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

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."

As Glacius turns reasoning Carlisle has used before back on him, the clergyman cannot help but relent. He sighs again into his hands, not yet removing them from his eyes.

"I suppose I would do well to pay no heed to the words of... former friends. As a being who seemed to delight in unnerving me, I'm sure he would find this situation terribly amusing."

And just like that, Glacius seems to put two and two together; he only knows of one former friend that has been giving Carlisle so much grief, after all. The alien huffs in disgust, looking down at the clergyman in his arms. "Then he is a heartless wretch, and you are right to not listen to him. No friend would find amusement in the suffering or fright of another. Besides, I can say for certain that I know you better than him... and I know you are not a coward. So don't waste any more time fretting over his words. It is not his place to cast judgment upon you."

Glacius' fervent defense actually brings out a smile out of Carlisle. He pulls his hands from his eyes, looking up to his partner.

"Thank you, m—"

"BOO!"

As it turns out, phantasmal witches conjured for the sole purpose of scaring people can get bored, as the moment the clergyman raises his gaze to meet Glacius' eyes, he is met with those of a terrifying visage instead. From the ceiling now rather than the mirror, a withered hag looks down upon him, her skin hanging loosely from her body, her eyes a demonic red as she cackles from above. Even her curved nose is unsettling, so much like the beak of a hideous woman-bird.

If it were possible for Carlisle to burrow straight into Glacius, he just might have; however, as that is not an option, he instead panics in his grasp, trying to escape his arms so he can hide behind him instead, putting the wall of an icy warrior between himself and the latest fright to come after him.

Edited 2017-05-20 02:34 (UTC)

Unfortunately, desperately attempting to tear yourself from your partner's grip when he's holding you close and literally hunching over you is bound to have some unintended sideffects. As Carlisle twists and struggles, his knee drives right up into the alien's throat; Glacius gives a startled, pained wheeze as is major airway is struck, falling to his knees--though to his credit, he does not drop his partner painfully to the ground. One hand stays around the clergyman while he brings the other up to his injured throat, rubbing at it as hacks and coughs.

Should Carlisle want to get behind the alien's bulk, he'll be able to slip the rest of the way from his grasp to do so now, though it... might not offer as much protection as it usually does when he's bent over like this, trying to get some breath back.

With the witch still cackling gleefully over Glacius' shoulder, Carlisle wrenches himself the rest of the way from the alien's grasp, skittering behind him on the floor. He pulls his knees to him and curls as tightly as he can, as though he could disappear if he were completely out of the apparition's sight. Yet, he can still feel her there, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as if reaching out to her, drawing her closer to him. He mumbles into his hands, her raucous laughter so loud in the small room.

"Please... stop."

And then there's Glacius, his protector, hacking and coughing behind him. In his terror, he'd struck his partner. He hadn't meant to do it. He hadn't meant for any of this.

"Stop. Stop stop stop."

Carlisle's heart thunders heavily in his chest, the pounding starting up again so suddenly that it hurts. He can feel each beat reverberating into his neck, pulsating behind his eye. His fingers tear into his hair, as though it'd provide him grounding. With every word that escapes him, his voice is more and more ragged, his throat closing as ink bubbles from it once more.

"Stop! Please stop! Why will you not leave me be!?"

The witch keeps howling, her voice shrill against Carlisle's; however, his is the one that pulls against one's very will. The tug is weak for the moment, but as his panic rises, it gets stronger, more desperate to find purchase.

Edited 2017-05-20 09:58 (UTC)

Once again, Glacius doesn't react to the jumpscare, but that could simply be because he has his own problems right now. What he does react to is the pull he can feel against his own will once more, his partner's panic taking hold, manifesting into a metaphysical force of its own. Contrary to what the clergyman might expect, the otherworldly being does not bend to it even for a moment this time; he's expecting it, knows what it feels like, and knows that it is his duty to fight it back--not just for his own sake, but for Carlisle's, too.

And so, in the middle of his own panic, the human will feel the alien's large, cold hand upon his shoulder. A few more moments as the stabbing pain in his throat subsides, and Glacius finds his voice, too: "Carlisle... it..." one small cough, and then he continues, "... It is fine. You are fine. The apparition has vanished, as they always do."

The witch may have vanished in the same puff of glitter as the bird from the sink, but Carlisle's trauma still remains. It all feeds viciously into itself, as the way his heart pounds furthers that in his head, the painful throbbing from both keeping him from thinking clearly, reasonably. Being unable to put his thoughts in order agitates him, and the longer it goes on, the closer he edges to losing control of his abilities; feeling that impending loss fills him with utter terror, and gets his heart racing even faster, his head pounding louder and louder, drowning out his own desperate cries.

But rather than subduing them with alcohol or drugged tea, it is Glacius' hand that draws his attention -- it's brief, but enough to pull him from the undertow of panic. He looks up to Glacius, meeting his eyes: his are a pleading cry for help, filled with fear... and one with ink, a dark line trailing down his face to join the rest.

Carlisle curls against Glacius, desperate to shut out everything else. "You c- you can feel it, can't you?" he asks as he presses himself against Glacius' middle, using the alien as a shield as he has done in the past. Being nearly encased beneath the alien feels safer, a bit like the small space of his closet. He knows he's okay there, even if it's taking him a moment to remember that. "You can feel the pull against your will. I'm- I can't keep a hold on it like this. I can't and- and you should leave. You should leave before something happens to you."

The words pouring from him may say one thing, but the rest of him says another: as his hands curl into his hair once more, he presses himself against Glacius' body again, wanting to be close, wanting to forget everything but the two of them for a moment. He might be afraid for Glacius' well-being, but he fears for his own, as well... and he knows he cannot do this alone.

Glacius finds himself taken aback when Carlisle looks up to him and he sees the ink trailing from his eyes; his head lifts up suddenly, his eyes go wide. It's always unsettling and heartbreaking to actually be witness to this process of degradation, to see just now tenuous his partner's grip can be not just on his health but on himself. At least he's here in the middle of it, though, and not coming upon the clergyman after the symptoms have already set in from some time; it means he can work to halt this downward spiral, and hopefully hoist him back up onto solid ground.

So he does not leave, as Carlisle suggests he should--he does not even consider it. Instead he embraces the human when he curls tightly against his middle, his icy skin rippling and pulling back to allow his partner a place where he can nestle up safely and comfortably. "No, I shouldn't, and I won't. I'm going to stay right here until this passes--until I can figure out how to help you calm down. Because I know you can. I know you can control this. Carlisle--" Glacius paused only briefly to hold him tighter, curling around the clergyman as best as he can, "--You're going to be alright. I believe in you."

The effect of those words is immediate; as Carlisle has said before, when he cannot trust himself, he will put his trust in Glacius, his friend, partner, lover. Carlisle rests himself as close as he possibly can to his partner's body, a word of gratitude escaping him with a shudder that quakes through his entire frame, the metaphysical pull of his curse subsiding as the seconds pass into one minute, then two, then several. Shielded by the warrior from the room, from the sudden frights, and from his own paranoia, Carlisle's breaths become steadier, and building apprehension in his chest that was eating him alive finally wanes.

He opens his eyes to the floor beneath him: there is so much ink, blackness threatening to pull him in. His pulls his hands from his hair, the sweat on the strands clinging to his fingers, and wraps his arms around Glacius.

"I'm fine," he murmurs, more of an agreement with Glacius' earlier assessment than his usual, placating insistence. "I'm here. You're here with me."

Glacius wasn't expecting Carlisle's response to his words to be so immediate, but then, he is perpetually underestimating the impact he has on the lives of his human friends. He's glad--and profoundly relieved--to see it, in any case; the steadying breaths are the first sign, and one deeply important, as it allows the human to focus and begin letting things fall back into place. His body shudders, then goes still as he struggles for calm; he starts to uncurl and pull his hands from his hair, his body language less beaten and terrified.

And then, finally, the clergyman returns the alien's embrace, holding him tight. The gesture will be surprising to Glacius for some time now--it's a physical sign of just how important he is to the human, of how much his partner cares for him. The ice alien might not have ever expected to find such a thing in this cave, but he appreciates it deeply. And so he smiles warmly down upon Carlisle, despite the fact that the human is currently still burrowed against him and thus can't see the expression. Glacius' powerful arms stay hooked around the clergyman, providing him with shelter and protection from the machinations of the gods, but one hand shifts to stroke his back soothingly.

"You are," the ice alien murmurs, his hand running up and down Carlisle's back a few more times before it drifts up to his hair and cradles the back of his hair, wordlessly inviting the clergyman to stay tucked up against him for as long as he feels like he needs. "You have more strength than you know... and you continue to make me proud, Carlisle."

"I am only strong because I have you to support me," Carlisle admits, watching as ink drips from his face into the puddle beneath him. Two drips, one not from his mouth -- ah. That's why his eye is burning.

He pulls one hand from around Glacius to rub at his eye, as though he might be able to hide the black liquid trailing from it and not worry his partner further. "Just... please stay here a moment longer, if you don't mind."

"I am simply helping you discover wells that you have hidden even from yourself," Glacius replies, "But... I am glad you feel that way, truly. As for request, you already know I will be right here; it is an honor to stay beside you, no matter what happens."

Carlisle nods against Glacius; he knows, truly.

The bathroom falls into silence, save fpr the sound of his ragged breaths and the occasional, stifled cough. The thudding behind his eye dissipates, and finally, after several more minutes, he uncurls just a bit.

"I... I believe I'm all right, for now." He says that, but his tone is uncertain. "Let us... away before something else happens. I don't know how much more of this madness I can take for the time being."

"Of course, Carlisle," the ice alien responds--and with that he's carefully scooping the human up in his arms again, not wanting him to have to feel like he has to walk when he's likely worn down by the effects of his curse.

It isn't until they're back in Carlisle's room that the alien sets him down--and even then, it's on the bed, so the amount of moving the clergyman has to do is minimal. After that, Glacius clambers up besides him; though he'd entertained the idea of going to clean up the bathroom, he'd much rather stay by Carlisle's side... and he likes to think he's learned his partner well enough by this point to know that is what he would prefer, as well. The ice alien starts to lay down on his side--careful as always to avoid getting his various spikes tangled in the sheets--then a thought occurs to him.

"Would you like me to turn off the lights, and use my Mote for local illumination..? Do you think it would help if you couldn't see these apparitions, or would that only make it worse?"

Once they're both on the bed, Carlisle curls up tightly beside Glacius, one palm still against his eye, the other hand grasping at the alien wherever he can reach. His fingers curl against Glacius' muscles, tension binding his own tightly. His nerves might have calmed down, but they're still frayed, ready to give at any moment.

"I... I don't know," he admits. "I suppose it would be better. Though I fear what may reach out for me in the dark, I... I trust you. I trust you to be my eyes, and see where mine cannot."

Glacius cant help the fond little croon that slips from his gills when Carlisle shelters up against him once more. He's used to fighting for people, defending them... but he's never been given the opportunity to protect someone in such a personal manner, to give them solace with his mere presence. It makes him feel... useful, but also utterly touched. Strong and good in a different sort of way than he's usually afforded, prized for more than just his combat prowess.

So the alien nods, separating himself from Carlisle only as long as it takes to turn the lights in the bedroom off; the room is only plunged into darkness for a brief moment before Glacius' Mote winks to life in his hand. The light swells bright and vibrant, thrumming away in his palm as he crosses back over to the bed and climbs up on it once more. It's a similar tactic to what Carlisle had tried back at the masquerade when he removed his glasses, stripping the rest of the world away so that the only thing he can focus on is the two of them.

"I will honor your trust as always, Carlisle," the otherworldly being replies, his voice solemn and devoted as lays down and allows the clergyman to curl up with him once more. "I will keep your fears at bay however I can."

Edited 2017-05-21 02:55 (UTC)

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