diademlogs | EVENT ∞ LOG

Entry tags:

EVENT ∞ LOG — July 125

Event ∞ Log

In the Flesh

Jump ⇅ :: Visits — First Contact — Hitchhikers — Notes

∞ Prologue ∞

It's not real, it's not real.

Somewhere in the Blocks, late at night, a young woman repeats the words over and over, fumbling with her room key. She doesn't dare look over her shoulder again, begging her hand to obey. Her fingers are stiff and smooth, and it makes each movement more difficult. Eventually, the door gives way. She stumbles into the apartment, slamming it behind her and locking several bolts.

Leaning back on the door, she lets her key ring fall to the linoleum as she holds her hand up to her face. It isn't just her fingers now. Painted plastic has taken over her entire right hand, spreading up her forearm toward a ball-jointed elbow that creaks painfully. She grabs her neck with her flesh hand, sucking in a sharp breath as she tries to steady her heart.

It's not real, it's not real...

She takes another breath, then turns on the light. The bulb flickers. Hazy light flood the room with an incessant buzz.

She freezes.

A figure stands in the opposite doorway. It doesn't move, stuck in a pose with an outstretched hand—one made of flesh and bone. Her hand.

She screams.

Info & Mechanics — NPC Forum Post — Event Interaction ::: ⇅ Top

Strange Visits

Panorama

For the first week or two of July, life goes on as usual. You have a lot on your plate—jobs, loans, rent, that creep who won't stop staring at you when you're filling up your car—and the last thing you've got time for is other people's problems. Or maybe you find room to listen, anyway? Whatever the case, it's mostly a lot of stories and pointing fingers: a shopkeeper accuses his friend of stealing from him, somebody claims their boss must've skipped town to avoid paying the employees, and a woman is frantic about her missing husband. He never goes anywhere without telling her.

If you decide to look into it, none of the incidents seem connected. After all, people frequently go missing in the Diadem, friends betray each other, and businesses often go bankrupt, leaving their workers to pick up the pieces. Funny thing, though: here and there, you swear you glimpse a figure who isn't entirely flesh. Their features are just...a bit odd. Is it your imagination? When you move in for a closer look, something gets in your way and the figure disappears.

On the other hand, you think to yourself, it's not as though everybody on this planet looks standard. If a man can have horns, why can't his skin also be a bit plasticky?

Use the Event Interaction comment any time you need specifics or some direction for an element you're engaging within the event. This can be an NPC victim your character is questioning, an aspect of the diffusion zone your character is testing, or anything along those veins. While you're encouraged to make things up on your own, too, if you're ever unsure of the results or the answers you might get, approach us there!

⇅ Top

First Contact

The Fringes

Inevitably, you take the risk and head back into the Fringes. It has what you need, and the bizarreness in Panorama isn't making the city feel like much of a refuge, either. Besides, long trips aren't unusual for anyone in the Diadem. As you drive, you might even find yourself reluctant to return to the city. After all, there's so much across the multitude of diffusion zones that regardless of how dangerous it can be, perhaps some part of you is attracted to the thrill of the unknown.

If the promise of loot isn't enough, a note on the Forum might be. Here, you'll scroll across a brief message from who else but the ever-eager Felix Bjurstrom, joined by his daughter, Olive "Ollie" Bjurstrom. (Looks like he's got a new phone again!) If nothing else, the investigative or curious nature in you gets you going. What if this is a piece of the puzzle you need to go home?

If you want your character to scavenge items, check how that works. The Map identifies where each Quadrant is located.

Among the Shadows — Abandoned Mall

In Quadrant 1, about a 10-hour drive from Panorama, a standard American shopping mall rises through the cracked and broken highway. A portion of its vast parking lot melts into the road ahead and behind. There are cars in the parking lot, each one perfectly preserved: no rust, no dust, nothing.

The mall's lights are on. The moment you step inside, you'll notice that you're not alone. Inside, shadow corpses are everywhere, frozen in time. Their bodies show no signs of distress. If you try to touch them, a dark, ashy residue coats your fingers. You see a young couple linking arms, a mother bending over to pick up her child, and a man ordering his last meal at the KFC. It's as though they all just...stopped. While eerie, whatever force swept through here is long gone.

The upside is that nobody will bother you while you look around—aside from other fluxdrifts, of course. The shops and their offerings are stuck in the 90's. Big electronics are cosmic touched, rendering them worthless, but smaller electronics like cassette tapes, CDs, and Walkmans are all viable. You can also grab clothes, snacks, and (cheap) jewelry.

And, as you pass by the store windows, you see many mannequins on display. That's normal, so you don't think twice. At least, until you swear one of them keeps moving around the store. Though its pose never changes, it almost appears to...follow you? That can't be right. You must be seeing things.

Zone Effects
Touching any of the frozen shadows will cause the victim to believe that their companion(s) have transformed into monstrous creatures. Attempts to approach you will only register as an attack rather than placating gestures, while words will sound like snarls or spoken threats. An induced panic will make it more difficult to think logically and see through the hallucination. The illusory creatures can take the form of anything that might frighten or threaten you the most.

You can break free of the illusion through a variety of methods, including your own willpower, being knocked out by your friends, or seeing/hearing something that makes you realize it isn't real. The hallucination isn't overly intense, but it can cause a bit of havoc among you and your companions...and increase the likelihood a mannequin might make contact unnoticed.

Wall of Refuge — Strange Temple

In Quadrant 1, about a 6-hour drive from Panorama—and on the way to the abandoned mall above—stands a geometric structure made of metal and stone. Sharp angles shoot up from the ground to form a distorted hexagon. The gateway is littered with sigils: some weathered by time, others freshly carved into the rocky surface. They glow when you drive forward, beckoning you closer. Come in, whispers an unknown compulsion in your mind. You are home.

You may succumb to the whispers for any number of reasons: sleep deprivation, desperation for a place to rest overnight, or a need to hide from raiders or dangerous creatures lurking in another nearby zone. Regardless, you give in and enter the triangular entrance. The stone gate lifts to grant you passage, revealing an effigy of a multi-limbed being. A deity? A symbol of power? Though you're unsure, you continue deeper. Your footsteps echo across the cavernous halls.

Behind you, the heavy gate slowly closes with a rumbling finality. Despite the chilly entranceway, the interior of the temple is warm and inviting. Candles line the walls. Fountains flow peacefully. You can enter one of the many rooms to find a soft bed, fresh cakes, succulent meat, and fine wine available for you. Behind a silk curtain is a steaming bath lined with soothing floral herbs and oils.

Meanwhile, throughout your explorations, you might sense a figure or a shadow in the passageway. A glimpse of shiny plastic appears oddly out of place in a temple of this kind.

Zone Effects

If you are a believer and decide to trust the gifts bestowed upon you, then you may safely indulge. The wine will warm you up, the food will fill your belly, and you can sleep through the night. When you awaken, you can safely leave the temple refreshed. Your vehicle will be outside, untouched, as if some power within was protecting your belongings.
If you are a heretic and doubt the offerings you've been graciously given, the gifts will begin to rot and all amenities will crumble to dust. The more your cynicism betrays you, the more the temple will take until nothing remains except the oddly textured walls bearing down on you. As you examine the surface, you realize the stone is built from a manifold of dozens—no, hundreds—of twisted bodies. Their arms are raised in reverence, piled upon each other like human bricks. Their gaping mouths are frozen in a silent scream. As for you and your companions...what fate will await the nonbeliever?

The Last Stop — Foggy Town

In Quadrant 4, about a 3-hour drive from Panorama, east of the currently unused train tracks, a thick mist rolls through the highway. Here, the sky darkens rapidly into night and the temperature drops. If you've traveled unprepared, presuming the heat in Panorama spreads into the Fringes, you'll find that's not so. A chill spreads into your bones and creeps up the back of your neck.

Then the ground rumbles. The tremors shake your vehicle. Maybe it even makes you lose control briefly or sends you swerving off-road, straight into the fields. And in the middle of the fog, you see it: a figure standing in the middle of the field. Behind it are a few houses, making up a tiny rural town. The houses are dilapidated, many crumbling. Supplies within are minimal, and many items are broken or spoiled.

Do you approach? Do you drive past? Merely staring for a second too long will be enough for the hitchhiker to choose you as its ride, but its appearance may not be all that keeps you in place. In the distance is another bigger shadow. A much bigger shadow. It looms in the distance without true mass or form. Within the void of its body, a searchlight sweeps over the misty town. It does not move. It simply looks while the ground shakes. Each time its light catches a glimpse of something that doesn't belong—an animal, a vehicle that drove too deep into the tall grass, a raider that went too far into town—a sonorous howl reverberates through the zone.

Then the shadow will teleport to its target and crush the intruder without mercy before retreating back to its watchful post. And the intruder is indeed crushed: any living organism caught by the Light Guardian will be flattened with a horrifying crunch of broken bones and squished organs.

Zone Effects
While the Light Guardian can't be defeated or confronted, you can outrun or hide from its sweeping beam. If you stop far enough on the side of the road, it won't notice you...but you can still watch as it mangles an unfortunate raider or traveler. Possibly, you see the spray of blood or hear the screams before you run. Perhaps you realize how easily you could've met your own gory fate.

If you've left your car and gone too deep into the town before you realize the danger, you can do one of two things: you can risk hiding in an abandoned house in the town and hope that the sunrise comes. In zones like this, the day/night cycle is unpredictable, and many places are permanently cast in darkness. Or, you can try to run back to your vehicle and pray you don't get caught.

Alternatively, you've plowed directly into the field when raiders in pursuit force you into the zone. Should fortune favor you, they'll be obliterated by the Light Guardian while you flee. The beam tracks quickly, but can only shine in one direction at a time so the key is to bob and weave.

⇅ Top

Hitchhikers

Anywhere

Not everyone who enters the diffusion zone will pick up a mannequin, but the possibility is there. Once you make first contact, you will gain a hitchhiker. Unlike most aspects of the diffusion zones, this one has gathered into a storm, meaning the effects will breach even normally stable and anchored strongholds like Panorama.

Some fluxdrifts will brush off your problems while a few might believe you. Others will offer solutions in their own way, including a doctor who'll pay to obtain strange plastic limbs. Not everyone will pitch in to help. The city's big, populated, and somebody on the street turning doll-like doesn't affect them (...until it does). They've got a job to get to and mouths to feed.

Unwanted Passenger

When do you first notice your passenger? At any point, really. Perhaps it goes like this:

You glance in the rearview mirror and glimpse a figure in the backseat. When you spin around, there's nobody there. Then it happens again. This time, you realize it's not a person, but a dummy. A mannequin. It's sitting upright. And is it...wearing a seatbelt? Or maybe it's thrown itself across the back bench as though somebody tossed it there, uncaring.

This time, when you look back, it's still there. You pull over and dump it on the side of the road. That's taken care of, you think. You drive some more. For a few hours or even a day or two—depending on how long you've traveled—you don't think much of it. Then suddenly, it's back. And it keeps coming back no matter how much you try to get rid of it.

Or it goes like this:

You return from a standard trip into a diffusion zone. It went pretty well, you think. You found some clothes at a creepy mall and now you're ready to get some sleep. When you open your trunk to retrieve your belongings, you notice a mannequin stuffed inside, limbs bent at odd angles. You're a little weirded out, but you decide to dump it on the street and move on.

You shower. In the bathroom mirror, the mannequin suddenly appears behind you. Over the next few days, this continues. The mannequin appears in a booth across the diner as you're eating your eggs. It's behind a shelf in the corner store. It's in your closet. Each time you check, it vanishes...but then, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it's right there in plain view. It'll even let you throw it away, burn it, anything you can think of. But it always comes back.

However it plays out, you realize that people around you do notice it...sometimes. That doesn't mean anyone will believe you that things are just that weird. Most people have better things to do. They don't know you, after all, and even if they did, well, this place does have a habit of driving people a little crazy. Witnesses casually push the mannequin aside and tell you that's a funny prank. Your regular waitress pats your shoulder and suggests you get some sleep. You're not looking well. The shopkeeper demands you take that thing before you go. He's not responsible for your junk.

But there's a small chance you run into someone who seems to be going through what you are. Unfortunately, they seem to actually have it worse and aren't making much sense. Still, you can try questioning them and see what answers you get. At least, before you lose them for good. For some of you, the victim you run into is in especially bad shape...and you have to wonder how long before you end up the same.

Trading Places

For some of you, the mannequins might not do more than be a nuisance. While that's not ideal, either, it doesn't completely upend your life. Others are less fortunate. If you're one of the latter, you'll begin to notice symptoms.

The first time it happens, you're startled to hear the mannequin speak. To begin with, its voice might be guttural and unnatural, incapable of stringing more than a few words together. Then it seems to learn. It talks in full sentences. Its voice smooths out. It starts to sound more and more like you...right down to your speech patterns and accent. As symptoms progress with varying intensity—over days or weeks—you realize with dawning horror that you're losing parts of yourself. When you wash your hands, you notice a part of your skin is smooth and shiny. The next time the mannequin appears, its previously plasticky appearance is more flesh and blood.

Eventually, the mannequin becomes independent. It shops with your money. It steals while wearing a face that looks nearly identical to yours, especially from a distance. It calls your friend and says the things you would never say out loud to them. They're thoughts you've had, sure, but you know better than to hurt your friend's feelings...except apparently, you have. And now you can't even use your own voice to explain yourself. Your leg has been getting stiff. Your joints don't bend properly.

Meanwhile, the mannequin is now striding around smoothly. Its appearance is still uncanny and odd if anyone pays attention, but at a glance, it easily passes as a part of the crowd. As its final act, it's even absorbed small bits of your abilities if you have any. Not all of them, but enough to cause trouble. Throughout everything, you cannot harm your hitchhiker. Some unknown force stops you any time you think about it. You simply can't.

Related Incidents

The impact isn't contained only to those directly affected. The hitchhikers' influence spreads through the city. For some incidents, it's difficult to trace back to the source. For others, that's a little easier. Regardless, these occurrences could help you determine how to solve your own situation. Alternatively, if you've escaped unscathed, you can still find yourself dragged into a situation involving someone else.

Return to Sender

July 11 — The Forum: An anonymous poster contributes this bit of information that might catch the eye of those affected. You can try the same method, but it's a risk going back into the diffusion zones. No one can guarantee the specific zone you found the mannequin in is still standing. Further, you have to remember where you made contact to begin with.

If you decide to try it, be sure to take a friend. The less independent the hitchhiker, the more likely it will stick to your side even as you return it home. If the assimilation has progressed too far, though, you might have to utilize methods such as duct taping inside your trunk or strapping it down with ropes. It may struggle and say vile things to you or your companion.

Victimless Burn Victims

July 14 @ 03:00 — The Pavilion (East End): A handful of troublemakers grabbed some freaky mannequins wandering the street and, in a drunken stroke of genius, set them all on fire for no reason other than that they wanted to. Not only has this resulted in damage to the corner store nearby, but Enforcers have linked the incident to four hospitalizations at roughly the same time. Doctors from Saint Margery's Hospital (located in the Blocks) report that all four individuals suffered massive shock and claim to have endured unimaginable agony as if they had been "set on fire."

Curiously, none of them bear any physical wounds and, by all accounts, are completely fine (trauma aside). Notably, all four individuals were also suffering from various stages of "joint stiffness" and "hallucinations"...which have since completely vanished. You might wonder, is this the solution? Or perhaps the better question would be, is it worth it?

The Sculptor

July 15 — The Pavilion (Medical Clinic): Around July 14 onward, word begins to spread that a Dr. Maggie Wright (who insists on being called the Sculptor, though nobody seems to heed this request) will not only do an amputation for free, she will pay you for your limb if you are boasting an "unusual trophic change to the skin, resulting in a smooth and shiny texture." All she asks is she gets to keep the sample. Her promise is that she will study it to find a more permanent cure and, if she does, she will return the limb to you for reattachment.

Some end up trusting her. You wonder, maybe she could help? Dr. Wright will happily accept you as her patient if you agree. Her methods are indeed proper and sterile: she'll put you under and provide you with plenty of pain meds. She appears to have all of the equipment required to preserve the limb, too.

If you're suspicious, you can also pay her a visit, but you won't have much luck getting her in trouble or sniffing out any evidence of nefarious deeds. Her office hasn't got anything strange, she is indeed a real surgeon, and there are testimonials from patients who've had success under her care in the past. Plus, nobody's going to her who isn't doing so voluntarily (they've signed waivers)—even if you could argue how much desperation plays into their decision. Still...the thing about her "title" is a bit weird, right?

Dr. Maggie Wright is 5'2, Caucasian with a light Northeastern accent and silver hair often worn in a bun. She's in her 50s and looks fairly good for her age. Her voice is soothing. She has intense, wide blue eyes, which some might find unnerving, but that's not necessarily her fault.

∞ Notes ∞

Mannequin contact is not required. Not everybody who goes into the diffusion will make first contact, and many won't. Characters can explore the mall, the temple, and the foggy field without ever picking up a hitchhiker.
The diffusion zones described are only examples. Others will exist where mannequins can be found, including grocery stores, gas stations, abandoned parks, and more. You can make up your own, but check with us if you have any questions about limitations!
The speed and intensity of all mechanics are entirely up to you. Generally, the earlier a character makes first contact, the more severe their consequences.
Investigating the zones or helping others are perfectly fine ways to participate! Since the hitchhikers are meant to be more insidious, it won't be strange if your character isn't in the middle of the action right away or notices things a bit late.

Questions? Ask here

Main Navigation ::: ⇅ Top

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Charles doesn't know what to say to that for a moment. His mind scrambles. He knows what is happening with these mannequins, he's seen people come into the hospital nearly turned into one, with no memories, but it hasn't been personal like this. He sees the effort that it's taking for Erik to even stand and he internally panics because he doesn't know how to fix this physically. But perhaps that's not what is needed. Erik's put distance between them by accident. ]

I'm your best and oldest friend. My name is Charles.

[ It's a new level of pain to imagine a world in which Erik doesn't know him. They've gone through so much together, some of that very down, but it's never changed who they are to each other in the ways that matter. He has to push past this sorrow, it's unhelpful to both of them. He reaches out his hand. ]

Take my hand. Let's go inside. I can help you remember.

[ In this one way, Charles is the best person for someone to be around when everything is going wrong. He will have to find Erik's mannequin and deal with it since he knows that Erik cannot himself. Burning it is the worst case scenario since he knows now what that does to people, but something must be done before it ruins everything. Perhaps they can drop it back off in the quadrants, Charles can do that if he gets it into his van. He'll figure it out once he handles this first.

This is part of what he was worried about with Erik's isolation, that doing so would put him at higher risk when things would go wrong. ]

[ He knows from that silence alone how his own words land, even without having any recollection of this man. He would feel bad, were he not currently more consummed by doubt and fear than anything else, but he also doesn't regret admitting to it. Because trying to pretend like he knew him would not last long, and would not serve a single purpose at the moment.

Unless his purpose was to send this man away and go back to drowning in the hopelessness of his situation, but he's desperate for any chance to fight back, and glimpse of hope that shines his way. When the stranger— Charles; he mustn't forget again— offers a hand to him, he stares down at it, hesitation clear as day in his expression, but there's not enough energy in him to reject the gesture, to worry or be paranoid about this being some kind of trap. How much worse could all this get for him at this point, really.

He reaches out, slow not only because he's hesitant but also because his body only allows him to move so fast right now, and when his palm presses against Charles's, he feels a relief greater than he can put to words. He lets out a shuddered breath, fingers curling tightly, then he moves aside awkwardly so that he has enough room to come inside. ]

I don't know how you will... help. [ He pauses, limping stiffly, trying not to lean too much of his weight on Charles. ] No one I've met until now has been able. I don't even know where it is.

[ By 'it' he means his doppelganger, apparently smart enough to know that sticking around for long wouldn't work out well for it. ]

[ It hurts him to see Erik like this. He has such a strong presence and he is someone who likes to be physical, who probably would see this as a waking nightmare when in full mind. Charles knows a thing or two about very suddenly having less mobility. When they first met, Erik was this uncertain about being close to people, but Charles pushed right past that, he made them connected immediately. He's being gentler about it this time, but it's no less his intention.

Charles threads their fingers together and squeezes, running his thumb over Erik's knuckles as comfortingly as he can. He manages to squeeze his chair in when Erik moves aside and is skilled these days at one-handed movement, so he can keep Erik's hand. He misses his chair that only required a tap of his fingers, but that's not possible now. ]

Take a seat. I'll show you.

[ He moves his chair to the edge of where Erik can take a seat. ]

I cannot fix your body, my friend, not yet, but your mind I can help you with.

[ If he can get Erik back to himself mentally, or at least better aware of the situation, they can figure out the physical next. He may ask for help from Logan or someone else to look for his mannequin. It must look like Erik himself now, with how much he's changed, so they could spot it easier. ]

Look at me.

[ He doesn't think that whatever relief he feels comes from any lingering memories, because no matter how hard he tries, he can't find a single thing that's familiar about this man. It is perhaps that he's just so scared at this point, so unsure of what's going to happen next, and bordering on desperate for any kind of reassurance. How much more terrifying it was to be alone, that now he doesn't know if he could let go of that hand if he had to.

The bed is the only spot where he can really sit, which is more lying down than anything when his side is all but entirely turned to plastic. His free, entirely plastic hand sinks into the mattress as he lands ungraciously, a frown twisting his features before his gaze meets Charles's again, hopeless and genuinely scared. ]

It's not just you that I can't remember, I... I know other things are gone. Other things it took from me.

[ Memories that he knows were personal, important to him. He still has a few, but at this point he doesn't even know if he's lost more than what he's kept. ]

I know them, Erik. You'll understand in a moment. Just take a deep breath.

[ He pulls his wheelchair up to the side of the bed and releases Erik's hand, putting a finger on his temple and caressing the side of Erik's face gently, soothingly. Then he places his fingers at the same spot and instantly he's in Erik's mind. Which is a blank canvas of a sort at the moment, but he can see where it is divided, he can probably track the mannequin who has the other set of his mind after this if need be. It took away Erik and it will be handled, but his priority is giving him what he needs.

When Charles first met Erik, struggling with him in the ocean, he had to scour through his mind and memories. But not all of them, no, he did that because he wanted it, because he's found him the most fascinating mind he'd ever touched. It was addictive, something he's more aware of now that there was so much time in between. But he learned everything, and he never forgot a single thing about Erik. It all lingered in him these years past, and he uses that knowledge to repair Erik's sense of self. He is sorry that he has to make him relive the Holocaust and the trauma of those years with Shaw, but it wouldn't be a kindness to remove it and only show the good things. And it wouldn't be Erik; he is his pain, that's always been him.

He does play up the moments of good in Erik's memory though, the ones that he hadn't touched or forgotten about, so he has a fuller picture. Erik's life will literally flash before his eyes, and it's not only memories, Charles deals in emotions and thoughts. He can't make Erik feel the exact same way, but he'll have Charles's memories of the feelings, and that still matters. He sets him up like he's creating a building, the foundation leading to the walls and ceilings, filling it with himself.

And then Charles shows him their life together. Because it's from Charles's recollection more than Erik's, it shines so much brighter. There is a feeling of absolute love that goes with it, all those moments they shared together when they were friends and thought they had a lifetime together. Or Charles did. Their team, their closeness, it's all in radiant colors, and every moment between them weighted. Including how it ended and the way it broke them both into pieces. Charles has not recovered. This is where his side of things end, because he is not going to show Erik that decade of his pain and misery. He did get general details from Erik's mind when he controlled him at the White House, so he can fill in the rest from their time apart up until Logan arrived.

All of that darkness too; the attempt on Raven, the bonding they did on the plane, the fight at the White House. And then their reunion here, holding hands and teary eyed that first night. It is decades of time crystalized into one lesson for Erik and it happens truthfully in an instant, but it wouldn't feel that way for him. Charles is too gentle on his mind so it shouldn't be painful but perhaps a little overwhelming.

Experiencing all of that again? Erik's past and also theirs? By the time it's over Charles himself is crying, tears flowing unchecked, but he's determined to give Erik the full picture. To paint that color back where the mannequin has sucked it away from him. ]

[ Erik doesn't really have the memories to know what's about to happen. Charles is vague at best and he's only left with more questions than answers, but he doesn't ask them. He just does as told and sits down, waits, lets this stranger reach out to him, touch his face, fingers placed just lightly against his temple.

When it comes, it feels like a flood. Fast, rushing, overwhelming. All of it swallows him at once, even when Charles tries to be careful with it. It's too much pain, too much trauma to unload, and at some point Erik's fear and hopelessness comes from that instead. What is the point of such a life? All that pain and anger, all that loss and grief. To be put through it all time and again, and alone, so alone, that is all he feels for a moment.

It's great timing on Charles's end that he moves on to their first meeting right at that moment. Just as Erik began to wonder the point of it all, he relives the touch of Charles's mind in his own, the first words they spoke to one another, and it feels like breathing in after feeling like he was drowning. It's not without mistakes, those memories still fraught with hurt and loss, but it's different. There's a sense of hope, a light that didn't shine in Erik's earlier memories, and it might just be because it's Charles's own view that he sees in these memories, but that's no less meaningful. Maybe it means even more, because there are feelings attached to them, and Erik knows those feelings are Charles's.

He doesn't really see it through his own mind, doesn't know his own feelings during those times, but does he really need to wonder? Does he not truly know?

There are tears on his own face as well, but he pays them no mind. He doesn't care. His body's still stiff, stolen piece by piece by that mannequin, but his mind is still there, and he is not alone.

He reaches out for Charles's face instead, cupping his cheek, wiping tears away with his thumb. ]

Charles.

[ The name is said with warmth and indescribable relief, and a smile that stretches as far as the plastic on his face allows. They were Charles's memories, but they're his now too, and it's a strange way to think of it when he lacks his own point of view in those moments, but it hardly matters. He has at least a piece of himself back. ]

[ Charles sharing his own memories isn't supposed to be an indictment of Erik's actions and make certain his feelings are coloring it all along the way represents that. Despite everything, he still loves him, believes in him, and hopes for better. He has to because otherwise what was it all for? It has to have meaning. Erik helped him form the X-Men, he taught him what putting mutants first was about. Charles may believe in peace but his love for mutantkind was something they shared and held onto. That's why their bond can never break. If this sharing reveals all of his heart to Erik, it was by choice.

He does the same gesture for Erik, caressing his face again, brushing at the tears, his love still in every movement. It's a reminder to him too of where Erik came from and he has that empathy again, as if he's forgotten why he was so forgiving before of him. Now he remembers. ]

Welcome back, my friend.

[ He smiles through the tears and god, is it moving to see Erik smile like that back at him. His friend rarely does it, but he's always favored Charles with them. He is still part plastic and that is a problem, but at least he can understand now. The mannequin can't take it all away from him, not with Charles still in the world. ]

I'll find it, Erik, and we'll get you back to yourself. I'm not going to let a bloody piece of plastic take you.

[ The past few days have felt hopeless, a pit that got darker and darker the more he lost. Every day it felt like he was closer to losing it all, having nothing left to cling to, not even a sliver of light left to let him know that maybe there is a way back for him.

These memories feels like that, exactly. Charles's mind in his own feels like a light cast on a path, though at the moment he doesn't know whether or not he will find his way back. Just knowing that he isn't alone, and that this can't be taken from him again so long as Charles is there, is a comfort in itself. If he dies, at least he will die with those memories.

He nods, hand shaking, a hitched breath that betrays how scared he still is, in spite of that promise. He wants to believe him, but he doesn't know if any amount of love and dedication can truly make a change. ]

I haven't seen it in two days. [ It tends to come and go, though, sometimes trying to attack him, other times attacking those he knows. Or used to know, anyway. Maybe that is why Erik decided to keep to himself— he doesn't remember every detail, honestly.

He presses his lips, the hand on Charles's face moving down to clutch his shoulder. ] I'm— scared.

[ Charles pushes off his chair and balances himself so he can sit down on the bed next to Erik. Lord knows it's more comfortable than the chair itself, and it's so he can have an even more physical presence for Erik. He can take comfort from Charles as much as he needs. He sees this as permission for that contact, and he cradles his beloved face, brushing fingers through his hair soothingly. They've never been so directly affectionate with each other but if there ever was a time, it had to be now when Erik needs the reassurance.]

I'm here, I will find it, it looks like you. Perhaps it has some of your thoughts and I can track it that way, as I know your mind so well.

[ Charles can ask Logan for help in finding it and choose from there what to do. He'll drag the damned thing out to the quadrants himself to abandon there. He'd rather avoid burning it as that would only hurt Erik, so that would be the first attempt to get rid of it. Leaving the extreme option for later.

He puts his hand over Erik's on his shoulder, squeezing it.]

I will fix this, Erik, I promise. You know how stubborn I get, I'll make it happen.

[ The bed is small, especially when Erik is as tall as he is, but it hardly seems to matter. It fits the two of them just fine, and while Erik can't quite sit up completely, it's not as if Charles himself takes up as much space. Besides, the comfort of having this physical contact is so immense that he would not care even if they had to make do with a space much smaller and much less comfortable.

He shifts closer almost as soon as Charles sits beside him, and his next exhale breaks out of him in a quiet sob, shivering from the effort not to cry out. Were he still without his memories, maybe he would care less about breaking down that badly— as it is, he feels raw enough already, even when it's only Charles here with him.

His cheek presses to Charles's shoulder, tears staining his shirt. Eye shut tightly, he gulps a shaky breath, teeth gritted and lips pressed tight in an attempt to even his own breathing and stop himself from panicking again. ]

What if you can't? [ What if they fail to find it, let alone stop it? What if it takes everything from Erik? What if it's all a little too late, and this steady transformation is seen through to the end? Will there even be anything of him left?

His breathing steadies, and his heart slows in a moment of clarity. He realises then that there might be an ultimate solution, one they might need to consider. One Erik would vastly prefer over being turned completely into plastic.

He pulls back, stiff and awkward, just enough to look Charles in the eye. ]

It if comes to it... I want you to kill me.

[ Put an end to his suffering before it is too late. He would trust no one else to do it. ]

[ Charles knows that he is the only person that Erik tends to be comfortable being emotional and vulnerable with, and he would never judge him for his tears or his need for comfort. If anything he thrives off it, he likes being a caretaker. He runs his fingers through Erik's hair, ignoring the way some of the plastic feels and how much he hates that. A part of him wants to kiss away his tears, to pull all this fear and sadness out of him and swallow it down, take it from him so it's no longer weighing on him.

He shakes his head at the request, horrified right away. The only person he has ever killed was Shaw, to protect Erik, and he otherwise is the wrong person to ask. ]

No. It will not come down to that. [ Charles cups Erik's face in his hands, blue eyes fierce and focused.] Erik, you need to have faith in me. I will protect you.

[ If Erik had told him sooner they might have been able to get ahead of this, but he understands how this happened. And that Erik would seclude himself and forget. It's on Charles for not checking, and he feels that way, looking into that beloved face.]

I promise, we will get through this.

[ He leans his forehead into Erik's.]

[ It's the answer he's expecting, after all the memories Charles poured into his mind, the emotions he felt through the telepath's eyes. How quick he is to reject the possibility comes as absolutely no surprise, and it's all the more reason why Erik is so quick to push back, even as Charles closes that distance further, cupping his face. ]

Charles.

[ He puts his one (mostly) good hand over Charles's, squeezing around his fingers. The hold is tight, firm, but gentle enough not to hurt. But he needs Charles to listen, it's important to him. ]

I don't want to become one of those things. We will try to find it and fix this, but if all hope is lost— please. I trust no one else. Promise me you'll save me, even if it means killing me.

[ He's more terrified of being completely transformed than he is of dying. It's not a goal he wants to work towards, his survival instinct still beating strong in his chest, but it's a last resort; an ultimate solution if all else fails. ]

[ It's a terrible thing to ask of Charles, but can he be surprised, when Erik's already gotten him to kill once before? It's upsetting to be placed in this situation again where it's either do as Erik wants or let him suffer. And as before, Charles cannot let him down, even as his anger boils within him, that Erik would put him in that position again.

Still, Erik's terrified, and he's being faced with something worse than Charles knows for himself. Sometimes love can be flipped around, he knows that only too well, and he feels it in that moment too. He breathes in and out slowly and finds that his empathy wins out. Doesn't it always? ]

Yes. [ He says, clipped, upset.] I will.

[ He releases Erik's face but he takes his hand instead and holds it.]

You're a right bastard for that, Erik. But I'm going to save you.

[ It's not really his intention to place Charles in that position, not consciously anyway. What Charles did with Shaw, for him, doesn't even come to the forefront of his mind. A memory only regained through Charles's experience, and not really one of the handful that he clutches to for some semblance of his own humanity.

He asks because he cannot imagine living like these things. Maybe even frozen in a lifeless doll. And he can't think of anyone else he could go for this— no one else he trust, even if it's largely because Charles has just poured all these memories into his mind just now.

Despite Charles's tone, Erik lets out a shuddered breath of pure relief, his one remaining eye closing as he clings to Charles's hand as tightly as he can. He nods, the movement stiff and limited. ]

Thank you. [ It feels a little like having a light at the end of a very dark tunnel, however morbid that might seem. ] I'm not giving up, I promise you. We'll still try.

[ Charles understands that Erik isn't doing it to be a bastard, he is thinking of his own future, and neither of them want Erik to live as a piece of plastic. Charles would want the same thing in his position, it's just a difficult position to be in, given his very firm stance on not causing harm to others whenever possible. His strict moral code doesn't like wiggle room, at least for himself, he's far more forgiving of others.

The pain of hurting Erik in any way, losing the person he loves by his own hand, would certainly break him for good. It wouldn't matter that it was justified and what Erik wanted. That's not something he can easily come back from. But he has faith in finding the solution to this. All the more incentive to make certain he does. ]

I'll find it, my friend. I'll use my gifts, it will have been seen by others, especially if it looks like you, it'll stand out.

[ Erik may be able to blend, but Charles could spot him in the mind's eye of anyone and track it easily. He tries not to shuffle through minds of strangers, but in this case, necessity trumps politeness.]

The primary ways to get rid of it seem to be fire, which you will feel too but it seems to be the most firm way, or returning them to where they came and leaving them there.

[ This may be the first shred of relief Erik has found in the past few days, enough that even the numbness in half his body is something he manages to push aside, at least for a little while. When he breathes, it's deep and shaky, as if a weight lifted from his chest. He doesn't want to die, truthfully— but until a moment ago he no answers, no solutions, no hope. At least now, whether Charles succeeds in finding his doppelganger or they must resort to the worst possible scenario, at least he has a way out.

He looks down to his plastic hand, letting Charles's option settle for a moment. When he meets his gaze again, he's resolute. ]

Burn it. I want it gone.

[ He doesn't care if it hurts. He can handle it just fine. It's the far better option, because it's quick, an immediate resolution. Taking that thing back would take time and would be far more open to going horribly wrong. He doesn't want to waste that time. ]

[It isn't the kinder option because it will hurt, but Erik is already suffering. In a way feeling it will be better than the numbness he's currently experiencing, and he knows that his friend is no stranger to pain. This will be a cleansing. Charles will feel guilty about it but he also knows it is the surest way to end this. He lifts Erik's hand and presses his cheek to it for a moment.]

I will. I'll go get it right now and handle it. You'll know it's working when you start feeling it.

[ Charles thinks it's better for him to take advantage of the moment and get rid of it, rather than dragging it all the way back to Erik. He may only have a chance or two at finishing this if the mannequin is well enough to make a break for it. Luckily he does have some cards up his sleeve, and some help he can call in. He turns his head and there is the barest touch of his lips against Erik's palm, and then he sets Erik's hand back onto the bed.

He pulls himself back up and into the wheelchair, filled with new purpose.]

I'll come back as soon as it's done to check on you.

[ He doesn't want Charles to go. It feels like the first glimmer of light in the encroaching darkness that the last few days have been, and part of him wants to reach out, to hold onto Charles and beg him not to go.

But he also knows that will solve nothing. There is a plan now, some sense of direction. A notion that he won't be stuck like this permanently. He still wonders how likely Charles is to succeed— after all, if this mannequin has absorbed so much from him, there's a good chance that it knows not to come near while Charles is around. When he is gone, it may take its opportunity to come back to taunt him.

He tries not to think of that. He thinks instead of Charles's words, the promise that he will fix this. The tears on his face as he shared every memory he had of them. The faintest brush of lips against his palm, leaving the skin warm and still tingling.

He closes that hand into a fist, takes a shaky breath, then nods. ]

I'll be here.

[ Not that he can really go anywhere else at this point, with how incapacitated he is. Waiting is all he can do, at this point. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT ∞ LOG — July 125

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

it's your life (sometimes it's gay)

it's either gay, tragic, or both

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

can wrap here or on yours!

wrapped!