FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE, MY FELLOW LUCETIANS

[fourteen]

Who: EVERYONE
What: TRAUMA!
When: ALL THE TIME
Where: ANYWHERE
Summary: HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE TRAUMA. FREE FOR ALL IN THE SCARRING EXPERIENCES DEPARTMENT.
Rating: Gosh. I'm not sure. However, I suggest you hide your little'uns.

Basically, the purpose of this log is TRAUMA SPAM. If you didn't want to spam your flist with extra posts, or you wanted to post with more than one character -- or more than one character more than once! -- here is your place to be.

This will be a commentspam style log where you can thread start with your character hallucinating things. Whatever you wish it to be! It can even just be a more general thread start where they're not hallucinating anything -- yet. And each thread can get treated like a post, where that character's CR can react to the trauma going down!

If you still wish to actually post in your character's journal, you're of course totally allowed to do so. This is just here for funtiems and convenience for everyone who wanted a greater chance to post during this event! Feel free to use it anytime over the next few days, through Halloween, to do "posts" and threads with your characters.

Have at, guys!

Comments

[In Town/Around Forest] why did I not see this convenient log ;A;

[notabluesbro]

[Going back to the apartment after speaking with Vash was a bad idea. Not only did the hallucinations seem to double, but he had to be in them, of all people. So without a word (but a small note of "I'll be back before dark, don't worry") Wolfwood left his community house the next day and ventured through the town with a destination in mind. Running into him here may be a little more troublesome for him, as he's busy pacing passed everyone and noting in mild shock that all their heads are bursting into pulps and then becoming completely normal in the blink of an eye.

He just puffs on his cigarette and focuses on the greenery ahead—the forest. When he's finally just a small ways into the wooded area, he slings off his cross, collapses against a fallen log, and closes his eyes in an attempt to block out the remaining images flashing across his vision. He's already finding it far easier to control it among a silent green backdrop, and so with his one bent smoke burning away between his lips he tries to make the most of it and close his eyes—

The sound of a gunshot forces them right back open, his shoulders go upright... and he's surprised to see himself, younger and holding that old gun right at him like all those years ago. He manages a defiant but strained smirk at this.]

What are you looking at?

[Wolfwood wondered if there would be some smear of blood on him if he inspected himself, but he doesn't bother, because it lasts for mere seconds before the scene is gone. He falls wearily back and crushes the bottoms of his palms into the round creases of his eye sockets.

It's not real, but the most shattering thing about these hallucinations for many people, he thinks, is that once upon a time... most of them were.]

[salvationfound.livejournal.com]

[Kratos' own nightmares are coming to life, but for all the world, he looks as if he's unaffected. It's simply how he deals with things like this - give it no attention, it isn't really there. Not even his own son with his sword pointed at Kratos like he did several years ago slowed him down, and he seemed to stare right through the boy as he passed through him, unharmed.

A man sits with his back to a log - Kratos can see this with his enhanced vision, even if the man is partially blocked by some of the shrubbery. Kratos changes his path and heads toward him. He knows that some of these people could use some guidance, and though this person looks like he might not need it, it couldn't hurt to try.]

[notabluesbro]

[Wolfwood looked over his shoulder at where the man would be popping up—and his somewhat tense demeanor lessens; the guy looks all right, though he'd still have his guard up around the new appearance. After all, this event was a great place to be a little paranoid.

He just leans one arm over his crucifix and manages a friendly glance at the redhead.]

Hi there. Nice day we're having, hn?

[salvationfound.livejournal.com]

[Kratos gives a nod, a... friendly gesture from him, anyway. He looks up at the dark sky - a spray of blood heads for him, but he just lowers his head and ignores it.]

I suppose one could call it nice, yes.

[notabluesbro]

And what might you be doing out here? [He reaches toward a chest pocket, and frowns when he remembers he's not in his suit—so he goes for his coat pocket instead and has a cigarette ready at hand.] After all, I hear it's getting more and more dangerous out here.

[salvationfound.livejournal.com]

To help those who are suffering. The worst part of doing so is to do it alone.

[Kratos can handle these illusions, after all. But he knows that there are others out there who can't.

... It's what Lloyd would do.]

And what of you?

[notabluesbro]

That's an admirable thing to do—you definitely have my blessings, padre.

[He pinches the bridge of his nose, re-collecting his bearings after a few of those nasty little hallucinations scratched their way into his vision. But other than that, he seems calm. Controlled.]

They're not... too bad. Seeing something that's not really there is something I'm not exactly something I'm used to, but they're not images I'm foreign with.

[A pause.]

Though, I'm having a harder time around crowds of people so...

I guess I'll just stay out here, until the fog wants to roll back in.

late joiner, y/n?

[endthem.livejournal.com]

[Legato is still wandering through the woods, without a clear idea of where he's going. All he knows is that he needs to get away from them. But, as 'they' keep appearing and disappearing in his mind's eye, he's finding that he's doing nothing but going in circles, losing all sense of direction in trees that he doesn't know how to navigate, chased by the familiar sound of dragging chains]

NO NEVER!! :D

[notabluesbro]

[Wolfwood can hear something in the distance—faint, very faint, but growing in noise. He sits up, tense, and waits; at this point, it could be anything. Hell, maybe even what's been attacking people in the fog... or maybe yet another awful hallucination to piss him off.]

>:3

[endthem.livejournal.com]

[lucky you, Wolfwood. You are right in the path of one very disoriented mass-murderer. Staring straight through what is in front of him, trying his damnedest to not see the ropes of maggots crawling over the bark of the trees, Legato doesn't notice the priest he is approaching... not as being real, anyway]

[notabluesbro]

[When he sees Legato, he doesn't jump to his feet in surprise, doesn't shout or anything that would suggest he was going to attack the man. He knew there was nothing he could really do at the moment—neither of them could do much, during these images.

Doesn't mean he can't be seething in reply as he clasps his gun and leans against the tree log.]

What a surprise, seeing you out here.

[endthem.livejournal.com]

[he stares sightlessly at Wolfwood for a moment when he speaks, almost in surprise. The corpse was dressed in the priest's clothes, carried his weapon. But his flesh hung in bloody strips from his bones. He could smell the rot on him.]

[lightly, matter-of-factly] You're dead.

[notabluesbro]

[Wolfwood perks a brow at him.]

You know that better than anyone, don't you?

[He's got a cigarette dwindling away in one hand, and smokes it quietly, eying the man up for a moment. He was seeing things, too.]

[endthem.livejournal.com]

[and then, in the next moment, his vision clears. It's just Wolfwood-- the real one, still living. A frown marks this moment and he glances back the way he came, searching for something that might help him catch his bearings. There was only a short amount of time before it would happen again...]

[notabluesbro]

[He can't help but find a little satisfaction in the look that crosses the man's face briefly.]

Not so fun when it's you getting messed with, is it?

[endthem.livejournal.com]

This is purposeless...

[he trails off as he distractedly grips his wrist, feeling the sudden bite of invisible shackles. It was starting again already...]

[notabluesbro]

[Wolfwood narrows his eyes, wondering what was running through that man's strange mind. Someone as fucked up as him had to have some pretty intense memories running rampant on him.]

Then you should go ahead and hallucinate somewhere else, so we're all a little happier.

[endthem.livejournal.com]

You're just so clever, aren't you?

[he'd love to comply, really. The last thing he wants to do is lose his mind around someone who he is mostly sure is actually Wolfwood. But it's hard to ignore the sounds, now. Throaty chuckles, that horrid grating voice.

Lucky priest. He gets to see Legato in obvious growing distress... but it's also pretty clear that his hold on himself is beginning to slip]

[notabluesbro]

[Wolfwood rises slowly to his feet, pulling the cross slowly over one shoulder. He has a holster in the inside of his coat where the usual handgun remained, but he made no motion to it—not yet. He knows that he can't evade fighting him someday... He's just not sure when Legato will decide to.

Right now? Seems like an unstable bridge ready to fall in on itself. He speaks in a low hum directed at himself as he turns on his heel.]

So you are human after all. Fancy that.

[endthem.livejournal.com]

[he doesn't hear Wolfwood. Not over the laughing-- on every side, that disgusting laugh. How was it this clear in his mind when he hadn't heard it in so many years? He wants to get away, find some place where nothing is, but that requires him to open his eyes.

...And when he does, the reaction is immediate. As if the vision was looming, just waiting for him to look, it pounces on him in an instant. That face--that face--is right there, grinning down at him, and he lashes out. ...Unfortunately, the only mind there to grab is Wolfwood's, mentally reaching for the muscles of his legs and twisting]

[notabluesbro]

[Wolfwood's legs give out almost immediately, because he's never had to feel the affect of Legato's powers—he grips his cross tightly, managing to stay on his knees despite the overwhelming force curling his muscle. Seething—it was seething. All he wanted was to stop it.

The other man didn't look lucid... Hell, even though he was batshit crazy, he at least had some sort of twisted purpose in his eye. Now, it was just emotions spawned by something he wasn't really seeing.

And he might just be prepared to kill the priest. With this in mind, Wolfwood drew the handgun from under his coat, aimed as best he could toward the man, and fired—]

[endthem.livejournal.com]

[now they were shooting at him. They caught him, and now they were going to shoot him. Again.

He caught the flick of the shooter's arm just in time, both nudging the weapon and twisting his own body to the side quickly to avoid the bullet, and it just barely grazes by. Punching a hole in his coat; hitting the tree behind him.

He needed to stop this. He needed to end that grinning piggish face. So...he slithers his way to the gunman's arm, then. Bending, pulling, twisting... aiming to turn that gun around on the gunman's own face...]

1/2

[notabluesbro]

[Shit, shit, there really is no way to pull out of this sort of grasp, is there—? Looking down the barrel of your own gun was bad enough, but knowing that maybe your murderer would end up killing you again was almost beyond the panic of knowing death was close at hand again. Literally, at that...

He struggles against the hold, instinctively leaning his chin back away from the muzzle, gritting his teeth—

and the gun goes off with a sharp crack, a whipping boom]

2/2

[notabluesbro]

[...safe.

Between his face and the smoking gun rested the wound-up cross, a small indention in the metal, beyond an insignificant rip in the tan fabric. Wolfwood peers darkly at Legato from beyond the arm of the crucifix, a bead of sweat on his cheek and a long-held breath finally gasping out of him. His hand still shakes under Legato's control, the nose of the gun click-clacking against the cross with every sharp tremble of his wrist.]

[endthem.livejournal.com]

[there is a moment there where everything wavers, and it almost seems as though he's going to let Wolfwood go. That gunshot changed the vision, temporarily dispersing it. One beat, and then another, just hanging onto Wolfwood's limbs and struggling back towards reality.

The world never quite reaches the point where it makes any sense, however. The sounds of chains come scraping along again, rattling in his ears, the sensation of hands latching onto his arms suddenly... and he fights back.

Staring at nothing, he wrenches whatever he has his mental fingers around, blindly just trying to harm or destroy whatever he can reach]