hadriel_logs | INTRO LOG: BLACK CATS & WALKING UNDER LADDERS

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INTRO LOG: BLACK CATS & WALKING UNDER LADDERS

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for February.
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: February 10th-13th
Warnings: Fresh meat, creepy moving shadows, terrible luck, the screams of your loved ones.

Welcome to Hadriel, new friends. While waking up on the ground of a broken colosseum may not be the most pleasant arrival, you can at least find comfort in the fact that there's no giant monster immediately attempting to eat you. Plenty of the people already here will tell you that they weren't quite so lucky. But - wait. Is that something moving in the shadows, or is it just your imagination?

Of course it's not just your imagination. That would be way too easy. No, arriving along with everyone this time are wraiths, vengeful spirits that enjoy darkness, shadows, and misery. On the plus side, they won't try to kill you. On the minus side, their touch chills you and saps your energy, as well as inflicting a temporary curse of awful luck. Anything that can go wrong, will, including (and especially) things that might kill you. Wraiths are subtle and sneaky, so be sure to watch your back. That shadow isn't just a shadow.

Compounding the confusion the wraiths can cause, you just might wake up to the sound of chattering voices - only to be quite alone. A small flock of jabberjays has come through the Door as well. These genetically engineered birds are capable of mimicking entire human voices and conversations - as well as screams of terror and pain. Initially only in the arena and bringing only conversations from their world, they'll soon settle throughout the city and begin to learn the voices of those living in Hadriel. Your best friend screaming bloody murder just a street over? It could be them, or it could just be one of these lovely birds. Don't let it stress you out.

Once you've escaped the colosseum, hopefully without accidentally impaling yourself on your own weapon, feel free to go explore the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers February 10th-13th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well!
► All characters now arrive with phones that have network communication.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(Newt makes small noises when his hair is cleaned. It is the worst part and the pain rings through his head loud and clear. He fusses a bit but doesn't pull away from Peter.

Eventually he finishes and despite the pain, Newt's left feeling a little more human than he's felt in a long time.)

Okay.

(He waits until Peter's gone before he goes to do exactly that. Washes himself down a bit clumsily. Coordinating properly again felt weird. He hadn't even realized how badly his balance had been thrown. His hands were shaky now because of pain, not the virus, and that was strange too.

Eventually he finishes up and he feels- a lot better. He even brushes his teeth and mouth out thoroughly twice. He refuses to look at himself in the mirror and turns away, grabbing a towel to pat himself with. Wrapping it around his hips, he walks out, feeling a bit steadier, and wanders back into their room. He gets dressed into fresh boxers and a t-shirt and sits gingerly in the middle of his own mattress.)

Thanks.

[peter is not generally a person who feels a need to act. most of the time, he's content sitting by and letting things be what they are. but now, he feels itchy, like he needs to do something to fix something that can't be fixed, that has nothing to do with him, that shouldn't even be his goddamned business.

except it is. fuck it all.

so while newt is cleaning himself up, peter makes tea. he makes it too strong and with too much honey, but as skinny and hopeless as newt looks, he doesn't think it will matter. it goes into a tall mug, because peter didn't miss those shaking hands. he toasts two slices of bread, which is probably a slice and a half optimistic, but a single piece of toast just seems too obviously sad.

by the time newt is out peter's sitting on his own mattress, newt's toast and tea safe on the floor within reach. he has his own cup of tea, at least mostly for solidarity reasons, but no toast, since he estimates he'll be eating a slice of newt's and even if he doesn't he's not hungry anyway. this whole thing has stolen his appetite.]

Here, eat. Or at least drink.

(He looks at the food a bit strangely, as if he doesn't fully understand what he's looking at. It's been a long time since he's seen civilized meals like that. He shakes his head, trying to ignore what he'd been doing the last time he'd eaten. Straight out of the trash. At the time, it hadn't really mattered to him but now it made his stomach roll uncomfortably.

He hesitantly reaches out to the food, like he's thinking maybe it'll be snatched away from him but of course it isn't. He ignores the tea and goes straight for the bread and brings it to his mouth.

He bites into the first piece of toast like it's a piece of heaven and his shoulders sink. He blinks a dozen times and shuts his eyes completely, sighing quietly.)

....Thank you...

(His voice wavers and he forces his eyes back open and actually plows through the bread. It's been- he has no clue the last time he had real food. By the time he's finished with the first piece, he has the sense to slow down. He picks up the second piece of toast and nibbles at it, staring off into space.)

[peter looks genuinely surprised at the speed with which newt wolfs down the first piece of toast. it's just plain, dry toast, after all, the same sort of thing his mother gave him to eat when he had an upset stomach.]

Don't make yourself sick.

[he says it too late, though, as newt is picking up the second piece of bread.]

Hey. Drink some tea too. It'll help the toast go down easier.

(The kid was starving, kind of. And it's better than anything he's eaten in a long while. It's not until he's half way through the second piece that he realizes what Peter had said.

He reaches out to pick up the tea and takes a slow sip. Peter was right. The tea wets his throat and he didn't realize how thirsty he was. He drinks a bit slower than he eats before setting the mug down.

He finishes the toast and not longer after, the tea. Once he's done, he sits facing Peter, just numbly holding the glass between his palms.)

I was hungry.

Yeah, I noticed. Didn't think you'd be able to down that much, skinny as you've gotten.

[he says it lightly, like they're not talking about recovery from starvation, like newt isn't a bruised mess, like things are okay.

they're not, though. the way newt just stares, like his head is empty of thoughts, is maybe the most disquieting thing.]

Still with me, kitten? Or do you want a sleep?

(He shakes his head, lowering it down between his shoulders for a moment. He tips the mug around before setting it back down.)

I was still eating. Just...not well.

(He bobs his head back up and rolls his eyes up to look at Peter and instantly grows tense. He hadn't even thought about sleeping. God, when was the last time he had even slept? Sleeping as a Crank just wasn't a thing. You'd pass out maybe sometimes but most of the time the Virus just kept you up.)

I don't. I don't- I don't want to sleep.

(He's got no clue what his nightmares will even be like. He's already shaking just a little bit thinking about it.)

Okay. Okay, hey.

[peter is off his mattress and on newt's before he really thinks about it, his hands on the other boy's shoulders, rubbing up and down.]

Hey. You don't have to sleep yet if you don't want to.

[he doesn't know what to do with this newt, so different from the one who had been there just the other day. does he treat him like a child? like the damaged creature he is? he'd never really known what to do with roman when he went off the edge either, and roman was always teetering on the edge. newt is the grounded, reliable one, not peter.]

We don't have to do anything you don't wanna do right now.

(He relaxes when Peter begins to touch him. Just enough and eventually, the shaking draws out of him. He is exhausted but he doesn't want to sleep. He definitely doesn't want to sleep. He knows that much perfectly clear.

He doesn't want to be a burden. He's never in all of his life wanted to be a burden but at the moment he doesn't really know enough to really feel that way just then. All he knows is- well. Not a lot.

His eyes stared over Peter's face and he opens his mouth before shutting it. Then he shakes his head, lower lip trembling before he swallows hard.)

I should be dead. Tommy...He-

Edited 2016-02-11 03:36 (UTC)

[it takes only an instant before understanding moves across peter's face.]

He did what I promised to do?

[a search of newt's face confirms that for him. but there's a piece that doesn't fit, something so obviously out of place that it jags against peter's skin. he touches newt's face, fingertips ever-so-lightly brushing over a bruise. then he draws the other boy closer, until newt is leaning in against him. touch seems to help, somehow.

maybe it'll make this easier.]

You aren't relieved to be alive.

(He knows that it's not something he really has to answer. It's obvious, isn't it? Thomas killed him. He did what Newt had needed him to do. What Newt would have wanted Peter to do and would still want him to do. Kind of wants him to do right now.

Newt sighs faintly when he's pulled close to Peter and it is a comfort. For the past few days, few moments of his life he'd really only known violent touches. He milked this for all it was worth.

Then Peter speaks and for a fraction of a second, Newt tenses. But it doesn't matter. He's too disoriented to care just then, everything is far too fresh. He's not equipped to be defensive right now.)

Who would want to live like this?

(It's more than that, of course, has always been more than that. He was like that before he became a Crank. But right now? Right now it was a safe out of admittance and some inherent part of him accepts that.)

[the answer comes easily and immediately to peter, who has never really wanted anything more than to be peter rumancek for all that it was worth..]

Me. I would. I mean, dying sucks, it really does. Living--and you aren't sick now, just banged up--is better than dying. I mean, what's there to do when you're dead? Spy on people doing shit you can't do anymore? I'd rather be doing the shit.

[he sighs, nose brushing one of the remaining bunches of newt's hair.]

You know, I can change on the wrong moon. Can choose to. And every time I do, I lose a little bit more of myself, get just a little more vargulf. That's a wolf who can't come back, who doesn't know how to be human anymore, who just wants blood. Someday, that could be me. It'll probably get me, sooner or later, at least at home. Doesn't mean I want to die, just that someday something else will be more important.

And you...you're an amazing super genius kid who just escaped from actual hell to...whatever this place is. Comfortable, at least. You have friends here, you're safe as it gets, you can live mostly how you wanna live...bruises will heal, hair grows back, and I won't let you get that sick ever again. I'd want to live like this, if I was you.

(Newt listens- he really does. The only problem is that this has been something inside of him for a long time now. Long enough that it's made its home at the back of his brain. It's almost worse than the Virus because it's the kind of thing he can't even wrap his mind around some days.

Because he really doesn't see what Peter sees in living. There's some strange disconnect. A lot of days, most days, he can bury it down because if there's anything he's useful for it's being needed and being able to properly contribute. It's the only thing in the past that kept him going and for a while, he had gotten a little better he'd thought.

But he had never really gotten fully better. Had never really thought life was as cracked up as people made it out to be.)

I don't...want anything. I was relieved.

(It's a strange sort of response. He doesn't want an after life. He doesn't want to be a ghost. He just wants nothing. He wants to no longer be this person Newt. He doesn't want his mind in tact, his consciousness, none of it. He wants that endless black nothingness some people think death is.

It's not too often he goes this dark, this deep, not at all, no. But it can't be helped right now. Failing twice to die is...awful.)

I don't...think it could. You're too you.

(His voice is soft but sincere. He couldn't imagine Peter being rabid. Ever. Though he doesn't deny that it could happen, really, no, but he doesn't think it would.

At least not here. Newt wouldn't let it.)

...Bruises and hair are easy, Peter. Some things don't grow back. You're not me.

(He sighs quietly and withdraws from Peter a little bit, looking at him rather tired. He is grateful that Peter wouldn't ever let him get that sick. His mind wanders to the note he had given Thomas and he shuts his eyes a moment.)

I wanted to die. I'm half tempted to ask you to kill me right now. But I don't think that things work like that here. Not if they already decided to bring me back. You think I am so much more than I really am. I'm nothing like that. I'm barely smart and I'm certainly not amazing. I was awful to my friends when I was sick. And frankly, I'm a little bit pathetic. I mean bloody hell- look at me.

[peter doesn't know what to say. he doesn't know how to process the idea that someone would ever not want to exist, that the idea of dying would be a relief not just to end a sickness, but to...end. forever. to not want to be at all.

his arms tighten just slightly around newt. how could it be that this golden boy would want to escape into nothingness? it just doesn't make sense.]

It's happening. Like you being sick, I know it's happening. I've lost my temper, I've hurt people. They deserved it, but I still hurt people. Nobody is too themselves to get lost, I guess.

[he takes a long slow breath, the sort that's just asking for patience.]

You think I don't know that? Just because I haven't been through that hell...

[he cuts himself off as newt pulls away. it doesn't matter. this isn't about him.]

I get that. And you still want to die, right now, even when things are an entire world better. I don't know how to change that, Newt. There's nothing outside you that can change that.

But you aren't stupid or pathetic. You're not immune, so you're not immune, period. Shit's gonna happen. How're you pathetic for something that has nothing to do with who you are?

I'm sorry.

(Because he is sorry, is the thing. Of all people in the world who don't deserve to lose themselves that would be Peter. He was better than most and a lot better than Newt has ever properly told him.

He frowns when Peter cuts himself off, his eyes searching Peter's face for a moment as if he wanted to press. He didn't quite know how to right then. Wasn't enough himself for it but he knew it'd be something he'd want to ask about in the future.

Newt's eyes drift down and really, the words kind of just made him feel a little more hopeless. He'd already known that there was no real cure but it still- it sucked hearing. Shit's gonna happen.

He didn't want shit to happen. If he had succeeded in jumping off the wall, shit would have never happened to begin with. He withdraws from Peter and withdraws a bit in general.)

Yeah, I guess.

(He shakes his head and sits back, drawing a knee to hug it against his chest.)

It's...it's fine, Peter. I'm not your responsibility- you don't need to know how to change anything.

[peter doesn't let newt withdraw, pulls him in with the gentlest hands on his bruised jaw until their foreheads touch]

It's not fine, you magnificent, beautiful mess of a creature. It's not fine that you can't see the point in living at all. How is that even one tiny little atomic particle of fine? I can show you all the beautiful in the entire universe and that's not enough unless you want to see it and you want that to be fine?

[peter's ranting, but he's not angry. it's tender, like he's telling newt something honey-sweet instead of the saddest possible thing in the world.]

You may not be my responsibility, but you are my friend. And...you deserve to want to be here, Newt. You really do.

(It's funny because this is unknown terrain to Newt. He doesn't talk about his feelings, not even to his friends back home, and he's never really had anyone delegate any sort of....What? Comfort over him like this? He has no clue what he's feeling just then. There's this tightening in his chest that's somehow both pleasant and awful.

There's never been anyone around who bothered to tell him that life was beautiful, that he was beautiful, that this was all worth it.

It fractures some small delicate part of him and his eyes are wet and before long, his face becomes wet with silent tears that stick between his eyelashes.

But he doesn't really look anguished. Actually, his eyes look a little brighter somehow, and he smiles. It's a weak thing, nothing compared to his usual smiles, but it's sincere.

He slides his head out of Peter's hand but only so that he could reach his arms up and wrap himself into Peter, hugging him tight and pressing his face into Peter's neck. There's minor tremors rolling through him but his crying is silent except for the occasional sniffing.

Eventually though, he seems to sink into Peter completely, his body a little limp, almost as if he's fallen asleep. He hasn't, of course.)

Thank you, Peter.

[something peter says finally seems to get through, and he lets newt cling to him and weep. peter rubs his back a bit, rocks him a little sometimes, but he never says a damned thing. not that it's okay or that it will be all right. he's not going to say anything right now that isn't true and he doesn't know. he doesn't know if it's okay, if it's going to be all right. he knows that this is better than a few minutes before, that newt's tears soaking into his shirt is a world better than that empty stare over a mug of tea. but there's not much else he knows, so he stays quiet, lets newt cry himself out and then rest against the slouch of peter's body, gently encircled by his arms.]

It's just the truth. But you're welcome.

(It actually feels really good crying like this. When he'd sunk into the Gone, crying actually wasn't something anyone did. They screamed or ripped out their hair but crying? No. Not so lucky.

It lasts for a good while too, a couple of minutes, but eventually he does withdraw from Peter. The whites of his eyes have turned a little pink and he sits back, still holding onto Peter's arms.

He notices that he got Peter's shirt a little wet and chokes out a small laugh.)

I'm sorry. I got you wet.

(And he leans forward, rubbing at the spot a little lightly in a hopeless attempt to make the spot dried.)

Can't believe I even forgot someone like you.

It's fine, I'm washable.

[sometimes, his mother had told him, one just needed a good cry to wash the insides out. he thinks maybe newt had that kind of cry.]

You had other things on your mind at the time. Besides, you remember me now, that's where we live.

No, I forgot all of Hadriel. I think...maybe that's just how it works if we vanish from here.

(It still sucked but at the very least he wasn't blaming himself for it.

He exhales slowly, still looking at Peter. He idly slides a hand against the side of Peter's face, feeling the bristle of his beard under his palm. It felt odd. It'd only been a day but it had been weeks for Newt. It felt odd seeing Peter again- really seeing him. Now that Newt wasn't in such a bad spot, he was realizing that now.

And he'd been a wolf too. Newt remembered that all right. His hand slid from Peter's jaw down to rest against the curve of his neck just beneath.)

Are you okay? If what you said is right then you were a wolf pretty recently.

That'd make sense. Can't really go home remembering all this.

[peter goes very still under newt's touch, still slouchy but almost like he's holding his breath or like a cat not sure whether it's supposed to want to be petted. when the hand on his neck goes still he relaxes just minutely, heart slowing under newt's hand.]

Yeah, I'm fine now. Usually just takes that one good sleep and a nice meal and I'm right back to normal. Other than you disappearing, it was a downright relaxing day after.

[which is kind of a big 'other than', but since some days have involved him nearly dying and other exciting adventures, he'll take it.]

If you're sure.

(Which Peter probably is. He'd know better than anyone how a transformation into a wolf ought to go. He keeps his hand where it is for a moment longer, thumb sliding idly up and down before finally he takes that away. He looks down between them, twisting his hands together in his lap.)

Do you want to go have a cigarette?

Positive. I've been doing this for years.

[he lets newt pet him, unsure how to react exactly except by being still and accepting.]

Yeah, a cigarette would be good about now, I think.

[he unfolds himself and offers his hand to newt to pull him up.]

Master werewolf extraordinaire. Got it.

(He takes Peter's hands in his own and helps himself to his feet, wavering a bit. He'll be unsteady for a while. It's a skewing thing to go from being completely unbalanced to balanced again. Coming back from insanity is a little bit like getting off one of those spinning cup rides.

He gives a nod and steps around Peter to head out onto the balcony. He sits himself down on the floor because really standing is just so not happening anytime soon. He's pretty lethargic as is so sitting it is.)

You must be pretty devastated, hm?

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