overjoyed_logs | Count the bodies like sheep

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Count the bodies like sheep | Open

Who: Lapis and OTA (+ some closed prompts)
Where: The Meshwork
When: Throughout Chapter 4
Summary: A catch-all for Lapis' dreams!
Restrictions/Warnings: Violence, supernatural spookiness, will add more warnings if anything pops up!

[Just a log for all of Lapis' dream stuff! I'll be doing an ota prompt, but if you want a unique dream just hit me up at Lapis' planning comment or at

moonpaper!]

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[It's dark here, out in the graveyard. The few lamps around fizzle, illumination coming and going, casting brief flashes of light on the gravestones and the overgrowth on them. But there's voices not too far from here – one a young woman, and the others more... Echo-y. Like they're not really there.

Lapis sits not too far away, curled up by one of the gravestones as she looks up at her companions, floating and hovering around her, able to see them clearly despite how transparent they are. Each one has some kind of injury, their cause of death apparent, and it some cases it's gruesome to look at – but there's nothing to fear. These are her friends, the only friends she's ever really had. They're harmless to her.

But that isn't always the case for everyone else.]

[yeah please count on this one to be mulish with the peace-- even when its a dream. He comes bounding out of the light, staring into the mist that are her friends.

Badou's quiet, which is dangerous if you know him long enough, as he peers around. For a moment it doesn't appear he's too worried.

He stops at one gravestone, curious:]

Now did you choke on a chicken wing before you went or what.

Edited (I couldn't do a cock joke yet it felt Wrong) 2017-03-18 06:05 (UTC)

[Well that... certainly gets their attention. And they actually seem to consider it for a moment, the spirits chattering among themselves before Lapis points at the one whose... throat is kind of in pieces, yeah.]

He's most likely to have done that.

[he finds himself impressed despite himself, whistling and squinting]

Damn-- you sure know some party people dontcha.

[How gory the ghosts appear is the least terrifying thing about this situation. Not that Hijikata is afraid! At all! He rubs his bicep just a few times - because it's cold, right? it's totally cold - before forcing himself to stand straight.

His fingers are ice.

As he walked through the graveyard - briskly searching for the exit - he'd stumbled upon Lapis's perch and her 'friends'.

He hasn't been able to look away. Normally he'd ~~make like a bat out of hell~~ suddenly remember he left the oven on and leave, but there's something entrancing about the lingering spirits.

He feels as if he knows them.

But that's not possible, so Hijikata tries to banish the notion from his mind as he steps forward. Surely it's the girl he'll recognize-] Uh- [Stellar introduction.]

[It's damp and sticky, the old wallpaper on the walls peeling from the humidity, the heat almost unnatural at this time of night. The smell of rotting wood and iron hangs heavily in the air, the smell making Lapis feel sick to her stomach – there's no escape from it, and the sound of distorted groaning and scratching around her only makes it worse.

This spirit is a violent one, one that's already made an attack - her side aches from an old vase being thrown at her and she's certain she's sprained her ankle when the weak floors were forced open under her feet. Her own spirits gather around her protectively, and are the reason why that spirit doesn't try again, just bides its time and hopes to scare Lapis away. But she isn't scared, this is normal. She's used to this.

She has to stop this spirit one way or another, kids have already been badly hurt after coming in here for stupid dares. 'Accidents' it was always claimed, but it's always been more than that. It has to be stopped.

So she coughs, bringing a long, white sleeve to her nose to try and combat the smell – forcing herself deeper into the house. Despite her disgust, she's still as calm and impassive as always. She's far too used to this by now.]

[ Something calls this place home, here where the air is dank with miasma and moldered vapors, the heat of the day drawn into the woodworking as though it were harvested energy, fuel for whatever spirit it is that claws, groans, and rasps its exasperation at Lapis' presence. It can harm her no further, the Lady in white, and while Sion would much rather be at her side (she is hurt, and it pains him that he cannot support her), he treads before her in silent procession, specter-like himself.

In plainest terms, he is "the bait", unguarded where Lapis is shielded by the ghosts she's befriended. True, he could have chosen to remain within her circle of protection, but then Lapis' injuries would have been sustained for naught—where the spirit they seek might be too weak to set upon Lapis again, Sion is a different story. If he is able to draw the spirit out of hiding, then Lapis will be able to finish her task: laying the revenant to rest.

Giving pause, Sion turns back to catch Lapis' eyes with his own, his expression one of heartache— ]

What tragedy must have befallen a soul, for someone to willfully imprison themselves here?

[ To linger on in the disembodied sounds which seem to coalesce around him, some unseen force pressing in upon his chest until his breathing becomes labored, his body trembling despite himself.

(Good, then, let it fall upon him. The sooner Lapis is able to help the spirit, the better for everyone—both the living and the dead.) ]

[It's an old, decrepit building – something once used for some purpose or another, now it's covered in debris and the walls are littered with graffiti. There's a constant sound in the back, something tapping and scrapping against the concrete over and over, the sound both faint but echoing all around. Above that, the soft sobs of trapped victims fill the air, killed by either the accident that shut this facility down or by the malevolent ghost that lies further within.

Among the graffiti, there's a few, bright splatters of red along the wall, the source of it hunched over and breathing heavily. One eyes closed as blood drips from the wound on her head, the white of her dress becoming stained – she really needs to wear other colours, but that's a thought for another day. Lapis has fought the spirit, hurt it, and now it retreats – her own ghostly companions backed up by those trapped here. It's many against one.

But it hurts, dust fills her lungs and consciousness drifts in and out – that blow to the head was harder than she thought. One spirit holds her upright, a burned man who holds Lapis protectively.]

... You should leave. [Though it's uncertain if she's talking to the ghost, or the other living person here.]

[ Whether the other person is living can be questioned - he looks ethereal, still human-shaped and formed but with skin white-pale like parchment (or perhaps white wood), his whole body glowing a faint gold like his hair and eyes. Red-black thorned vines encircle his body and climb through his hair, digging lacerations into his exposed skin which still bleed as they talk. ]

Why so?

[ There is darkness in here, suffering. That should not be. ]

[Either way, Lapis still regards him calmly, a hand held to the bloody wound on her head. One gold eye regards him, the other squeezed shut under the flow of blood, the pain that rushes through her apparently not affecting her at all, with how steady her voice is still.]

It's dangerous, you could get hurt. This spirit has already hurt so many... [And still they cry in pain, their suffering only mitigated slightly after the first attack. So she pushes herself upright, ignoring how the ghost fusses, clearly thinking she isn't in any state to keep going.]

I don't want anyone else to get hurt.

It is not something worth dying for.

[ Ghosts did not exist in his world, so this is all new to him. ]

Or are you too deceased?

[Behold the spoopy ghosts, Julius.]

Maybe, I don't know. [She technically died once and is kinda in-between now, so...]

But this is my duty, so what happens to me doesn't matter. [There's a loud, guttural groan from deep within the bleeding, the wailing of the spirits around them becoming louder in response.]

Are you going to leave?

No.

[ There's a lot he doesn't understand, and that should be corrected as well. ]

I can help you.

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Count the bodies like sheep | Open

OTA

im s...orry...

never be sorry

no subject

no subject

Sion

no subject

Julius

dat face tho

i rarely get to use that icon i will take any chance i can get

not sure if lewd face or murder face

why not both

both is good