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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Carlisle nods, that dumb smile still across him as Glacius pushes him back. "Right. Blood off, go to bed, sleep. I believe I can do all of those things adequately enough."

It should be easy, given Glacius is doing the first part. He keeps trying to flex his fingers as he sits patiently, his addled mind wandering. "Sorry for the blood. Is- is the couch all right? I ruined it, didn't I? Do we need to find another? Where they live?"

At least Carlisle is still being cooperative enough. Glacius huffs a relieved little sigh when he agrees, nodding and sitting back down so that he can reach the clergyman's abdomen without hunching over. He gets maybe one pass done with the washcloth before the human speaks up again... is he... honestly apologizing for bleeding after getting brutally stabbed?

"It's fine--it's fine, Carlisle." Makers, and the alien thought he had a tendency to ramble on before. "You didn't ruin anything. I'm just happy that you're safe. Alright? And I'll make sure you stay that way. I said I was going to look out for you, and I meant it."

"... Oh."

That seems to give pause to Carlisle and his runaway train of thought. His fingers flex again, his eyes drawn back to them.

"But who watches out for you? I should, but you- you should have someone else. Someone who can make sure you don't melt away, because that- that'd be tragic."

Now it's Glacius' turn to take a time out and think about what's been said. His hand stops moving across those scars, and his eyes drift slowly up the clergyman's body to his face.

"Yes, melting away would be a tragedy... but that's not something you have to worry about unless the gods decide to light this whole place ablaze," the ice alien attempts to reassure him. "And anyways, even if that were to happen, I do have people looking out for me. All of my friends in this cave... and that includes you."

Now he extends one bare, spindly finger, almost like he's about to prod Carlisle square in the center of the chest... then, considering the various aches and pains that he was suffering from prior to his inadvertently drugged state, seems to think better of it. Instead he reaches up and gently places one hand on the clergyman's cheek, a reflection of the way the human has so often stroked his jaw line when attempting to inspire a sense of comfort and solidarity.

"So don't worry so much about me, alright? You take good care of me. If it makes you feel any better, though, we can discuss methods of combating heat and keeping me safe from temperature related harm later." Much later, when his friend isn't in a magic-induced haze... Glacius isn't sure if he'll be able to make sense of any instructions at this point, nor does he know if Carlisle is going to remember anything from one moment to the next.

Despite Glacius' efforts, it seems Carlisle's mood has taken a downswing. He still feels incredible, and even leans into Glacius' hand as it graces his face; however, that just makes him think of how sad he'd be if he lost the alien. Tragic, tragic, tragic.

"Algidus burned once," he utters, the pictures in his mind so vivid, but twisted in ways that don't make sense. Carlisle can see the green being as clear as day, his form writhing from the deep burns along his underbody, pain flooding him to the point where even someone as proud as him would accept desperate measures. "I did what I could. Was- was it enough?"

His memories are so foggy; he can't recall where he was when that happened, or why it did in the first place. Was the tent on fire? Why was everything so red? Had he been bleeding? The floor was black, an abyss waiting to swallow him.

"It- it wasn't enough, was it?"

Carlisle looks down at his hands again -- they twitch, but he doesn't feel the sensation running down the rest of his arms. The heat of the enchanted tea burns in him, and with fire on the mind, he thinks for a fleeting moment that it might be all around them. His eyes dart left and right, paranoia kicking in as his thoughts turn faster and faster, as uncontrolled as the rest of him. Trouble is brewing somewhere -- he just doesn't see it yet, but it is out there, waiting for him to stop looking over his shoulder, hoping to catch him off-guard. He's cursed; it is his fate to bring misfortune to others.

"Was... ?"

But as he goes to put a hand to his head, his palm lands against Glacius' and where it rests against his face. The contact stops him again, seems to completely derail the downward spiral of his thoughts as his fingers curl, clasping the alien's hand with a feeble grip.

"I'm here," he says, clearer. "I'm here."

Glacius blinks, realizing as Carlisle's words become more and more grim that his comforting talk hasn't had the intended effect. Instead, the human continues to lose his grip on reality even further, mind drifting back to half-formed memories that are wrought with pain and suffering. Dread and guilt seizes the alien and he wracks his mind as he tries to correct his misstep, tries to think of some way to pull the clergyman out of the mire of his fear and self-doubt.

After all, Carlisle has done this many times for him now.

Wanting nothing more in that moment to give his friend relief--from everything, be it the suffering that ran so rampant in this cave, the pain his body was in, or the woes so deeply ingrained into his own mind-- Glacius moves his hand from the side of Carlisle's face to the back of his head, leaning up as he does so until their foreheads meet.

"Yes, you are, you're here with me where you belong. And everything that you've done? It was--it was enough," Glacius murmurs, "You're enough, Carlisle. More than. I promise you I will do everything in my power to help you one day see that."

As their foreheads connect and they share their sign of camaraderie, Carlisle lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, shutting out the world around him. It's just him and Glacius in that moment -- that, and the thudding in his chest that resonates through him so strongly that he can detect it even through the magical stupor he's in. Perhaps he's dying, or perhaps his heart is ablaze, but he couldn't care in that moment when everything feels as it should.

"Ahhhh... there it is," he whispers to himself, that barely perceptible smile tugging at him as he returns the gesture. As he rests his head against Glacius' fully, he reaches for that scar again, his hand shaking as his fingers caress it. "Like Fireclaw wine. Such a rarity in these parts."

"What's that..?" Glacius murmurs, not quite understanding what Carlisle is referring to, though he accepts the contact readily. That particular touch has come to mean so much to him, after all--solidarity, support, comfort, acceptance, and belonging. The latter is a rarity for him too, given that he was an alien being trapped in a strange land, cut off from everything that he once knew or held dear...

... Well, he has other things that are deeply important to him now, new faces that he's met that have helped to stave off the hardships of life in this cave. One of them is sitting right before him, and the ice alien feels a powerful urge to return all of the positive emotions that he's being nourished with by Carlisle's careful touch... so he initiates one of his own, mirroring the clergyman's gesture by placing the washcloth to the side and letting his own bare fingers trail gradually down his middle until they arrive at those dark violet scars. He can't exactly cup the skinny human's flat stomach the same way his jaw is being held, but he does traces slow, gentle lines over them, allowing the contact they're sharing to consume his focus.

The scars may be a sore point for Carlisle, but they made him who he is today... and Glacius would not trade that person for anything.

"Sssss'like fire in your chest," Carlisle answers, that grin pulling harder at him. His words slow down, but their number "The- the good kind of fire, if there is a good kind, not the sort that burns you or leaves you hurt, but the fire that.... Okay, fire is perhaps a poor example for you, but it feels good there. Just a single ember that I can- can wrap myself around."

A quiet, little laugh escapes him -- even he could tell that explanation was a winding one. His middle pulls itself in for air, but he seems to realize there is contact happening down there a second later as he opens his eyes. He'd balk if it were anyone else, even with as far away as his mind seems to be... but with Glacius' touch comes more of that decidedly good feeling, and so he lets the alien continue as he attempts to try again, his eyes closing once more.

"Flowers, then," he starts. "One that blossoms only in certain circumstancesesesss, such as when the..."

He trails off. "Plants might not... be the best way to describe it either, given where you come from. Not a great many plants there. What- what it is that makes you feel good, Glacius? That- that everything is just as it should be in that moment?"

Edited 2017-01-21 05:37 (UTC)

It's a good thing Carlisle clarifies--or attempts to clarify, really, the way he's slowly drawling out his usual torrent of words makes it hard to follow--because fire in the chest does not sound like a pleasant sensation to the ice alien. For a moment he's afraid that the heat of the tea he drank so quickly is hurting him, or that the amount of energy he pumped into it is somehow conflicted with the natural flow of the cleric's magic... but no, he seems too unbothered for any of that to be the case.

Trying to interpret what Carlisle is telling him, Glacius focuses on answer, and after a good moment or two of thinking, finally responds. "... Whenever I return to my home system after a long mission, and I see my homeworld there waiting for me, shining against the black void of space. When the clouds of said homeworld part after a long and fierce snowstorm, and sunlight glitters across perfect, sweeping drifts. When my people's leaders harness atmospheric optics, sending beams of light down from above to guide us, to assure us... and..."

The ice alien pauses for a moment as he thinks about it, considers the hand on his jaw and how much the gesture and Carlisle's companionship had meant when things were hard. "... And moments like with you, I suppose." Just saying that suddenly puts things in perspective... something clicks in his mind, and though he doesn't pull his head away from Carlisle's, his eyes do widen slightly. "... Are you saying that you... feel these sort of things... when you are with me?"

More quiet laughter escapes the clergyman, but he doesn't pull his head away from Glacius for even a moment. "I feel good," he says again, "when you're here, and I'm here, and we're both here. And the rabbit can be here, too. The rest sssounds terribly complicated, with the black void of space and atomos- atmos- sphilling- at-mos-fear-rick optics, but if makes you understand what that sensation is in my chest, then that's fine. That's just fine."

He keeps talking about warmth and how delightful he feels, but his body knows otherwise, his limbs starting to tremble from the chill once more, his skin reacting to the cold by exploding in tiny bumps. Still, Carlisle keeps himself so near Glacius, enjoying the pressure of the alien's head against his own. "That's... fine," he repeats quietly.

Edited 2017-01-21 06:09 (UTC)

A long silence stretches between them as a slowly-creeping realization moves through Glacius. Some of the double's words are coming back to him, now, hinting at how just how close his original actually felt to him. Due to his incredibly rocky past with the species, the ice alien has spent so long simply trying to scrounge together any sort of belonging with humans in this cave that the thought that one could have those sorts of feelings for him had never even occurred to him. Was that why the double had come after him first? Not only to try and tear him down, but because actually losing him would have more effect than on his original than the alien ever could have thought? It would make sense, given the frequent worry that Carlisle has come to express for him despite his grumblings that he had plenty of his own problems, the way that he'd seemed so scared over the thought of his passing... and the way the normally skittish and self-conscious human had both initiated and allowed such close physical contact with him...

Glacius drew his hand back from Carlisle's middle, suddenly feeling incredibly blind. Still forehead-to-forehead, he flicked his eyes up to search the man's face, but of course there were no answers to be had there--just the same blissfully doped up expression.

"A sensation in your chest... yes, I... I think I do understand," Glacius finally responds. For a moment he seems like he has another question on his mind, but he bites it back and swallows it down. That conversation is one that should probably wait until Carlisle isn't feeling out of his mind-- if there even needs to be a conversation at all. Nearly nothing he's saying is making sense, so who's to say what he's feeling isn't just some added effect of being doped up on magic tea?

And even if it's not, even on the off chance that Carlisle is actually being genuine here, the alien is honestly not sure if he should if he should question the human on it and bring these feelings into the light. For with the remembrance of the double's words also comes reminders of his scathing derision... and even though he had just promised the clergyman not to doubt their friendship, what of a romantic relationship? Would Carlisle be as ready to admit to that? Clearly not, if he's been feeling this for some time but was only confessing it now because a drugged state had stripped him of his usual barriers... and the ice alien doesn't want to risk embarrassing or disgusting him.

Feeling somber, disquieted, and utterly unsure of what to do, Glacius focuses on what he knows Carlisle needs for sure. He finally pulls his forehead from the human's, rising to his feet and moving to scoop him up in his arms. "Come. You're clean enough... let's get you into bed. You need to get some rest, so that you can recover your energy."

Though he looks a bit disappointed to lose the contact he was sharing with Glacius, Carlisle readily defers to his judgment. He can hardly think through the haze and the steady thudding in his chest; he can put his trust into his icy protector until his head clears.

"That's a good idea," he agrees, perfectly happy to let Glacius handle him for the moment-- he might change his mind later, when he's aware enough to be embarrassed. "Grand. Perfect. I'll rest and be in good health in no time. I feel just fantastic at the moment."

He might change his mind on that once the tea has worn off, too.

Edited 2017-01-21 19:13 (UTC)

Normally, Carlisle's effusive enthusiasm for the situation at hand would have put a slight smile on Glacius' face (even though he knows it's not really funny, considering this was only going to end up being a temporary relief from his pain)... but he's too preoccupied with his latest revelations to really put forth much emotion right now. In the very least, he's relieved that the clergyman isn't too wrapped up in his suffering for the time being... hopefully he'll be able to get some decent rest that will help him actually feel a bit better when he wakes, instead of just relying on a high to do so for him.

Still cradling the clergyman carefully in his arms, the ice alien takes him into his room. He casts a glance down at his friend, allows himself to take some relief from the fact that he does look much better now--not streaked with ink and blood, not shaking from agony or coughing with each breath. He is going to have to be especially on guard to ensure that trend keeps up--to make sure nothing gets in to threaten Carlisle's health or causes him stress, and to make sure that he keeps up the bed rest until his strength has come back to him. He doesn't want the clergyman moving around or trying to attempt mundane tasks until his energy has been restored, and the stiffness has gone from his limbs... and in the meantime, he'll have to figure out what he's going to do about... recent developments.

He's going to be expending a lot of effort and energy on his friend's behalf over the upcoming days, in other words, but Glacius has never particularly minded that. Arriving at Carlisle's bedside, he pulls back the sheets with one hand, then sets him on the ground--but keeps one arm wrapped around him for support, as he is all too aware that the clergyman is in no way capable of supporting himself at the moment.

"Take off those pants so I can wash them, too, and then get into bed," he suggests quietly. "I want you only concerned with your recovery, Carlisle... let me take care of everything else."

And Carlisle does as he's told, though he does manage to find some of his sense of shame through the fog. "Ah, I, er. If you could turn around? Though I ssssuppose it isn't anything you haven't seen already..."

Oh, but he's already not wearing a shirt. It's his pants Glacius needs. "Aheh. Or maybe you haven't."

Glacius can't very well turn around when he's still tasked with keeping the human upright, but he does nod wordlessly and then close his eyes completely. It means that Carlisle will have to direct him when it comes time to actually clamber up into the bed, but at least the alien is as adamant as ever about respecting the boundaries of others: he won't open them again until the clergyman is properly situated and concealed by the blankets of his bedding.

Seemingly satisfied with what privacy he's offered, Carlisle fumbles with his belt and his pants. Despite his lack of coordination, he does manage to get them undone, though stepping out of them proves to be problematic. He stumbles and nearly falls against Glacius, holding onto the icy giant for support.

"The clergy in ssservice of the Domu wear robes," he starts as he attempts to find his footing and make it onto the bed. His legs, much like his arms, are stiff and uncooperative. "And I've thought that- that yes, we could do that. They are rrrrrepresentative of his wings, and that seems very practical, too. An added perk."

Edited 2017-01-21 20:18 (UTC)

Though his eyes are still closed, Glacius is completely aware when Carlisle stumbles--his brow furrows and he allows himself to be tugged down, slightly, the better for the human to get the support he needs. The arm he has around the man also tightens reflexively as well, and then they're on to the bed.

"Interesting--I suppose it makes sense that the different orders wear different vestments," the ice alien responds, without opening his eyes even a crack--he's hoping that focusing on the clergyman's religion, one of his favored topics, will help him take his mind off of what's happening right now. "What of your own? I know about the door on your tabard-- but does the construction of the garments mean anything in particular?"

"In fours," Carlisle replies, though he doesn't include the rest of the context for that answer, his thought half-formed as he pulls the sheet over himself. "Though mine have been altered a few times and..."

His brow furrows, his eyes trailing down his arms. "My hands are still shaking. Makes sewing difficult sometimes, doesn't it? If I needed to make something for you, it's better left to Emily, but I- I do want to help you when I can..."

Finishing thoughts is hard when the other half of them might as well be on the other side of a brick wall.

In fours? Glacius tilts his head slightly, not understanding what that is supposed to mean at all... but he doesn't have a lot of time to think on it because the clergyman continues to prattle on under the effects of the haze, beginning to slip back into self-depreciation. The ice alien quickly attempts to reassure him--it would be much easier if he could look him his friend in the eyes, but he hasn't been told he can open them yet...

"Carlisle--remember what I said. You have done plenty for me; you have always been at my side, helping me in whatever capacity you can. Just because you sometimes have difficulty sewing doesn't make me appreciate you any less--I cherish every gesture of kindness that you have extended to me."

That seems to placate the clergyman, whose attention is drawn back to Glacius as easily as it had been pulled to his shaking hands only a second before. Glacius might hear him chuckle again before he speaks.

"You can open your eyes," Carlisle says, his voice subdued as his exhaustion hits him again. His bed is quite comfortable, soft beneath his aching joints. "You are better than a cursed being deserves, but I will endeavor to... be good enough."

That doesn't sound very confident, but he certainly looks more optimistic than he usually does, that goofy smile still worn into him.

Glacius does so when he's bid, the glowing green light of his eyes reappearing... and when he opens his eyes to see no glumness, but instead that same relaxed smile, he can't help but give a little sigh of relief. "Don't say things like that," he murmurs gently, standing at the side of the bed... though he resists the urge to lay a hand on Carlisle like he usually might, unsure of what contact is supposed to mean any more now. "You already are good enough. One of the best people in this cave that I have met."

Now he flicks on last glance over the clergyman, tucked under his bedding with his head propped up on pillows as he is. "Are you comfortable, Carlisle? Is there anything else you need of me?"

Carlisle keeps smiling, the bedding warm and heavy upon him. He feels secure-- such a rarity for him.

"This is fine," he insists softly. "I feel fine. If I could bottle this and just- just have this feeling anytime I wanted, that'd be perfect. Thank you, my friend."

He might be drowsy and drug-addled, but he means that.

Edited 2017-01-21 22:11 (UTC)

Despite his inner conflict, that pure and honest sentiment strikes at Glacius' hearts, elicits a smile both warm and fond. "Well, I'll be here any time you want, so if I'm doing my job right you should have it when you need it. Now..." he casts a quick glance in the room, finding a chair to ease his massive body down into--he's not going to depart from the room until Carlisle is resting peacefully, and even then it's only going to be long enough to wash the clergyman's various garments. "...Get some rest. I'll be watching over you."

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Event Log: Dead Ringers

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