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.

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Though he's quiet as they make their way back to their shared home, that look of frustration remains, dulled only by the exhaustion so evident in his frame. He can't possibly know what his double had in store for Glacius, can't even guess the twin would try to cripple the connection the two of them share. He'd been so worried that the alien would be compelled to do something horrible that he doesn't even consider the other ways wounds can be inflicted.

"I was so afraid, Glacius," he admits, finally finding his voice. It's softer now. "I'm... used to that for me, but..."

He swallows. He'd felt a rarity in that moment when he'd pushed himself to his feet, forcing himself to walk to the stairs despite the pain flooding through him: he was more afraid for someone else than himself.

Glacius stops mid-stride as Carlisle speaks up again, his boyd flinching and his features tightening up. Of course the clergyman had expression concern for him through pained, choked gasps over the network... but after everything his double had said, the ice alien wasn't sure if that was only due to the fact that if he was dead, he wouldn't be able to come to the human's aid.

"You were... that worried about me?" Glacius asks tentatively, remembering to move his feet again. He wasn't sure if the sentiment was genuine, but he wants it to be... he wants so badly to be able to believe in what they had again, but it's hard.

"I thought—" Carlisle's own body twitches as he tries to bite back the emotions he'd felt in that moment, fails to keep them from coming back to the front of his mind. He's giving Fear and Sorrow a feast, he's sure. "He- he said he'd force you to take your life, and- and in that moment, I couldn't think of what I'd do if that happened."

His hand shakes as he paws at his chest, at where his holy symbol rests beneath his ruined tabard. He'd been afraid for himself, but more afraid for Glacius, his stalwart protector, his friend.

Glacius blinks down at Carlisle as he digests that knowledge. If that was his double's plan, then what made him decide to go off of it? Why had he favored the emotional torment over the physical? Perhaps he was simply attempting to grind down the ice alien's will before he attempted the compulsion--it would have been extremely difficult otherwise...

"Well... he didn't," the ice alien murmurs, glad to see the Spire looming large in the distance. All that twitching and shaking the clergyman is doing is making him nervous... he needs to tend to him. "Either he simply didn't get the chance, or he decided other tactics would be more destructive in the long run."

And given how it's a true challenge for the alien to not reveal how utterly eviscerated he's been feeling over everything, it seems like that was a safe assumption.

More destructive tactics, Carlisle turns in his head. It had to be something that would convince Glacius he didn't want to live there anymore -- the icy giant, usually so strong and determined, had been absolutely uncertain of whether or not Carlisle wanted to remain at the apartment, to return to the space they'd been sharing for well over a month now. But what had his double done? Had the twin truly changed his mind in the walk from the garden to their home?

Carlisle rubs at his eyes -- he can feel his limbs growing cold, losing sensation as they tend to when he's expelled far more energy than he should. It's the expected result from an unexpected occurrence.

Though his head is starting to ache, he can't let that thought go for even a moment, can't cast it aside for when he's not struggling to stay awake. He takes in another breath, the air dragged into him roughly as he asks for clarification. Perhaps it'd help. "Other tactics?"

"I, ah." Glacius begins but cuts himself off quickly... he really doesn't want to talk about this, but he knows that he must. He doesn't want to let anything undermine the friendship that he and Carlisle have, and he knows that if there's anyone he should listen to on the matter it should probably be the real Carlisle. But that's also part of the problem. The double was based on him, after all, shared his thoughts and every memory... so Glacius knows that he must have had some real insight into the clergyman's mind.

And that's the crux of it, really: regardless of what the clergyman says, Glacius is afraid that there will still be that niggling fear that the human might change his mind about him, or that he might be hiding the way he really feels under a veil of kindness just to procure the sense of security the alien provides. After all, the double had said it himself: there's no way something like him could ever have that much meaning to a human like himself.

The otherworldly being hangs his head, his body shuddering as the words play back in his mind in a perfect echo of his friend's voice. His gills work a few times like he's trying to get some words out, but nothing comes, and instead he simply ends up shaking his head. The walls he'd tried to start rebuilding are beginning to come down again, the devastation that the alien had suffered beginning to rear its ugly head above the rubble.

And with Glacius' expression falls Carlisle's, as well: his friend's turmoil is so strong that he cannot ignore it, no matter how worn he is. Whatever it was his double had done, it poisoned the bond between the two of them, so tortured Glacius that he struggles to talk about it, even with someone who has already seen him at his lowest, who has always been on his side. The two of them have staved off loneliness by finding comfort in each other. If Glacius thought Carlisle had turned against him, and that he was to suffer that intolerable alienation once more...

The clergyman's face twists, his vision blurring not from his health, but from some private heartache, his eyes bleary as a grim realization overwhelms him. The double had meant what he said when he'd threatened to push Glacius to take his own life; however, he'd never intended to do it through compulsion at all. He hadn't needed to, not when the pits of despair that Carlisle himself had helped pull the alien from were so much more effective.

It's a terrible thought, and one far too close to Carlisle's heart. The false him must have known that, and sought to destroy them both in one go. Worst of all, he may have succeeded.

From his spot in the alien's arms, Carlisle tries to reassure his dearest friend through action rather than words: he reaches for Glacius' jaw to put a hand to his scar, the physical remains of an event that, as horrible as it had been, ultimately drew them together. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice strained. "Whatever it was this apparition did on my behalf... I am sorry, my friend."

Edited 2017-01-18 17:11 (UTC)

The contact, at least, is something that Carlisle's double hadn't had the chance to sully. Glacius' breath hitches in his chest when he feels the clergyman's hand rest gently on that scar, the gesture just as full of care and consideration as it has always been. When he touches him like that, things feel a little more okay again... he fights the urge to stop in the street and seek further familiar reassurances.

"Not here," the ice alien rumbles out, though he tilts his head against Carlise's palm to show that the gesture is accepted and appreciate. "You are hurt. I cannot waver yet." But soon... the Spire is close, and once they make it inside he can get the human situated again... and then maybe they can talk about all of this.

Feeling Glacius' head press against his hand, Carlisle nods and draws it back, rubbing at his eyes as he falls silent, his heart heavy. Just what had the creature posing as him done? And more importantly, could it be fixed?

It's in that moment that he thinks of Algidus, of the injury in the green alien's voice when he believed Carlisle had turned against him, of the outright agony that overtook him, crippling even the strongest of warriors. To imagine Glacius being put through that wounds him even now, even worse than the shears in his back.

And so Carlisle is quiet the rest of the way to the Spire, resting once more against his alien friend as he tries to focus on something else -- anything else. What finally holds his attention is the sharp pounding behind his eyes and the roughness of his throat as he breathes; both are preferable to where his mind would go if given the chance.

Edited 2017-01-18 18:52 (UTC)

As for Glacius, he simply focuses on putting one step in front of the other, to getting Carlisle somewhere safe where he can be properly seen to, then rest and recuperate. Murmuring an apology for the slight jostling as he adjusts his grip on the human so he can open the door to the spire, the ice alien then holds him securely once more and ascends the stairs. Once they're at the door, he pauses... now that the clergyman has his keys, he usually just liquidizes under the crack between the door and the ground, but he can't do that when he's toting a human. And speaking of keys...

"I believe these belong to you... providing you still want them," the ice alien murmurs, adjusting his grip again so that he can place the small piece of shaped metal in Carlisle's hand. Then he holds him lower, closer to the handle, so that he can unlock the door to their shared living space.

Glacius' doubt cuts Carlisle like a knife, all while reaffirming his growing concern. Though his hands shake, he takes the key without hesitation and unlocks the door for both of them to enter their home, together.

But it isn't enough, is it? His own doubts turn on him, his exhaustion having worn away plenty of purchase for them to alight. He mumbles another apology as the door opens, defeat weighing upon him like a thick, stifling blanket. Unlike his friendship with Glacius, it offers neither warmth nor comfort to his worried mind.

It might not be enough to completely banish Glacius' worry, but it certainly helps to settle some of them. He gives a small, soft chirrup of encouragement--a sound that might seem uncharacteristic for a creatures of his size or fierce-looking visage--to the human as he opens the door, and takes them both inside immediately, shutting it behind them with his sturdy heel. Soon. Soon his friend will be able to rest...

... But there's still a lot of work to be done before that point. The ice alien casts another glance down at the weary frame of the human cradled protectively his arms, takes in the sorrow, the wounds, the ink and blood painted across him. He never should have had to suffer like this. It makes his hearts ache all over again, but at least this is with concern--a brief break from the doubt and self-depreciation festering in his soul.

"Is it... permissible for me to tend to you, Carlisle?" Glacius asks quietly as he walks them towards the couch. He'd head straight into the clergyman's bedroom, but doesn't want to get any of the sheets or furnishings in there dirty. "We can do what we have done in the past, where we... discuss our troubles as I work, if that helps."

Carlisle nods, his eyes on the couch as the alien nears it. Sitting there is a box of his things, various knickknacks and possessions he's gathered tossed in without care. Right on top is the bottle he gave Miriam, one she'd left behind with her disappearance.

"Why are my things out here?" he asks quietly, moving to slide out of the alien's grasp.

Nope, sorry Carlisle, he's not convinced you are in any shape to be moving yet--the alien tenses and attempts to keep his hold on the human, even as sorrow settles upon his features clear as day.

"The double, he ah. I think he was starting to move out... he said that it would be better if we... if we..." he tries and cuts himself off, lest his voice choke up in an unbecoming manner. Taking a deep breath, Glacius pushes onward, "...If we went our separate ways."

Carlisle stops moving as Glacius speaks, his eyes turning toward his friend. He sees that sorrow, hears it in the alien's voice.

"I..." His brow knits. "I wouldn't do that, but... would it truly wound you so much if we did?"

He casts Glacius a look that isn't puzzled, but expectant, eager, intensely curious as his hands wrap together, as they are far too shaky and numb to wring.

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)

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[cw: suicidal ideation]

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