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

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)

The room goes dark, and while that simply means more danger could be lurking in the shadows, Carlisle feels... safer with Glacius beside him, the light of the Mote vibrant, peaceful. It glows brilliantly, pushing away the clergyman's concerns as easily as the alien who conjured it had, the light's strength a reflection of its owner's.

"This is good," Carlisle murmurs, resting his head on the pillows, idly wondering just how filthy he's getting them. He can feel just how disheveled he is, even without all the ink down him: his hair is damp with sweat and unkempt, his clothes rumpled. His cloak is just lying somewhere in the hallway, abandoned there in his terror.

And yet, he repeats himself. "This is good, my friend. I'm- I'm sorry I'm a mess. More of- of a mess than usual. I feel as though the false gods could eat for a week on my energies alone."

"You already know what I'm going to say... but it bears repeating, so." Glacius pauses, slipping up closer to Carlisle as he rests back against the pillows. He doesn't seem to be at all bothered by how unkempt his partner is, only relieved to see him resting. "You don't have to apologize for any of that. I don't give a damn about the apartment or the ink; all I care about is you. I'll clean it all up once this is well and truly over with; for right now, we need to work on restoring the energies that those damn parasites are leeching off of."

"Of course."

Carlisle's agreement is somber in tone. As he keeps pawing at his eye, the ink around it dry and irritating, he knows he should address the proverbial elephant before it reaches the room.

"I don't mean to worry you further," he says, as is tradition before saying something completely and utterly worrying, "but... you are right. It is getting worse."

He doesn't specify exactly what it is, but given what they just went through -- the near-compulsion, the lost tongue, the dreadful amount of ink staining him -- Glacius doesn't have to venture far for a guess.

The Mote in Glacius' palm flickers and wavers, its light dimming for a moment as its rays struggle to turn--a reflection of his spirit, wounded by this confirmation of his fears.

"I know," the ice alien murmurs, lowering his head to graze his one intact mandible through Carlisle's hair--attempting to reassure both his partner and himself with the contact. Then, he allows the ice coating one of his large thumbs to liquefy so that he can assist the clergyman in wiping the ink from his eye. "Don't worry about worrying me; you are going through enough without feeling like you have to... hide this and put on a brave face. I am glad you finally feel like you can be open and honest about your struggles. I won't stop working to find a solution, and in the meantime I will do whatever I can to keep you safe from things that might exacerbate your condition... alright? We can't give up hope."

Carlisle is grateful for the assistance with his eye, and gives Glacius as brave a smile a star he can muster in the dark. It isn't much of one, admittedly.

"I cannot simply ignore what calling in this life I have," he notes, flexing his fingers, "but it does not help in the slightest when the false gods aggravate my energies. I have enough trouble as it is keeping such potent powers under lock and key without them making matters worse."

He stifles a cough, watching how the Mote flickers and dims, feeling guilty for every instant it is not at its brightest.

"...I wouldn't ask you to," Glacius finally relents, after some hesitation where his features were tightly-knitted like he wanted to protest, but knew he could not. "Just as you would not try to keep me from my calling as a warrior despite the risk of injury inherent. But I do ask that you exercise caution, that you do not push yourself too far... and that we continue seeking ways to keep your energy not only normalized, but well-nourished, so that you have reserves to draw upon. As for the rest of this... we must simply weather it as best we can, and that is why it is important that you trust and communicate with me, so that I can do my best to keep you calm and safe."

"If only you could erase my fears from existence with the ease that you calm my nerves," Carlisle replies, the corner of his mouth quirked by a rueful smile. He cannot begin to describe how much more at peace he feels already, listening to the gentle sounds of his partner's gills as air flutters through them, the light of the Mote holding all that would terrify him from the dark at bay.

That rueful smile gives way to a sad chuckle next, one born out of some desperate need to feel better about the grim situation he'd long-ago accepted; it's harder to do that now that he has someone he'll be leaving behind, someone who will truly miss him. "You know, I'd thought for a while there that perhaps you'd cured me of the linguistic problems related to my curse. It hasn't happened since I've been with you."

It's not really funny, but he has another laugh anyway.

"... Can it even be cured?" Glacius asks, wondering if this is something in his power to do that he's failed to achieve for his partner so far. That thought piggybacks off another, and he props himself up slightly, the better to look down into Carlisle's eyes as they talk. With his face in full view, the alien seems more concerned than anything, and only confused by his partner's laughter--as usually he's taking everything about the clergyman's condition utterly seriously, especially if this aspect of it is something he could actually fix.

"... What was that, anyways? I... I couldn't understand you at all. You never even told me that could happen."

Edited 2017-05-22 13:54 (UTC)

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