hadriel_logs | Event Log: Jumpscares

Entry tags:

Event Log: Jumpscares

Who: All characters participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Jumpscares event
Where: All over the city!
When: May 16th-May 20th
Warnings: Some startling jumpscares, interdimensional demon cats, the usual

A dark shadow looms over Hadriel on the morning of May 16th. There's a tension in the air, something palpable, as if everything has gone still and is ready to snap. You've been waiting for the other shoe to drop for hours now, and you're getting to the point where you're starting to wish that it would just happen already so that you can stop feeling this way.

Of course, when it does happen, it's not quite like you expect.

Maybe it's a tiger leaping out of your closet, claws extended. Maybe it's a faceless slenderman, stepping out from around the corner or a monster with beak and claws ripping open your shower curtain when you're most vulnerable- but within seconds, after you've been startled half to death by the monsters, they're gone. They vanish in a puff of smoke, or dissipate into glitter, or become something silly instead for a few brief moments before disappearing entirely.

Weird. But not unendurable, I guess. The bright side is that there will also be a few demon cats that have also made their way through the door. No two cats are ever in the same location, but there seems to be enough of them to go around, though the toothy one can be a bit vicious. Still, they aren't untameable, and might make nice pets, as long as you don't mind a bloody finger or two when it's time for lunch!

► This log covers May 16th-May 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 have some heart problems that are unfortunately exacerbated by this event, please let us know here, and we're sorry.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As usual, Glacius is up and out bright and early in the morning; he's doing a routine patrol to start off his day when the unnatural sense of dread settles over him, heavy and suffocating. He can feel that... something is about to happen, and it pushes him to even greater urgency and thoroughness as he scours the city for any encroaching threats. It isn't until he arrives at Marian's lab that something finally leaps out at him, shattering that ominous feeling--only to vanish as suddenly as it had shown its face.

From there, it becomes quite apparent what the name of this game is going to be, and the warrior's course of action is made clear. The city doesn't need his help defending against illusionary specters that disappear harmlessly within the blink of an eye--he does, however, know one person who this is going to cause significant problems for. Someone whose nerves tend to gnaw at him on the best of days; he doesn't want to see Carlisle eaten alive by them, or perhaps more accurately by the condition the alien knows any excess of stress of fear can exacerbate. After correcting his mistake at the labs, Glacius immediately breaks from his patrol and returns to Spire Two, cursing under his breath when he spots an ink trail winding through the street into the towering structure. He's already taken too long.

The ice alien ascends the stairs and liquidizes under the crack in the door, reforming and immediately casting a glance around the apartment, trying to spot the clergyman. He doesn't, of course; his first thought is that Carlisle might have retreated to his closet to try and take refuge from these fake frights, but the sound of running water in the bathroom tells a different story. That only magnifies his concerns, as if the clergyman is holed up in there, it suggests that the ink dotting the ground had only been the beginning; Glacius moves to the door and lifts his hand to knock, then thinks better of making any sudden noises.

So he lifts his voice enough to be heard over the water, though he keeps his tone gentle. "Carlisle--I came back as soon as I figured out what is happening. I am sorry it took me some time, but--I am here now. I am here for you. Are you alright?"

Carlisle pulls his head out of the sink just in time to hear Glacius' voice rise over the sound of the running water. He doesn't quite catch what the alien says, which is just as well, given his automatic response:

"I'm fine!"

Or he would be if he didn't still have ink all over him. His face might be clean for the moment, but he looks as frazzled as ever when he spots his own reflection. So much for not making his partner worry.

That gets Glaicus to stop for a moment, feeling a sort of befuddlement that he can't quite place. He turns his head and then leans so that the side of it is held closer to the door.

"Sorry, I--I must have misheard you over all that running water. Can I come in?"

"What?"

The moment the question escapes Carlisle, he realizes what's wrong. The way ink gathers in his throat once more should have told him, but it's when he hears Glacius' voice and can't understand a single word he says that he knows.

"I'm fine!" he insists again, as if such insistence would fix things. He frantically washes at his face, trying to dispose of the evidence of his panic that Glacius has no doubt already seen. "I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine! I just- I just need to calm down and stop all this ink and no no no no no no STOP DRIPPING EVERYWHERE."

It's been some time since he lost his tongue; he'd thought, perhaps, that effect of the curse had vanished, or been staved off by the newfound appreciation for life he has found with Glacius. Apparently not.

Carlisle's voice rises clearly in volume, but the meaning behind the words becomes no easier to understand. Glacius' confusion and concern only rises at this realization; he's always been able to understand his partner, so why would he... not be able to now? Is that another part of this particular game of the god's? That doesn't make sense... he could understand Alphys just fine. Just what is going on here?

One thing is abundantly clear: his partner is in distress. Carlisle might be trying to wash away the evidence of his panic, but his desperate ranting is evidence enough of that on its own. Glacius cannot tell what his partner is saying to him--if he's panicking over some unseen threat, begging the alien for assistance, or insisting that he stay on the other side of that door--but he knows that he cannot risk damning the human by inaction. Gripped by fear of seeing the clergyman being prayed upon by some monster or apparition conjured by the gods, or wasting away as his own life drains from him in thick, inky rivers, the otherworldly being pushes his way into the bathroom, hoping that for once it's his imagination running away with him as he eyes fall upon his partner.

As Glacius pushes the door open, Carlisle gives his partner a half-pleading, half-guilty look. The sight that greets Glacius cannot be too comforting: ink all over the rug, ink on the counter and in the sink, ink still carving thin trails down Carlisle's neck as it runs from his mouth. The clergyman himself seems unharmed, albeit as panic-stricken as ever as he puts his hands up reassuringly, that sheepish smile pulling itself across him despite the utter worry in his brow.

"Glacius, this- I'm okay, I just panicked a bit c- coming home. There was this cat, and these shadows, and then a clown of some sort, and it's fine! I'm fine, I- I really am, I'm just- they startled me. A lot. Which might be the point, now that I think about it. Can- can you understand me? At all?"

That's what Glacius takes in first, then: though his eyes snag briefly on Carlisle, they ultimately keep scanning in the room, taking in the ink that covers many of the surfaces in the bathroom and the clergyman himself. His gaze follow the trails up to the human's mouth, and from there his glowing green eyes finally snap up to meet his partner's; concern and confusion are clear in the alien. It's a lot of ink, always a worrying sight--but normally when he's in the process of hacking this much up his partner is wracked with pain and nearing the point of collapse as his joints lock up. Here, he does not seem to be suffering too badly, except perhaps from his nerves.

That notion provides some relief, but the alien is clearly still distressed by his inability to comprehend a word of what the clergyman is saying to him. He takes another step forward, inadvertently answering Carlisle's question as he wracks his brain trying to figure out what to do here. "What is happening to you... I can't understand what you are saying to me. The gods must have done something, I-- I don't know how to help. How do I help you?"

That last question sounds like Glacius is asking it of himself as much as he is asking his tongue-tied partner. He's doing his best to tamp down the worry he's feeling, but it's hard to focus as well as he usually does when there might be something wrong with Carlisle.

Edited 2017-05-17 20:41 (UTC)

While his actual words may be a mystery, Carlisle can pick up on Glacius' tone. Judging by what sounded like a question at the end there, he assumes that no, his partner cannot understand him. That does make things complicated, and he can tell by the alien's expression that this is as puzzling as it is worrying.

"Cisth, I wish I'd explained this to you sooner," he curses himself, stepping forward to put a hand on Glacius' arm. What he lacks in verbal comprehension, he must express in other ways, and so he tries those reassuring touches to which they have become so accustomed. The way he keeps stammering might not help, however.

"See, I'm- I'm fine. I'm fine, Glacius. This- this is just a- a temporary setback, but nothing that you should w- worry about. I'll just- I'll just clean it up and calm down. Much easier now that you're here."

Carlisle places a hand on the alien's muscular arm, but it rests there for not even a moment before Glacius reaches one of his own up to take it. He gives it a squeeze, then turns it this way and that as if examining it, trying to convince himself of the clergyman's health before he goes back to just holding it again.

"I don't know what you're saying," the ice alien repeats himself, bemoaning these unfortunate circumstances. "What do I do?! This--this is all my fault. I should have come back sooner! I--I didn't want to leave the lab equipment damaged but you're far more important than some machinery... Carlisle..." Glacius hangs his head. "... I'm sorry. I--I don't know what to do. I wish I did."

If the way Glacius hangs his head is any indication, Carlisle's reassurances aren't going as well as he'd hoped. He sighs, frustration ebbing into his features.

"I swear to my goddess if that if you're apologizing right now for something that isn't your fault..." he mumbles to himself, giving Glacius' hand a squeeze as he lets out a sigh. He releases the alien's hand, putting up a finger —wait one moment— and reaches to shut off the sink.

But it's as his hand crosses the basin that he meets with another fright, riling his nerves once more. From the murky water emerges a shrieking fowl, its bright plumage dry despite having been supposedly submerged in the water. It lashes out at him, making Carlisle practically leap into Glacius' arms.

Of course, the bird doesn't stay, but rather explodes into a mountain of pink glitter as though to emphasize just how completely and utterly non-threatening it is, but the damage is apparently done as Carlisle scrambles to get behind his partner, sputtering words and ink a mile a minute. "NO! NO NO NO GO AWAY! Go away go away Glacius help bird bird bird go away!"

Over his incessant rambling comes a command, one that rings loudly enough that Glacius can surely feel it tugging against his own will: go away.

Glacius brings his head up slightly when Carlisle squeezes his hand, then tilts it to one side when the human gestures for him to wait. The alien gives a slight nod, taking that as indication that he should try to compose himself; he can't figure this out or help the clergyman if he gets bogged down feeling sorry for himself. It's just so hard to even know where to start when he has no idea what this is or what has caused it, and he can't help the niggling fear in the back of his mind that wonders whether or not they'll ever be able to communicate again--

--Glacius' train of thought is forcibly derailed when something bursts from the sink, only to explode in a cloud of some glittering pink substance a moment later. While Carlisle jumps away in terror, the ice alien stands his ground; he's a naturally hard creature to rattle, so while the first few jump scares had elicited the sort of the reaction the gods had been intending, they're starting to lose their effect now that he's been subjected to a handful of them already. Rather than dignify the thing that has already vanished with any sort of response, the alien attempts to calm his partner, who doesn't quite possess the same nerves of steel that the battle-hardened warrior does.

Glacius attempts to turn, despite how the frightened clergyman seems quite adamant about staying behind him, resulting in a few halting-half turns before he stops and tries words instead. "Carlisle! It's fine, you're fine, it's not real--" and then the alien cuts himself off with a harsh clicking curse, because of course words aren't going to work here, they haven't been working since he walked in. How is he supposed to be of any use to his partner when he can't even reassure him?

His train of thought is once again forcibly torn from its tracks-- but this time not by any machinations of the gods. There is no loud or sudden explosion of noise or perceived threat; no, it's a simple, subtle thought that slips into his mind and rings quite clear. And so, unable to understand the words spilling along with ink from Carlisle's mouth but clearly able to feel the pull of a command, Glacius starts to do the exact opposite of what his partner is frantically demanding: he starts to turn away.

... And then after a moment the command butts up against the ice alien's natural protectiveness, and he locks up completely, every joint and muscle frozen in place. Why would he go away? Carlisle needs him; he's clearly not coping well with all these random jolts of fright on his own, and he's always claimed that the ice alien provides him with a sense of security and peace during otherwise tumultuous times. The clerygman's command might be telling him to leave, but his will mandates that he stay and continue trying to help his partner in whatever ways that he can--and when he is not suffering grievous injuries or a shattered emotional state, it is an indomitable force, one that will not be overturned. It cycles a few times against Carlisle's curse as if testing the strength of this new will, gradually weakening the clergyman's compulsion as it does so... and then its hold finally breaks. Glacius lifts his head suddenly, then shakes it as a snort gusts from his nostrils--and now he does turn fully to face the human. There's no anger in those glowing green eyes as Carlisle might expect of someone whose will he just tried to bend, albeit inadvertently; no, there's just a glimmering of understanding.

Carlisle needs to calm down, that much is apparent... and so, unable to soothe him with words, he tries to fall back on gestures that are now well-established between the two of them. Glacius extends his hands and lowers his forehead towards his partner, attempt to cradle his face in a comforting at the same time as he offers up their signature expression of solidarity and support.

As Glacius turns away from him, preparing to leave, Carlisle panics even more -- it's not out of fear of the glitter bird from the sink or the fact he's struggling to understand what's going on, but that he knows what he's done. He could feel it, his own aural compulsion turning on even Carlisle himself as well as everyone around him. He can't leave, though. He can't escape the fear that constantly stalks him, a hungry predator stalking after an easy meal. There is a reason he's sure Fear favors him.

Carlisle stammers after Glacius as the alien stops, trying to put order to his thoughts. "Oh no. No no no no. Glacius, w- wait, don't leave! Don't leave me here, please! I- I—"

Though his words are still a garbled mess of another language, his tone might be recognizable -- it's the same panic he had when he thought Glacius might abandon him without his glasses, that sort of frenzied torrent of apologetic, desperate rambling. Carlisle knows he did this, though -- he's the one who just told Glacius to leave, didn't he? Why would the alien stay?

He curls in on himself, missing as Glacius turns to him. In his guilt, it slipped Carlisle's mind why the alien might stay despite the command: because Glacius' will is strong, and his compassion for the clergyman even stronger. As Glacius brings himself closer, Carlisle understands, no words needed -- he presses his forehead to the alien's, letting out a shaky sigh.

"Thank you," he utters just before burying himself against his partner, trying to shut out the world. "Thank you for not leaving me with- with everything."

Edited 2017-05-18 03:09 (UTC)

Glacius sighs as well, pleased that his bid to reassure his partner has worked, that the clergyman doesn't end up slipping deeper and deeper into his panic. His badly fraying nerves seem to be agitating his curse in a particular way here... the alien isn't sure why that is, or why it's different from the other times his condition has acted up, but he knows the situation must be handled with care regardless. He knows his course of action here is the same as it always has been, despite the added layer of confusion.

He must calm and ground his partner in any way that he can--so the otherworldly being immediately allows Carlisle to shelter up against him, crooning softly as he runs one hand through his partner's hair. He's not sure if he actually understood the brief murmur that preceded the clergyman's burrowing against him, or if his mind simply heard what it wanted to; however, as Carlisle continues on there is no room for doubt, and Glacius can't help the deep, rumbling chuckle that gradually wells up out of his chest. It's not a sound of amusement as it is utter relief, as feeling things starting to return to normal between them is the same sort of salve that getting his partner back after anything that threatens them is.

"I did promise you I would always stand by you," the ice alien murmurs, his voice quiet, but filled with care. "What kind of partner would I be if I did not honor my word?"

"One doing what he was told," Carlisle returns, pulling in a breath. His apologies spill forth, fresh ink coming with them. "I'm- I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to do that to you, Glacius. I'm sorry and I never meant to push you away, I just- I wanted the bird gone and I panicked and it just- it was a reaction and I am truly, deeply sorry and I will- I will make this up to you somehow, if you'll just give me the chance, as- as I—"

He manages to stop himself, but just barely as he coughs heavily. The guilt is heavier, though. It always is.

That frenetic, guilt-laden string of apologies is enough to cause Glacius to immediately redouble his efforts to soothe Carlisle; he cradles the clergyman's face gently, rubbing his forehead against the human's in a soothing manner, doing whatever he can to keep them as close as can be. "Shh, Carlisle. It's fine, I understand... I know you're just scared and in distress."

And whose fault is that? Wretched fucking gods, orchestrating an event that is clearly made to prey upon the more skittish of Hadriel's inhabitants--that is exacerbating his partner's condition after they seemed to be getting a better handle on it. The ice alien feels a powerful upwelling of disgust and anger on behalf of the frazzled human before him, but does his best keep it from bleeding into his demeanor. He can't get worked up; he needs to keep Carlisle grounded, to try to work him towards calm, not agitation.

So he chirps softly, turning one hand to brush his knuckles over the clergyman's cheek in a tender, soothing gesture. "It's not your fault. Alright? I need you to believe that. It's not your fault--none of it is. I love you, you don't have to make anything up to me when I chose to be here."

Glacius might be trying to work Carlisle away from agitation, but the clergyman himself veers back toward it, though from frustration rather than fear. It's as though what nervous energy he had focused on apologies redirects toward anger.

"I was trying to relax," he croaks out, his throat raspy from the coughing. His expression twists, brows knitting tightly as ire rises in him, his fingers curling against Glacius' icy shell. "And this c- cat kept appearing before me. And I thought nothing of it at first, b- but he'd be there one moment, the not the next, and I thought th- that it an agent of the false gods. I headed home, but all of these- these things kept appearing for no reason other than to- to—"

He hacks into his hand, black liquid seeping between his fingers. He needs to calm down, and yet, he continues. "I have felt it at the back of my neck all day. That lingering need t- to look over my should at all times, as though something might be following me, ready to pounce."

Glacius starts to frown, but his expression is overridden by concern as Carlisle starts to hack again. He stops stroking his partner's face, which seems to have done little to placate him, and instead tries to tilt his chin up so that he can examine the clergyamn.

"I felt it, too. It is most certainly the work of the gods, attempting to prey upon our fear," the alien replies. "But these apparitions are harmless--we must try our best not to be afraid. And that is why I am here, Carlisle; you needn't look over your shoulder when you have me watching your back."

"It's not even that I'm afraid," Carlisle mutters as Glacius examines him. "Just... just spooked again and again, each one shaking me worse, like cracks in a dam."

No ink from under his eye, nor from his nails, but the way his nerves wear on him is evident in the way ink still trips from his jaw. Given Glacius' familiarity with Carlisle, he may be able to feel the quiet surge of energy channeling through him with every cough, repairing any damage that would be done from his more violent fits, but also wearing him thin.

"And how are we to know what is and isn't harmless of these apparitions?" he asks, his eyes darting throughout the room as he stifles another cough; it lingers in his throat, itching. "What if we get lulled into a false sense of security, only to find out we truly are in danger?"

Glacius certainly can detect the way Carlisle is fraying apart at the seams, both mentally and physically; though his eyes and nails may not be weeping, ink dripping from any part of the clergyman is always cause for concern. Usually, these sort of symptoms proceed a more damaging deterioration; it's his job as the human's partner to prevent this from going any further. He has to keep him safe, after all--and that doesn't just end at external forces.

So when Carlisle starts to lose himself to his nerves again, Glacius acts immediately, exhaling from his nostrils as he places both hands firmly on the clergyman's shoulders. "We can't know for sure, you are right... but what I am certain of is that you are already being harmed by your own worries. You are letting yourself get worn down, Carlisle... you are hurting yourself." And now the ice alien's tone goes soft again, hoping that the care behind his words and his gestures will remind Carlisle that he needn't face this alone. "I need you to trust in me... please. If we are in danger I will see to it, but right now, we must see to you. I will not cease in my efforts until I have found some way to bring you peace of mind, my partner."

"I know, but—"

Carlisle cuts himself off with an undignified grunt. He wants to argue; he wants to fume angrily at the gods for getting him so worked up over something that would be trivial to others, or gripe about how they are abominations in their own right, as beings who seek to control the very emotions their prisoners would feel. However, that's not productive in the slightest, and Carlisle knows it, especially when said venting would be at his partner, who is trying his very best to calm him down. They both know well enough that the expulsion of ink is not a good sign, nor is it conducive for his health.

Despite his frazzled nerves and building frustrations, Carlisle silently acknowledges Glacius is right with a nod. His paranoia riles his energies, which make him cough up ink, making him channel more energy through him to mend any damage done to his throat and ribs. It's a vicious cycle that drains immensely on his health, a cycle he often cannot break on his own. Exhaustion usually does it for him.

He has other options, now. "I know," he tries again, quieter. "I know, I- you are perfectly capable of protecting us from any true threats that would find us."

He brings his hand to rest atop Glacius; he needs that support. "Let's- let us go somewhere else. Somewhere without the sink and the mirror and- and anywhere else such sudden frights might appear. Just until- until my heart stops feeling as though it is trying to escape my chest."

Glacius certainly wouldn't mind Carlisle venting to him if it would help--but right now the priority must be on making sure his partner doesn't slip into that insidious, gripping exhaustion that clings to him for days and days, so perhaps it's best that he saves his energy. The alien's expression becomes tinted with fondness as the clergyman makes an active effort to dial himself back down and listen to him; that in and of itself is already a display of trust, listening to the otherworldly being and letting him take the reigns for the time being, and he appreciates it.

So Glacius turns his hand over and clasps his partner's, giving him a gentle, appreciative smile as he does so. "I think I know just the place. Come." The alien begins to stand, but does not rise fully just yet--instead he opens his arms, as if inviting Carlisle to climb into them. While he's more than capable of just snatching the clergyman up--and has done so in the past, when times have been more dire--right now he wants to offer his partner agency in this decision. It's his hope that he'll accept the physical gesture of support, and that maybe Carlisle will find refuge from all of this in his arms as he has before.

That's an invitation Carlisle readily takes, stepping closer toward Glacius as hacks into his hand once more. It's hard to remember, at times like these, just how much things have changed since his arrival in Hadriel: no proper Longinmouth would opt to be carried away, lest they show weakness. Carlisle himself is so generally averse to touch that it's a feat to get him to make physical contact with anyone for any reason other than healing... but here he is, depending so much on another, so trusting of his partner that he'd allow Glacius to take him anywhere without question.

And not a moment too soon, as he sees a dark shape looming on his periphery, a reflection in the mirror waiting for him to face it before lashing out for a terrible fright. Carlisle stiffens in Glacius' arms, forcing himself to look away, his eyes locking on the alien's muscular arm and his own, ink-stained hands.

"Th- the mirror, Glacius," he warns.

Things have changed for the both of them, then, for not all that long ago Glacius used to be so wary of humans that he would never dream of letting one get close enough to touch him. Hell, when he first showed up here he'd been afraid to let them so much as know of his existence for fear of what would happen. Now some of the wounds of the past have been soothed over by the kindness he's received, his perception of humanity beginning to shift for the better... and Carlisle has been pivotal in that shift. Of course he'd let the clergyman into his personal space; of course he would honor his partner's trust by doing whatever he can for him.

That includes keeping him safe from random frights; the ice alien immediately turns away from the mirror at Carlisle's warning, walling any view of it off with his bulk as he starts to walk them out of the bathroom. Though he almost always walks with a bearing both proud and upright, now he's hunched protectively over his partner, back bent and head bowed, trying to cover the clergyman as much as possible.

"Is that better? Or does the feeling persist?" Glacius asks quietly. If the latter, he's probably going to have to set Carlisle down somewhere safer and go draw out the scare himself... which he doesn't mind doing, but he'd rather not leave his partner's side at the moment.

"Both," Carlisle answers, his tone just as quiet as Glacius', "though it persists even without the threat of another scare looming nearby. I assume it is simply in the air, as the false deities here would have it."

He sighs, pushing his hands under his glasses, his palms pressing into his eyes. In the meantime, the witch in the mirror waits patiently for either of them to turn around, as conjured characters such as her have no real sense of urgency.

"What I would give to not be so pathetic during times like these," he mumbles, recalling Shadow's words to him. He might not have the urge to drink himself to death in his closet anymore when thinking of the hedgehog, but his insults still sting.

Even a creature normally as cool-heaed as Glacius would be enraged to hear of such insults; thinking this is simply more of his partner's usual and unfortunate self-degradation, the ice alien blinks down at his partner and frowns.

"You're not pathetic," the otherworldly replies, "Like you said, it is the gods orchestrating everything around us and within us, tugging at the strings of our emotion. You cannot be blamed for this fear any more than I could be blamed for... impaling myself with my shatter, or injuring an innocent, or anything else unbecoming or detestable that I have done while under the influence of the gods. So do not be so hard on yourself; your energy would be better invested trying to reassure yourself."

HERE FOR YOU BUD

\o/

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