[OPEN] EVENT LOG: BAD MOON RISING - WEEK TWO

[asgardmods]

Who: EVERYONE!
What: Bad Moon Rising: Week Two
When: Days 323-326 ( September 8-15 )
Where: All across the city.
Rating: PG-13. Anything that might go higher than that should be taken to a private log, please!

[ You've been on edge. Inexplicably, so far as you can tell in the moments after those short bouts of quick, sharp anger you've experienced in the past few days - but maybe it's simply stress from the recent attacks on the city. Perhaps some rest will help, or a nice day at Folkvang to decompress and gather yourself.

Whatever you try, though, the odd feeling of being off stubbornly lingers on. Anger is joined by discomfort, the shadows in the corners of the room just a little bit darker than usual and did you see something dart down that alley way? The hallucinations creep into every day activities, paranoia and snappishness leading to insomnia and sleep deprivation. Try as you may to ignore it, the symptoms only seem to escalate over time. Maybe it's stress. Maybe it's something else entirely.

But it's stubbornly lingering on. Perhaps some rest will help ... ]

[ OOC NOTES: This is the mingle log for Week 2 of the Bad Moon Rising event! Characters will start experiencing auditory and visual hallucinations alongside vivid violent thoughts at strange, innocuous moments. Some characters may start sleep walking and heading towards the Gate of Fog; none will make it, however, so lock your doors and keep an eye on your friends. Please put [OPEN/CLOSED] along with the time/location in your comment titles. Let us know if you have any questions or concerns! ]

Comments

[canmakemore]

[She nods.]

I agree.

[What are they supposed to do? She has no idea.]

[samantha_grey]

[It wasn't a language he'd know, not unless he could understand Old Irish, a very very old dialect of gaellic. Worse, it was getting interspersed with Imperial Latin and Hebrew, a hodge podge of ancient languages spoken either in her magic or Hell itself. Since she was switching from word to word, deciphering meaning was next to impossible.

And worse, as he came in that close, she licked her lips again and giggled in a particularly high pitch as her eyes widened and her claws extended, then retracted.]

[pushesgently]

[Unfortunately, neither does he.]

There must be a cause, something we all have in common. The water, perhaps? But you'd think all would be wary of poisoning it again.

[canmakemore]

Indeed.

[She considers quietly.]

Common cause...

...the bracelets, maybe? I do not know enough about them to know if that is possible or not.

[saving_sound]

It can get dangerous when we get attacked, but... Other than that, it's a nice place to live. The people are very friendly, too!

[familyissues]

[ He offers no sign of recognition to Alastair, won't even glance at him, his eyes on the castle yet utterly empty of focus. When he's shaken Desmond doesn't resist, shifting slightly with the motion as the effort behind it warrants. ]

[servesthehuman]

They are. If we had to be stuck somewhere, at least it's with good company.

[fredless]

....it's alright.

[Her expression shifts again slightly as Fred reaches for the drink. But she reconsiders and instead lets her hand drift across the bar for a proper greeting. It's how things were meant to be done]

Just who did you think I was exactly?

[secondborn]

[Alastair moves around to Desmond's front, waves a hand in front of those glassy eyes, and sighs.]

Nothing, huh?

[He crosses his arms and considers him.

Try stabbing him.

And there go the thoughts again. Alastair cringes and rubs his face momentarily, but he can't shake it as well this time.

Because hey. It's an idea.

It doesn't have to be fatal, it could just be... a prick... just to get his attention...

Dammit stop thinking like that.]

[familyissues]

[ A chuckle falls from his lips, but it's not directed at Alastair, it's somewhere for the middle distance between Gladsheim and Sigyn. Another chuckle follows, eerie in the stillness. ]

[secondborn]

[Alastair tenses at that chuckle, and his frown deepens.

Just a little cut, just to see if it'll snap him out of it.

Just... a little one, right?

And he could heal it after, even.

Before Alastair really realizes it, he's got his dagger out in front of him.

This... is not a good idea.

But it's all he can think of.

Gently, he reaches for Desmond's hand, watching him closely for any reaction.]

[familyissues]

[ Nothing, just the soft, meaningless chuckles. His hand is pliant in Alastair's, fingers lightly calloused, his skin faintly cool from the morning air. ]

[secondborn]

[When the thought comes again, Alastair doesn't resist it. He quickly and deftly sinks the dagger into Desmond's palm, pulling it out again before he can push all the way through. He holds the hand carefully and watches Desmond's eyes as his hand bleeds, and bleeds a lot.]

[familyissues]

[ There's nothing quite like that sound, that of flesh neatly parting to a blade, sickening to hear. By all rights Desmond should have responded swiftly, seized Alastair by the wrists, driven a knee into his gut and relieved him of his dagger, likely with a shout to the tune of What the fuck is your problem?!, but he doesn't move. Doesn't even blink an eye. He continues to chuckle, as if at an offhand joke, while blood wells up in his hand, spilling in warm, red rivulets between his fingers, collecting in fat droplets along his knuckles. ]

[saving_sound]

Uh-huh. And the city's beautiful, too! And it has so many nice things...!

[freezerburned]

We did.

[He nods.]

And then we tied our wrists together. No go.

[fishdouche]

[Yeah.He was so not touching that with a ten-foot pole. He knew what those claws could do--especially when she wasn't in her right mind.

Taking a step back, Eridan adjusts his cape, attempting to act nonchalant and not as terrified as he really was. What if she was stuck like this forever? Or what if it got worse?

He wasn't prepared to deal with either situation. And it didn't sit well with him, having his kismesis vulnerable like this. He was the only one allowed to hurt her.]

...Fine. I guess wwe're doin' this then. But you fuckin' owwe me wwhen you're done playin' leaky think pan.

[servesthehuman]

What's your favorite thing to do in the city?

[comeonthensexy]

[ That's going to hurt later.

But it obviously doesn't hurt now. His head is forced to the side, but he only turns it back around and keeps staring at nothing. But there is the hint of a smile again. ]

[pushesgently]

[He lifts his wrist to look at his own bracelet with a mixture of suspicion and disdain.]

Nor do I, but if it is them, that presents us with a difficult choice—continue on as we are, and see things get worse, or remove them and surrender ourselves to the gray.

[secondborn]

[There's no change in Desmond, and Alastair inhales sharply as the wound continues to bleed and all Desmond does is just stand there and laugh. What the hell is happening?

Alastair swallows and looks back down at the wound. He concentrates.

Slowly the wound knits back together as if nothing ever happened.

It feels harder to do this time, for some reason. When it's finished, Alastair takes a deep breath like he's just sprinted down a city block. That... shouldn't have been that hard. Maybe it's because he's so tired. That's probably it.

Well it's healed, but there's still blood. Alastair stares at it, unsure of what to do about it. It's run down Desmond's hand onto his and is beginning to drip onto the ground.]

[mulletrock]

Sorry, but I'm not about to open that can of worms. You might as well be her twin, and I don't need the trip down memory lane.

[He pushes the drink her way and walks back down the bar to top a few other people off. When he comes back he leans up against the counter top.]

You one of the new recruits?

[canmakemore]

Leaving the city and the gods without the defenders they were so eager to have.

It is an impossible choice. We would be helpless to them with them on, and completely helpless without them.

[familyissues]

[ Desmond lapses back into silence, blank as a piece of wood, the whole exercise and Alastair's slide into temptation going without comment, without even a shred of acknowledgment for his Assassin brother. Blood leaves a streak down his arm, cutting a red line neatly between the black whorls of his sleeve tattoo. ]

[secondborn]

[Alastair swallows, still at a loss for how to clean this up.

Well. They're in Sigyn. He could just run to his room in the Welcome Hall and grab a wet cloth or something.

Probably the best thing to do.

It's not like Desmond's going anywhere.

Carefully Alastair lowers Desmond's hand, not releasing it until it's pointing at the ground so that the blood can. Properly drip off and all that. Alastair grimaces, steps back, then nods.]

Stay there, okay?

[Like he needed to say that. He huffs at his own foolishness and runs off.

A few minutes later he's back with a wet washcloth and looking for any sign of change in Desmond's face.]