( log ten | open | i'm worn out from wandering around lost all night )

[dedikated]

Who: Kate & Anyone? Everyone?
What: So, how do you cope with a) your best friend dying, b) your best friend's evil twin burning down two of the gods' temples, c) your best friend's evil twin throwing your biggest weaknesses in your face on the network, d) killing your best friend's evil twin in a very brutal fashion, e) your best friend's punishment being delayed revival and (we suppose) f) killing your own evil twin in a less brutal fashion?
If you said: by drinking yourself into a stupor, you'd be right, and probably a good friend for Kate.
Where: The Bar
When: After the doubles event ends (i.e. the 25th, ish) - 30th
Warnings: Uh. See summary? Basically a lot of drinking, allusions to violence, torture, murder, self-hatred. The usual things in a murdercave.


( It's quiet again.

The network has stopped lighting up with messages from "people" (god-manufactured pieces of shit-) confessing to all the ways they're less than perfect, demonstrating the darkness that exists beyond what's shown day in and day out-

But truth be told, Kate's barely paid heed to a word of it since Faith and both their doubles crumpled to the floor in still heaps, not breathing, hearts not beating, blood flowing out of their chest cavities like-

She'd rather not think about it.

She'd rather drink.

Which is exactly what she does, every night that she eventually gives up on waiting outside what was once Hope's temple, when her restlessness is unavoidable and the rubble is too much to bear. She makes her way to Delight's bar without hopping rooftops, without any speed, walking as if she's nothing more than human, for once.

(Is she really anything more? Can you consider yourself anything more than human, than fallable and flawed, when you've let your best friend die, when you've given into the darkness that these last few days has dangled in front of you, sing-songing that no matter what you do, you're still the monster who did those things in the first place?)

The bar's usual warmth, its odd little aura of happiness, does nothing. Her shoulders are still tense, her steps still heavy. She orders shots instead of a beer, instead of coffee. Instead of any of the things those who see her here on a frequent basis might be used to her drinking, knocks them back without flinching.

If someone comes too close, comes to the empty seat at the bar next to her, she'll just shrug; ) Sure. It's free.

( If she bothers to look, she might offer a nod of recognition or greeting, even order a shot for you, as well. )

( feel free to respond in prose or wildcard. Bump into her on the way to/from the bar, whatever! )

Comments

[sleepdarts]

( The tea Ana manages to find in the bar isn't the same sweetness, or anything as proper as the tea she usually drinks, but it'll do. It's hardly the first time that she's been in a situation where she's had to go without it -- war makes it something you get used to.

She just hadn't expected a war here. No, not a war but a struggle of some other kind. This time was far more personal, with reports of duplicates of people, and them killing the other. She'd seen in it the aerial battle of Fareeha's, and in the messages sent by some of these duplicates.

And she can see it on the woman's face now, that something has indeed happened -- something to affect her so )

They will return, so I am told.

( Though how comforting that is-- return how? The fact that they had died to begin with was unfortunate, and more )

[dedikated]

( She hasn't met enough of the newcomers in recent months. Too busy with busywork to really meet people. Her trips to the Colosseum have mostly been to simply scope out the monsters and see what powers they have, to make sure her enchantments work on them too.

Kate's eyes slide back into focus once the tequila burns down her throat, and she glances at the other woman, takes a moment to regain some sort of mental foothold in the present, rather than in the fuzzy world of semi-tipsy existence. )

I know. ( She clears her throat, waits before ordering more. ) Died a couple months ago.

( That comes out with too much ease, as though it's a simple confirmation. Sky's blue. Grass is green.

Faith's still not here. )

Just... seems like it's taking too long.

[sleepdarts]

Hopefully the reason for that would be a favourable one.

( Ana isn't sure what that could possibly be but the alternative was that her friend was never coming back, and that wasn't something to look forward to. Ana knew that much )

Who are they?

[dedikated]

( The reason for that will probably be clearer to someone not consumed by drinking away her sorrows. )

Faith. Red hair. Fire powers. ( She takes a shot and clears her throat. ) Her- ( this gets an indistinct wave of her hand, where she tries to grasp for a proper word for the doubles. ) clone were setting fire to the temples.

( Christ, she needs more to drink, because thinking about Faith's clone just brings about hot flashes of memories, of Faith's death, of killing both their clones in front of the clinic. )

[sleepdarts]

I remember her.

( The double, anyway, and there's a distaste to Ana's words. She'd considered putting the woman down herself )

I suppose your friend is unlike her? The double of my daughter was only somewhat similar.

( At least she hopes that Fareeha wouldn't try to kill her )

[so_dark_a_road]

[ Curufin comes into the bar and sees Kate sitting there looking dejected and perhaps still stunned (quite understandably) by the events of this past week. He approaches and raises his eyebrows, indicating the seat beside her. Getting a weary affirmative response, he slides onto the barstool and orders whiskey. He takes a sip and then tosses the rest down. It warms him. ]

How is it going?

[ He speaks softly, turning the shot glass in his hands and watching the way the soft interior lighting plays on the faceted glass. ]

[dedikated]

( Numb might be the right word to use. She's shuttered down like stores after closing time, blank in expression and movements lazy and slow. She opts for another tequila, because god only knows one can never really be buzzed enough in a place like this. )

Had worse days. ( She glances at the small glass placed in front of her, toys with it for a moment before knocking the clear liquid back, foregoing the accompanying salt and lime - or lime-like fruit - altogether. ) Can't think of 'em. Had 'em, though.

( Even Marc's death, even her parents' murders... Well, they were one-day blips in the scheme of things. Sudden spikes of horror in the midst of normalcy. Not part of an ongoing conga line of events that seem set to break a person. )

What about you?

[so_dark_a_road]

[ Gulping down the hard stuff as a remedy for pain, that's a strategy Curufin himself uses at times. He's using it now. In fact, he decides to switch to tequila just to keep Kate company. ]

I've definitely had worse days. That's if I consider losing my brothers and dying myself as a worse day. [ Ironic chuckle. ]

But this last week, I've lost a friend as well as some coworkers. And you? -- I guess Faith was a friend of yours?

[dedikated]

( She'd wonder, if she wasn't so busy drinking away pain, how many of them already did this before coming here and how many just developed the habit after months of being subjected to this torment. )

'S a pretty shit day. ( Dying sucked. Losing Marc sucked more.

Losing Faith-

Christ, she's not even sure where to rank that right now. Instead, Kate just nods. )

From home.

( It's not like there's anything to be secretive about.

Just.

Fuck. How could she have failed her, too? )

[unitas]

[ Sharon slides into the seat next to Faith without much of a word, a quick flick of her fingers to order a couple more shots, taking one and downing it back the moment they're set before them. It sort of feels like life in this hellhole has just been getting worse and worse, like they're dealing with worse—or maybe it's just the simple fact that, mentally, Sharon sort of feels like she's on the brink of something.

Snapping, maybe. The return home gave her a brief moment of respite but the memories of Hadriel came crowding back, wave after wave, crushing hopes and dreams and introducing her to her reality again. She had to kill herself, watched as other people killed themselves, their others; watched as people opened up about the worst of themselves.

The gods just can't seem to stop themselves from causing their refugees pain. She slams another shot back and with a wiggle of her fingers, two more are slid their way. ]

I take it you're not doing all right. [ It's not a question. This event has thrown them all through the blender and the wounds it's left behind still hurt. ]

[dedikated]

( Who knows? So much of this place oscillates between quiet, boredom and nothingness, and absolute chaos, that it could drive most men to madness. Leaves a person constantly on edge, waiting for the next disaster to fall.

(Is it just getting worse, or are they just losing their patience-)

Kate's not drunk enough to miss the chances to Sharon's appearance - that her hair's fresher than before, the blonde back in place instead of roots galore - or the way Sharon throws back those shots, because Kate's done it like that too many times. Quick. No hesitation between the two. )

No.

( There's no point lying about it, the situation feels all but written on her face; a stark, sore spot like the bright red lash of a whip. )

You either.

( It's not a question. How many people can be alright here? How many people are going to look down the barrel of the worst things about themselves and come out with a smile?

(She can think of one. But she's dead.) )

[unitas]

I could be worse. [ Sharon admits to Kate, fingering her next shot on the counter, sloshing the alcohol so that it barely touches the lip of the glass. She's not going to throw back another, not until the first two hit. She should probably quit drinking one day because she acknowledges that it might be a Problem but then Some Bitch Ass God thinks to themselves Let's stir the pot and any semblance of self-control or desire to quit spirals down the drain as she struggles to right herself again.

Fuck this place. ]

I'm just wondering which of our current deities I need to fuck over for this last spell.

[ And she can tell, just by the way Kate sits—just from the fact that she's alone in her current state—that Faith is likely dead, maybe killed by her double (or worse, Kate's). Her double sure was a cheerfully destructive. She wants to ask but refrains (she always refrains from digging because those holes aren't hers to dig in). ]

You wanna talk? [ But she does want to dig. Or help, at least. She's not great with advice. Not great at a lot, really, but she can listen. She's good at that. ]

[dedikated]

( She probably should follow Sharon's lead, wait a bit, but nothing hits fast enough when you just want to forget everything that's going on. When you need to forget how many days you've been trekking back and forth to Hope's temple knowing that the skip-jump of your heart, the foggy, imagined pictures of your friend lying there, alive and well, are just futile dreams reality will soon quash.

Instead, she knocks back one more, slams the glass on the counter just a bit too loudly and snorts. )

Who fuckin' knows any more.

( Could be confusion, since everyone suddenly having twins is pretty confusing. Sorrow, maybe. He must be getting a hell of a power boost from the amount of people left broken by this event.

The last question gets a shake of her head. ) Not drunk enough for that.

( Not yet. )

post bar binge!

[gymnast]

[ When people told Allison that the gods really liked fucking with people here, she never expected this: doubles running around causing destruction, death, and all around chaos. She seems to be one of the lucky few that didn't have an impostor of herself running around, or at least it never came looking for her or caused enough trouble for people to bring it to her attention. Still, it's been hard to avoid and she feels absolutely terrible for those having to deal with it personally.

Walking the streets seems like a fairly bad idea but she's on her way back to her apartment when, up ahead coming out a the bar, she sees a vaguely familiar head of pink hair. It's possible she's got the wrong person but Allison quickens her steps a bit, hoping it's the right person (and the right version of the right person) when she calls out, ] Kate!

[ It's a reminder that she really needs to make it to the clinic to start volunteering, like she said she would; maybe she'd be able to chat with her a bit more about it as they make their respect ways home. ]

[dedikated]

( You never really expect any of it. Even with the months she has under her belt (closer to a year than Kate likes to think), Kate can never predict how they'll top the disaster this time. Doesn't often think they can. What could be worse than walking into others' dreams, or the demons that entered through tears in the air?

And yet, somehow, they manage it.

(She misses the zombies. They were more frustrating than scary, horrific. Slow, easy to kill. Nothing but walking target practice.)

But she's on her way back, still half-buzzed, alcohol making her mind swim, delaying her reaction. )

Aye?

( Wait a second. She's-

Nope. She's got nothing. ) ... Who're you?

( Charming. )

right, they talked over text. I'LL JUST USE RP MAGIC TO FIX THAT,

[gymnast]

Oh, right, [ Allison says, offering a bit of an awkward laugh as well as extending her hand to introduce herself. ] I'm Allison. I offered to volunteer at the clinic and swung by for a couple of those classes you guys offer there?

[ Maybe they'd never actually been formally introduced, but Kate had been pointed out to her at least and honestly it's hard to miss (or forget) hair her color. ]

B)

[dedikated]

( Sorry, Allison. It's never fun to be stuck dealing with the delayed reactions and bleary eyes of a drunk person, her slow uptake on shaking hands. But you are. )

Right. ( Her eyes do light up with recognition now though, pieces slotting into place and - once she lets go of Allison's hand - bringing fingers to her temples to try and rub away some of the alcohol induced haze in her brain. )

Can I help you?

The Bar

[knifecollecting]

[Jo is not a stranger to people drinking their grief. Hunters did it all the time. She did it more than she would admit if asked.

She's tempted to leave Kate alone, but it looks like the girl is lonely enough. She sits next to the pink haired woman, staying quiet for a moment.]

Want a drinking partner?

[dedikated]

Sure.

( How many nights has she been coming here, since Faith died? First just to take off the edge, the memories of what the doubles had done and those of what she'd done. Then, as the days progressed without any sign of her friend rising from the ruins of Hope's temple, it was more to block out everything: the voices saying you failed and you know, she just might not come back, the insomnia that kept creeping in if she wasn't quite drunk enough when she got back to their now-empty house, too big for two people, never mind one.

Kate pushes a shot glass towards Jo, knocks her own back with a hiss, and leans back in her barstool, clamping her hands on the edge of the bar to keep her balance, to stretch. )

How drunk you looking to get?

[knifecollecting]

Drunk enough to just barely make it back to my place? [She salutes with the offered shot glass before knocking it back like Kate just had. It burns, but when does it never.]

What about yourself?

[dedikated]

As long as I can sleep tonight. ( She doesn't really care if sleeping is sleeping in her bed, or sleeping-passed-out-on-the-bar. If she's unconscious, it's good enough. )

YES

[dedikated]

( It takes her a moment too. By now, she's been here so many nights that offering a drink to anyone who comes by is second nature, asking for two shots instead of one.

Faith's back. By all rights, Kate should be fine. Should have bounced back and stopped coming here to drown sorrows. But Faith is a stubborn mess and Kate can't do anything to stop it, doesn't know the right words to snap her out of apologising for something a twisted version of herself did.

So. Alcohol.

It's only when she turns to raise her glass that she notices who she's sat with. )

Who died?

( Not the most sensitive thing to say right now, probably. But the most honest. Someone's always dead, here. )

[dedikated]

Dunno. Recently. ( Someone always seems to be dying, and Shadow's all but screaming misery of some sort. It's just a logical leap in this place, isn't it? No matter how much she attempts to see some positives, to try and understand that the gods need to feed off emotions the same way she needs vegetables or meat, at the end of the day, they're still dying for these assholes to have their power. Dying and coming back, like they're trapped in some endless nightmare cycle. )

Someone always does.