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

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)

"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.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject