lucetilogs | FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE, MY FELLOW LUCETIANS

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

-And Patchy? Patchy has mistaken Flandre for a Hitlerjugend. Which means she's going to scream her own head off and run away. Because magic doesn't work on anyone who wears that accursed mark...-

[Someone...someone running. Running away. Even though Patchouli's scream makes her flinch away, instinct is telling her to chase, chase, chase--and isn't leaving any room for intervening thought.

The vampire has taken off, though her flight is unsteady at best. She hasn't caught up to her just yet, but she just might. And soon.]

Edited 2010-10-28 22:01 (UTC)

-OH GOD HAVE MERCY! Patchy can't run forever, and eventually find herself cowering in a corner.-

[Aaand...once again, Flandre misses. The blow that would have smashed Patchouli's head into the wall instead connects with said wall somewhere above it, causing her arm to sink up to the elbow in splinters.

Flandre snarls--mostly in frustration, and only a little pain even though more than a dozen tiny cuts have been ripped open on her arm--and the vampire tries to pull herself free, flapping and struggling only a little bit above Patchy's head.]

-Patchy does the only thing she can do... cowering and crying hysterically.-

[Flandre tears her arm out of the wall and...that wasn't right. That wasn't what happened next.

Her snarling stops, and she backs away, shaking her head.]

...who's there?

-Patchy is still cowering below, clutching at her head and crying. She manages to speak some, but it's all begging and pleading in French not to her her and the others.-

[...she lands a small distance away. That was the right language, yes--but not the right words. Not right at all--and was that her name?]

...you're not supposed to say that.

-She continued begging, thinking it was just some soldier in front of her still. And yes, she regularly mentioned Flandre's name. Begging Flandre not to... hurt Flandre. She obviously wasn't all there.-

[That wasn't right. That wasn't right.

The vampire backs away, shaking her head. There was an order to her nightmares, and...this wasn't it.]

-Still crying, still cowering, still French.-

[Cautiously, Flandre steps forwards, reaches out as if to touch this cringing figure--

--and then she hears gunshots. Hallucinatory ones they may be, but they sounded very real to her--as was the way that the wall exploded into splinters in a hail of bullets.

With a terrified shriek, the vampire whirls away and takes off again as fast as her unsteady wings can carry her.]

FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE, MY FELLOW LUCETIANS

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