Event Log: Patron Gods

[hadrielmods]

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Patron Gods event!
Where: All around the city
When: March 15th-March 20th
Warnings: The gods choose you! Whether you choose them back is your call.

It's March 15th! Whether or not you've been having a good or a bad week, the gods decided to get together and put all the characters on teams- just like in those gym classes that you always skipped! Whether or not you were the last one picked is up for debate, but until we can figure that particular mystery out, there's another one to mull over... namely, who left that mysterious note in your bedside table/shoe/fishtank? And how did you get a friendship bracelet twined around your wrist?

Regardless, when opened, the letter will say-

'Congratulations! You have been chosen! [God name] thinks you're a great fit for their team! All you have to do is spread their emotion, and you'll get a blessing - and if your team wins, you get the grand prize: one (1) request for each member of the team, no payment required! Or you can band together and request one big thing, it's all up to you! So find your allies, get started, and let's win this thing!'

Whether or not this is for real becomes immediately obvious, as you seem to find yourself yearning to cooperate with your teammates, and maybe feeling a bit competitive toward your foes. Grab a squeaky chicken or a creepy doll or a snowglobe from the shops if you like, and let's get inspiring! Of course, you aren't forced to participate, but have fun telling your teammates that nobody is going to win their wish because you decided to be a stick in the mud.

Go forth and spread joy! Or sorrow, or scare people, or just really piss them off- but whatever you do, try to have fun and build that sense of community! You're going to need it...

► This log covers March 15th-March 20th.
► 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 you're just so mad at the gods that you'd rather die than participate, then let us know here!

Comments

[skelebro]

He don't jump when her fists bang down on the table, though it's a near thing. People this twitchy tend to react explosively when they're back into corners, and that's precisely what he's doin' now. And for a second, just a hair of a second, her gaze flickers over to his and then is gone again.

But it's an admission, and it's something.

"Okay."

He keeps his tone steady, the words level, and pushes away from the table once more, hands returning to their well-worn homes in his pockets.

He's tryin' to get better at gettin' to the etiology of things rather than simply letting 'em fester. Difference here bein' that Marian ain't a kid, but he also ain't a mind-reader. They got off on the wrong foot for certain, but for once, it weren't much his fault.

Weren't much hers either.

So let's start simple. Clean. Direct.

"Why?"

[einselective]

Now, Marian appreciates a direct conversation. But if Sans thinks they're going to end up having a reasonable talk after she's gotten that worked up, he's got another think coming. Getting to the root of the problem is a always something she's aimed for in technical problem-solving. On a personal level... not so much, when it means going back into memories best forgotten.

And although she's thought about it several times, talking about these kinds of problems conflicts with her own personal pride. Maybe she will talk about it now, sooner than later. But certainly not with one of the direct objects of her fears standing right in front of her, with this unshakable feeling in her heart that he has to be after something, that there's something going on with him and the darkness of those eyesockets...

"J-just get out," she snarls, starting to shake perceptibly, just a little. "Get out. I'll t-tell Alphys you w-were here..."

[skelebro]

Well, he figured this was goin' well enough, up until he struck an apparent personal chord. Chara insists he get to the why, dig on in to the marrow of things. Now the doc here's implying that he shouldn't even bother. So which is it, huh?

"This ain't your place, Doc," he says, slowly. "In fact, I was kinda pals with the owners when they were still around. I got every right to be here."

He was here when the whole thing was put together in the first place. Keepin' it plenty warm and well-trodden in case -

Who's he kiddin'. It ain't a guarantee. It ain't even a little bit likely, despite the fact that it worked out as such with Chris. There's no guarantee at all. But it's the principle of thing, ain't it?

Something like that.

[einselective]

Let's not forget that it's fight or flight, and Marian's riding well over the cusp of that catastrophe curve. Even if she didn't think Sans would just be here waiting hours from now, like he had last time, the idea she could just fast-forward away from him... she'd only just started to feel settled in here, was unsure but on good enough terms with Alphys, moved the junk she'd been collecting over the first couple months here and had started actually doing something rather than nothing.

"They're not here any more, are they?! So what part... of g-get out... didn't you understand?"

And that's about the point where she grabs the plastic base off the fan she'd been disassembling off the table and hurls it in his direction.

Even if her throw wasn't terrible, she doesn't expect it to actually hit him. She's seen more than she ever wanted to see of teleportation, and how ineffective anything conventional was against an ability like that -- it's more of a fruitless effort borne of terror and frustration than anything intentionally harmful.

[skelebro]

She's right; it doesn't hit him. He skates to one side easily, somehow without actually moving any. It's less like he's blipped through space as is typical, and more like he simply ended up a couple feet to the left.

He got good at dodging things early on. Had to. When you only got 1 HP, there's no margin for error. Not even a little. The plastic crashes against the blackboard, clattering against the floor. He steadiest the thing with one hand before it follows suit.

"This place ain't yours, Doc," he repeats, low and even. "You don't got any right to kick me out just 'cause you don't like lookin' at me."

[einselective]

Yep, just as expected. Mostly, back when these things happened, in her world, she ran. How do you fight anything that can warp space around it? And yet for a half second she finds her own crazed train of thought asking once again what she has around, what would even have a chance of harming him. Crazy thoughts.

But pushed enough, rational thought has a hard time prevailing. "S-so what, you stay here all d-day, tormenting me, is that it? Is that the kind of s-sick game you're playing?!"

[skelebro]

"Tormenting?" He arches a supraorbital ridge in a fluid upward lift of bone - way more pliable than bone should be, but bone nonetheless. "Doc, I'm just standing here. We don't even gotta make conversation if you don't want. But I got somethin' that needs doing here, and I need this space to do it."

Putting together some speakers and extension cords, more specifically. But he doubts she cares what it is he's planning on busying himself on doing. Knowin' her, she'll probably assume it's some kinda diabolical plot or another.

[einselective]

Which is a pretty fair assumption. With Sans refusing to leave, and herself powerless to actually make him do so, everything swings back around again to fleeing. She can't handle this, and active acknowledgement of the fact that it's absurd that she's getting this worked up over nothing but the feeling of dread itself... is feeding back around into her anxiety about the whole situation. Everything is just horribly wrong. She's got to get out.

But... there's still the matter of all her things. The papers, parts she'd scavenged.

"Then come back... later... s-so I have time to move my t-things b-because I'm leaving," Marian sputters, redirecting that anxious energy to whirling around and gathering the pile of papers. She can at least save her notes. Come back for the rest later, if she has to.

[skelebro]

"Uh...whaddaya think I'm gonna do, exactly?" He eyes her and her wave function with a mild sorta amusement, as though wondering how much she expects to scrub the place clean so that he don't get his...what? His bonyprints all over the place?

"Hey, you don't have worry." He cocks his skull, even if she's doin' her absolute best not to look at him. She's evidently got a full awareness that this ain't exactly rational, but seems unwilling to actually address the issue - at least to his face. Or lack thereof. "I don't even leave fingerprints."

[einselective]

That's not exactly reassuring. Is he implying that he is going to mess with her things? She grabs an open container of the few ICs she'd pulled off a couple circuit boards. What else? That's the two most important things. Maybe the rest can wait.

"I d-don't know! B-but I can't s-stay here any more!" Can't work with him in her space. Maybe he'll just claim wherever she moves to next, too. But either way, she can't think rationally about any of this, not right now. Got to leave. And if he won't go first, she will, turning on her heel and rushing for the door.

[skelebro]

...fine. Great.

Progress with her is like takin' two steps forward and seven steps back. He watches her go without moving before uttering a low hum of sound that approximates a sigh, not that anybody's around to hear it. He'll get to work fixin' up his speakers, and he'll leave.

Simple as that.

Better luck next time.