he come across them? When you read his work, what sorts of things are you seeking to learn about?"

The first part is easy to answer. "He dabbled in many crafts, but his primary discoveries were in alchemy, glyphcrafting, evocation, and abjuration. It is because of his work that the Forest Folk were willing to share some of their rare plants outside of their communities, the paw plant included. From them, he developed new alchemical recipes, medicines we had not been able to replicate with simple enchantments alone. Through evocation, he discovered properties we were able to put into more advanced glyphs, and it is by his hands that the compound glyph was refined into the art it is today."

Needless to say, Carlisle has a lot of admiration for the magician. Despite that, he finds the second question harder to answer. "I suppose that, when I read his work, I think of just how much he managed to accomplish. I haven't nearly the skill nor spirit he does, but it is inspiring nonetheless to think that he did so much good for so many."

As Carlisle continues to speak, Glacius is finding it... surprisingly easy to get caught up in his voice. He's tired, and his the sound of his friend speaking gives him something nice and calming to listen to as he starts to relax somewhat in the chair beside him. This is much, much better than frightened whispering, panicked exclamations, pained breathing, or the horrible coughing noises as his body tried to hack up ink...

Reminded of all of the absolutely awful things that happen to them in this cave on a regular basis, Glacius startles back to a more alert state, gripping the edge of his seat as he forces himself to sit upright. "That--that is quite a list. It's good that you have someone that you can look up to in such a way, someone that... inspires you to aspire, so to speak. But..." he sighs slightly, having caught that brief hesitation, and reaches out to put a hand on Carlisle's shoulder. "But hope you are not allowing those accomplishments to daunt you, or make you think less of yourself. You could be just as skilled as he was, if you had a life to dedicate to it that wasn't so frequently beset by horrific interruptions as is the way of life in this cave. And you've done plenty of good for a lot of people already. I'm proud of the accomplishments you've made thus far, my friend... and look forward to seeing what you do next."

For a moment, Carlisle thinks Glacius may be dozing off, but then the alien rights himself and speaks -- perhaps it had been his imagination, or a trick of the dim light in the dark.

He reddens in the shadows, his own hand moving to place itself atop Glacius' at his shoulder. "The thought of my lineage is daunting enough," he admits. "And what amends I have yet to make, as well. That I must redeem myself in the eyes of my goddess, and I'm not sure how far I'll get in that endeavor."

He only has so much time, after all -- possibly less, if Glacius' concerns that he is pushing himself closer toward his end have any validity. He doesn't wish to feed Glacius' worries though, and so he continues:

"But... I feel stronger with you at my side," he admits, his voice quiet as he pushes the confession out of him. "I feel as- as thought I can do more than I ever believed. I don't" —he clears his throat— "know if you know what- what that means to me. I've doubted myself for so long, and still do -- with reason -- but I..."

Carlisle sighs, getting off-topic. "I... I value your support. I am no Pendlebrook Brimstone, but I will do my best to not let you down."

While Carlisle is the sort to feel intimidated by the tasks of him, Glacius immediately wants to seek out more information to see how he can help it all be accomplished... he wants to ask who he needs to make amends to, and what is required in his religion to redeem oneself in the eyes of the Clarity. He realizes, however, that whatever it is will likely require some work, and the clergyman isn't in the state to go up and pursue any of that just yet; moreover he doesn't want his mind hung up on those thoughts while he's trying to rest. He just wants the man to get a chance to relax...

"Please," Glacius snorts through his nose, "I doubt Pendlebrook Brimstone has faced half the things that you have, at this point. You're every bit the man that he is. I'm glad that I have helped you to feel some of that strength and capability, though; no one will ever be entirely free of self-doubt, but after everything you've been through you deserve someone who stands solidly behind you, encouraging you instead of tearing you down, and I..."

He pauses, thinks back on Carlisle's confession, then decides to offer one of his own. "... I'm glad I get to be that person for you, Carlisle. I appreciate everything you've done for me so deeply, whether it is just providing me with company and acceptance, listening to my problems, or offering your healing expertise to me despite how taxing it is," and here the alien gestures briefly to his hip, his face, his stomach, his gills--all the places the clergyman has mended for him. "You're extremely important to me and I... I want to be the same for you."

While he knows in his heart that Glacius has no idea the force to be reckoned with that is Pendlebrook Brimstone and how much more capable he is than Carlisle -- Glacius is just learning about the man in some detail, after all, and hasn't even heard the numerous dangers he's faced as opposed to Carlisle, who could hardly bear to leave the house some days because of his fears -- he appreciates the sentiment all the same. More important is that unyielding support Glacius has always offered him with neither hesitation, nor stipulation.

And so, he smiles. "You already are, Glacius. You—" He bites at his lip, his fingers curling against the alien's hand. "You mean more to me than- than I- I know how to say."

And given how much he loves words, it troubles him to be so dumbfounded, to lack the tools to express exactly what it is that stirs his heart.

Event Log: Dead Ringers

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