☆ Event: Fright Night

[moustre]

Event Log: October, Fright Night

I. The Mist It starts in the middle of the night. As the bells chime for 3 am, a slow fog creeps across the city from all four cardinal directions, swirling low to the ground, shining purplish in the light of the twin moons. It goes without notice for a while, an oddity, easily brushed off as too much rain and the changing temperatures turning it to mist over the cobblestones. The first ones to get caught up in it are the night workers, the drunks leaving the bars, the sailors returning to their ships, anyone out on the streets when it begins. In most cases, the effects are not instantaneous - it takes a little time to sink in before… a. The Transformations Even if you don’t find yourself out on the streets in the middle of the night, the mist creeps its way into buildings through cracks and openings, until exposure is almost guaranteed for everyone in Aefenglom, and even some just outside the Bright Wall in the Outer City. Though a lucky few, Mirrorbound and citizens alike, will find themselves wholly unaffected by the substance and will retain their physical forms and their own right minds, many more find themselves bent to its whims, changing in ways that could never have been predicted. There is little rhyme or reason to what changes occur or how - some simply wake with new parts, uncomfortable, while others run from their homes, panicking as wings tear painfully out of their backs or claws burst forth from their hands. The mist does not discriminate. Humans and Witches find themselves gaining the parts of Monsters, or even creatures that live outside the Wall. Monsters gain parts that don’t match up to their species - Arachne with wings or gills, Turnskin with antlers and Merrow tails, Puca with the teeth and claws of predators or the horns of unicorns or the scales of lizards, such strange sights become more and more common as morning approaches slowly. Mirrorbound may find that they can even gain the features and mannerisms of creatures from their home worlds. It all seems to happen wholly at random. These parts may not even last; plenty of citizens lose their new additions after just hours, only to gain new ones in the meanwhile. In the dark, wee hours of the morning, the city erupts into chaos. b. Widespread Chaos There’s no chance of peace tonight. Some may be lucky enough to escape the mists or its effects somehow, but the vast majority of the city hasn’t -- and it’s telling, from the sounds of people in the streets, that no one’s particularly happy about the turn of events. Many are in pain, many are blind with panic and upset. How could this happen? What’s going on? Many of the shouts attribute blame to the Coven allowing the practice of at-times experimental magics, while others turn it into anti-Monster sentiment, claiming the Monster population wants them all to suffer the way they do. Other tinfoil-hat-ists spread their conspiracy theories loudly, laying the blame squarely on Dorchacht - retribution for the Monsters the Mirrorbound stole from their city. This is an attack, they shout! The actual truth remains to be seen, however. There are plenty who don’t care about the truth and pay little attention to the rumors. They’re opportunists at heart, and a city in chaos is good for lining pockets. Some less-affected and less-moral citizens take to the streets of the Shopping and Aristocratic districts, throwing rocks through windows, banging down doors, looting shops and the houses of the wealthy of whatever valuables they can carry with them. Even a gang of kids from one of the orphanages in the Harbor District, sporting their own mismatched new features, can be spotted roaming the city, looting stores and homes, stealing from people incapacitated in the streets. They can’t pass up an opportunity when they have so little to begin with. c. State of Emergency Parliament, in contact with the Coven, is quick to declare a state of emergency in Aefenglom. A magical announcement rings out all through the city, loud and impossible to miss. Those who can keep it together are called upon to help find some sort of order before things devolve too badly and more damage is done than can be fixed. People will get hurt if things continue like this, they could even be looking at casualties. Those who have learned healing magic are asked to report to makeshift first aid stations scattered around the city to help those dealing with more violent, bloody transformations. Anyone with prior law enforcement experience are tasked with helping contain and stop the looting and the muggings. More still are called to try and figure out some way to get rid of the mist, or reverse its effects. None of the assignments are mandatory, plenty are unable to assist as they deal with their own afflictions, but any help is greatly appreciated.

II. Damage Control The chaos of the first night dies down somewhat by noon the next day. The air of forgiveness and cleaning up for the new year that was present at the beginning of the month is gone as the violet mist still spreads, wreaking havoc with the citizens of Aefenglom. Human citizens take it worse than the Monster half of the city, but one of the side-effects hits the Monster community harder. It quickly becomes apparent that the effects of this never-before-seen magic are not only physical. Fights break out over anything from minor slights to things worth fighting about, blossoming from a few thrown punches to all-out brawls that spill into the streets. Anger and agitation increase in most affected citizens, and you can cut the tension in the air with a knife. Relief efforts have to be redirected. Some can keep it together just enough to go about their daily lives as best they can with their new ‘additions’, but others rapidly start to lose their minds in ferality, even those with strong Witch-Monster Bonds. Miss Nessie is quick to whip the Coven into action to help preserve the peace as much as possible. There isn’t enough room to contain so many feral citizens, but they try to make do. All available Mirrorbound, Witch and Monster, who are able and want to help contain the people of Aefenglom or each other are taught a simple knock-out spell, or given slips of paper enchanted with the same, to literally knock some sense into the ferals. It won’t hurt them in the long term, but it will give them a time-out and help pull their minds out of their pits of animal instinct. Plenty of citizens will be thankful for this. That doesn’t mean everyone is happy to see the Mirrorbound around town. They may notice that they get more scowls while they’re out and about, more whispers and dirty looks. They come from humans the most, but especially the wealthier people of the city, dealing with their own share of terrible transformations, who mutter under their breaths words like, “Knew they would bring trouble with them. Knew it right from the start.” Known Mirrorbound may find themselves being kicked out of higher class shops in the Shopping District, or even spit on in the streets. Poorer citizens, especially Monsters, see things differently, however: they’ve seen the refugees from Dorchacht, they know what was done for some of their kind. They’ll admit that the Mirrorbound have brought trouble with them, but a little trouble isn’t always a bad thing - sometimes you’ve got to shake things up and disturb the status quo. Though they’re dealing with bizarre changes and an increased risk of going feral, they have faith that the Mirrorbound will help solve this problem. Of course, this difference in opinion just means both sides argue louder and fight harder.

III. The Refugees For those who’d found themselves rehomed, mostly Monsters and what few Witches came with, this is not what they had expected from a “full moon”. They’d been warned that certain urges would be stronger, that magic could wax and wane like the moons themselves, but this? This rampant disorder, the odd turning present in so many citizens and Mirrorbound alike, the Coven and Parliament’s bid on attempting some sort of damage control--? Is this what they left Dorchacht for, from one far too controlling city to one that didn’t seem to have any control at all? They aren’t in chains, at least. They can choose their Bonds if they’d like one. But it’s put them on edge enough that some linger by the docks, both wanting to leave to someplace “safe” in their eyes and wishing to stay. The latter wins out in most cases, seeking to help the Mirrorbound as they were helped themselves, though they may be suffering from the mists themselves... oddly, they seem to be more aware of themselves in a way that the natives are not, likely learned behavior leftover from Dorchacht to keep themselves in check; the compulsion spell had only helped compulsion, after all, there’d been a genuine want to remain secure and safe in their minds even with the situation as it was. Unfortunately, there’s plenty of locals who see the refugees as part of the problem -- before the Mirrorbound, before Dorchacht, Aefenglom had been fine, and in continuing these thoughts, they’re not... the friendliest to outsiders. Some are more likely to retaliate violently with new-found additions to their physiology and skillset when the refugees attempt to help, with whispers, conspiracy theories, and nasty rumors all the while spreading at a rapid pace. As bad as Dorchacht had been, maybe they had a point about the strange, suggestive magic used across the city. Maybe it’s something Aefenglom should look into too, during the fuller moons, should this be the beginning of something worse as the new year rises at the end of the month. But hopefully -- and this is the hope of all -- it simply remains a one-off, freak happening at the end of the year, and they pray the new one fares better.

IV. The Aftermath Thanks to quite a bit of Mirrorbound assistance, the city is still largely in one piece by the end of the day after the full moons. The mist, an unstable alchemical compound, eventually breaks down into nothing after a day or so, and the effects all fade or reverse, leaving everyone in their normal bodies and feeling clear-headed as the moons start to wane again. There are issues of property damage, stolen goods, and political discord to deal with, but the hardest to handle is perhaps the guilt of those who went feral and attacked their friends and loved ones. Samuin preparations continue with an unusual gloom hung over the city as clean-up and reparations commence. While before, though, humans and Monsters could often be found on the bridge over the River Temese, making amends with one another, the activity almost entirely ceases, leaving the bridge empty most days from now until Samuin.

Welcome to October's event log! This event takes place ICly on the 12th, 13th, and 14th. The Questions thread can be found HERE! Please help us and other players out by putting the subject(s) of your questions in your header! Investigation briefs will be going out soon on the OOC Sign Ups thread to the teams who were chosen by RNG, so keep an eye out for that. And as always, while we do encourage you to use this log, you can feel free to thread things out on your own log or elsewhere.

Comments

[ua_duibhne]

[Diarmuid's never seen him like this- for that matter, he suspects few if any others have- but it's a sight that appeals to every animal instinct coursing through him. He's hard as hell, barely keeping himself together as each crook of his fingers sparks a chain reaction of writhing and moans. It's enough that he's forced to hold his tail in place as he works the dragon up into even more of a frenzy.

Again, it ends infuriatingly abruptly as he withdraws his fingers but less so is the embrace that follows. Diarmuid wraps an arm around Berserker from behind, lifting his chin so that he can capture his lips in a kiss over his shoulder. Messier now, hungrier, and as he grinds against him, dizzying in its mix of affection and dominance.

Which is probably why he can't help it. With a soft chirp if his own, ears pressed back against his dark hair, he nuzzles his neck. The words are caught against his skin but clear enough:]

... I love you, Cú. And even if you don't or can't feel the same I...

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ That declaration cuts through the haze like a knife. Berserker freezes beneath him, eyes widening briefly in shock as his pulse quickens. He doesn't exactly have a good track record with people who declare their love for him, but this is different: Diarmuid isn't obsessed with him, isn't trying to claim him or control him with those words. It's genuine and warm without any ulterior motives.

It's not that he doesn't feel the same way, it's more that he's still too broken to have a concept of what it means to love someone. He's fiercely devoted to the witch and holds a deep affection for him; it's the closest thing to love he's capable of. Another complicating factor is that he can't exactly speak how he feels right now. He's too much of a mess, too lost to the moons to give an answer that this deserves.

After a few moments (which are likely deeply agonizing for Diarmuid), Berserker relaxes. Since he's been reduced to little more than animal instincts, he responds in the only way he can. A familiar low rumble starts to resonate in his chest -- both a reassurance that those words change nothing and that he feels at least something similar. Leaning his weight on one arm, he gently places his hand on the back of the witch's head. It's fine.

With that tender moment handled, Berserker rocks back into him. He's still desperately worked up and wants nothing more than his lover to finally take him. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[The silence is painful. And worth it. It's more of a response that he had expected and Diarmuid makes no attempt to hide his relief, burying his face in Berserker's neck for a few moments as he soaks it in. Even without saying anything, he undestands what he's getting at, which is why it takes all of his self-control not to melt against him and let the mood he'd worked so hard to build up go. All he allows himself is a soft, breathy-]

... thank you.

[- and a kiss on the jaw before getting back to work. Namely, the task of making Berserker see more metaphorical celestial bodies than they had literal ones together at the lighthouse.

With only a hint of reluctance, Diarmuid draws back again- but only for a moment. Abandoning the slow, teasing pace from before, he finally, finally eases the head of his cock inside him, giving the dragon only a moment to catch himself before the rest follows. The sensation is dizzying and, while he's not sure whether it's more intense than usual because of his heightened physical or emotional state, he's not about to fight it. Instinct kicks in and he begins to move, just barely holding back the desire to take him every bit as hard and fast as he wants to.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ Truth be told, Berserker had been expecting more teasing. Diarmuid worked him up so well and he'd been so methodical about it that it only made sense for there to be more. He didn't consider that the witch is equally worked up, equally being driven mad by whatever is in the air tonight. So when he's finally penetrated, he lets out a frenzied cry. After being denied for what felt like ages, it's such a relief. With no time to adjust, Berserker claws at the sheets as his back curves. It's beautifully intense, leaving him no time to think. He meets (and probably exceeds) Diarmuid's rhythm, hungry for as much as he can get.

His head swims from the overwhelming sensations, everything clouded further by the witch's familiar scent mixing with sweat, arousal, and a hint of blood. There's nothing logical left in him, just an overstimulated beast happy to submit to the man who was headstrong enough to dominate him so thoroughly. Berserker might come without even so much as a hand on his cock. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[There's something utterly hypnotising about him like this. Arched back; skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat; muscles moving in elegant synchronicity; wings flared; that sound. For a few moments, Diarmuid is overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings. Gods, he's handsome and strong but it's the trust he has in him that takes his breath away almost as completely as his body does.

Whether or not he's even realised it, Diarmuid's grip on his hips has tightened enough that his claws bite into his skin deeper with each moment. He matches Berserker's pace with ease, his own unnatural lust overcoming his usual preference for something slower and gentler. It's with one particularly rough thrust that he moves back over his lover again so that he can turn his attention back to his wings. This time, though, short, sharp bites come littered amidst the kisses.

Mo ghrá thú.

He tries to say it, he really does, but his lips are otherwise occupied.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ A particular spot inside him draws louder sounds from him. Berserker angles his hips so Diarmuid's cock his it with each pass. Added to the sharp prick of the claws on his hips, it drives him wilder than before. He barely has time to react to the targeted assault on his senses. His wings stretch out as Diarmuid pays attention to them again, his back tenser than ever. His cries are completely unrestrained and there's no way he can hold out any longer.

Jaw clenched, pawing desperately at the mattress beneath him, the dragon gets closer and closer to the edge. His cocks throbs, aching for release, as he whimpers in desperation. No one has ever seen him like this and it's unlikely anyone else ever will -- it's a sign of deep trust to be so absolutely vulnerable and completely undone. Without any direct touch, Berserker comes suddenly. Diarmuid's cock gets squeezed and released in his orgasmic release, as if trying to milk him to his own. He doesn't stop pushing back into the witch, wanting nothing more than to be filled with his seed -- it's almost like a want to be bred it's so base a desire. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[Ah, so that's it. Even without his assistance, Diarmuid's picked up on that particular position from the crack in his voice and the way he squeezes around him with every stroke. Earlier in the night, he might have played with that more but he's too overwhelmed to do much more than indulge him now, dragging both of them nearer to the brink.

Berserker might be the first to breach it but, like a domino knocked into place, Diarmuid follows soon after. He was already close but in those moments, it's enough to make his vision turn white hot, dragging the last of his voice out in a soft cry as he comes. In an unconscious final thrust, he slams into him, half-animal mind vaguely concerned with filling him as much as possible. As he crumples over him, breath coming in hard, hot gasps and chirps, he makes no immediate move to withdraw.]

Cú...

[Weakly, the lancer nuzzles his hair. If he's lucky, his scent will linger on Berserker for a few days to come and-

- and he needs to get a handle on those kinds of thoughts. The first step, as much as he hates to admit it, is to let go of him and pull out, which he does with a soft huff. At least he's too tired and satisfied to be embarrassed about it.

Still, as he drops down onto the bed beside him, he holds an arm out.]

... come here...

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ There it is, the heat inside him filling him. It's all he can do to not collapse into the mess beneath him in an exhausted heap. Diarmuid's familiar warmth and weight over him is a comfort, right up until he moves off of him. He only moves his eyes to look over at him when the command is given, too exhausted to do much else. Still caught up in the feral haze that has its grip on him, he wants to resist. Berserker's far too weak to do so, though, and slowly makes his way into his waiting embrace. He buries his face into the Lancer's neck as he starts to purr in his own strange way again. His scent helps to ground him after the intensity of their sex.

He stays snuggled up against him, still unable to speak. His mind is calmer than it has been since this nonsense started, the feral instincts and urges pushed back to the far corners once again. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[As soon as he's within reach, Diarmuid wraps an arm around Berserker, pulling him against his chest- though not nearly as tightly as he'd like. Though he's still basking in the afterglow, he's still wary of being too clingy after making such a firm declaration of his feelings; he knows by now what those three words must bring to mind.

Rather, he sates himself with just brushing his hair back and kissing the other man's forehead. The magic from their bond pulses strongly between them, a warm glow that soothes his thoughts enough that Berserker will probably notice his tail begin to wag ever so slightly.

His chest heaves with a sigh.]

... would it be too much to say it again?

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ The gentle, warm affection slowly brings him back from the edge. He can feel Diarmuid's tail wagging...It's cute, really. Berserker snuggles in closer, putting an arm around him. Anything to maximize their contact right now. He wants to give him an answer, but he's still fighting with his brain for control. ]

If...it's what...you feel... [ His voice is guttural, words all but growled. He's regaining himself, at least. ] Say...it.

[ It really is different from Diarmuid. It's not a reminder of the woman he resents so much and her obsession with him; it's an expression of genuine affection, of something they built together. He can't understand why the Lancer feels the way he does or why he's stuck by him for so long, but he's not about to spurn the man who has so much faith in him. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[It really wasn't the best time or way to say it- and that's still true but Diarmuid wastes no time in repeating himself even as he feels the rush wearing off. If anything, now that the singing in his veins, that curious mix of animal instinct and desire, has been quietened, he can fully appreciate the moment. With a feline stretch, Diarmuid settles into the bed properly.]

I love you, Cú Chulainn. [He strokes his hair, teasing it out of its ponytail so that he can smooth it between his fingers.] And I'm honoured that you let me.

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ That name...it's no longer his. It doesn't change the sentiment, of course, or the strangely warm feeling that accompanies it. Berserker drapes himself over Diarmuid once he's settled in, more than happy to stay like this for awhile.

He strokes his fingers across the Lancer's cheek, tender and warm. ]

...Caster named me earlier. [ It's an odd thing to say. It ended up being far more significant a moment than either of them expected, being given a new name by a reluctant druid. How far they'd come from trying to kill each other... ] Ciarán Cú. You can still call me Cú.

[ua_duibhne]

[Ciarán Cú... the darkness to Cú Chulainn's light. And yet there's no inherent sense of condemnation in the observation; it is simply a part of him, an acknowledgement of his identity as valid and independent. Diarmuid tests the new name in his head a few times before, finally, nodding.]

... it suits you well. [With a smile, he places a small, loving kiss on his forehead.] Aye. I'm honoured to be the lover of Ciarán Cú.

[Overly sentimental? Probably, but it's never been much of a deterrent before when they're together like this, particularly not when Berserker's being so affectionate.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

...You're too sentimental for your own good sometimes.

[ That observation would have more bite to it if he didn't have a faint smile on his lips. It's something he appreciates about Diarmuid, really -- it's such a part of who he is that he can't scorn him for it. Gently tease about it? Sure, but nothing more serious than that.

Berserker lets his eyes close. Normally, their Bond is enough to keep his feral thoughts at bay, especially when they're touching like this. Something is different about tonight, something unpleasant. The thoughts are already tearing at him again...A little while longer. He'll stay here a little while longer before going into the night. ]

You...are everything to me, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. [ Who's being sentimental now? ] You've done so much for me.

[ A confession. It's only fair he speak his feelings as honestly as he can. ]