weep not for the memories

[brushoff]

WHO: Everybody!
WHERE: all cities
WHEN: March 4 - March 6
WHAT: it's a catch-all log, sucka! Tag here and thread around for the Dorian Ruins Everything Guilt Extravaganza part of the overall March plot. Please check out this ooc post for details!
WARNINGS: Traumatic memories. Possible talk of murder, death, blood, other nasty things. I'll try to update if the warnings needed but please use content warnings if it gets super nasty!

It starts off on March 4th, the early morning before the sun's even risen. You know those weird mirages that were hanging around the day before? Well now it's getting a little personal.

These mirages come and go seemingly for no reason. They might stay for a minute, they might stay for an hour. The images vary between person but the unifying factor is that the mirages consist of people the player characters have hurt, whether people in-game or from their homes. Whether they murdered them, slandered them, or even had a petty little argument, the unifying factor is the guilt each character feels towards or about this mirage. After all, you know you hurt them somehow. You know their existence somehow makes you feel guilty.

Another unifying factor? The creepy way these mirages just seem to stick to you. They'll follow you if you try to leave, staring you down with their creepy unblinking mirage eyes. And whoops: everybody can see said mirages. Hopefully you're not being stalked by someone you and somebody else both know, wouldn't that be awkward?

Have fun confronting your traumatizing past and/or wondering why your buddy's got some creepy ghost guy following him, imPorts!

( ooc: this is a catch-all log! Make starters of your characters getting haunted by their creepy mirages, have other people react to said creepy mirages, ???, profit. Hit me up on the ooc post if you have any questions! )

Comments

John Constantine and his Guilt Spiral Conga Line / ota

[heckblazer]

March 4 - Heropa

[ One moment, he's sitting in a pub, scribbling lyrics to try out for the next jam session he's got planned. A few pints in and he's oddly at ease, ink staining his hands and the napkins he's defacing.

When he looks up to flag down the barkeep for another pint, the whole place feels chilly to him, in spite of the Florida heat.

It's not like he's never seen a ghost before, so it's not so much that part that's really shocking. No, it's more that he never would have thought that of all the spectres he'd been followed by, his sister would be one of them. But there she is, looking as real as anything, perched on the stool beside him with that sweet, forlorn look she always had whenever he'd come around to visit. He sighs, squinting at her. ]

Hullo, Cheryl. You draw the shortest straw or somethin'? Plenty of other folks down there'd be much more enthusiastic 'bout the chance to haunt me.

March 5 - Heropa

Y'know, I think the fact that yer' showin' up alone is somehow worse'n everyone bombarbing me all at once.

[ Depending on whether you can see the young woman to whom he's speaking, John will currently either look like an overly concerned uncle, or a lunatic. Although both are equally true of his character.

And so as John goes about his usual errands - restocking more supplies for spells, defacing any posters or ads of himself we can find around town, collecting debts, snaking his way out of debts he owes - he is tailed by the mirage of his niece. She is surprisingly content-looking and unharmed, which is highly unusual for anyone close to John. But he knows that he failed her in the worst of ways all the same - he tried to go where she couldn't follow, to keep her safe, to keep her nose out of the black magic nonsense that consumes him.

She'd followed anyway. He watches her nervously as she strolls next to him around town. ]

Tried my best with you, Gem. You deserve better.

March 6 - day - Maurtia Falls - cw implied child abuse

[ Apparently having a panic attack, charging through the porters and getting blackout drunk did not, in fact, get rid of the visages. Or so John learns the hard way as he wakes up in the car park of a burger place.

When his vision stops blurring, Astra has already appeared, waiting for him. Her tiny frame shivers from terror and the shock of the abuses dealt to her, her eyes wild with fear and pain.

Her cries are silent, but her face contorts all the same, invisible demonic hands clutching and dragging her to her ultimate fate. His millionth or so reminder of just what happened when he tried to save people.

Which is why John is likely spending the rest of the day getting drunk all over again. ]

March 6 - night - Maurtia Falls - Dorian's apartment - cw death

[ Set after this. ]

[ It's hard to tell what happened exactly. John had blacked out and his throat was raw and sore from some sort of screaming.

Two men are laying on the floor of the flat. One of them is shockingly old, an effect exacerbated by the stress one puts on their body from years of hedonistic use and abuse. Oh, and he's also dead as a doornail.

The other man is alive, skinny arms and legs wound tightly into a fetal position, whatever turmoil he faced causing him to physically shake. His eyes are unfocused, bleary with tears. His breath is jagged and rapid. Any attempts at speech are mostly profanity, alternating between whispered and roared.

Before the two men is a lavish oil painting in a gilded frame, bearing the image of a beautiful young man with a devious smugness about him. It is, unmistakably, Dorian depicted.

It's all such an exceedingly odd sight that you might not notice at first that the mirages are gone. John sure as hell isn't in any position to notice such a thing. ]

what an impressive conga line - March 5

[storyseeker]

[Elena isn't doing so hot. She only has one mirage following her around, a sad-eyed man with bullet holes in his abdomen and forehead. But it's bad enough.

These things don't seem to be a happy reunion for anyone, so for the most part Elena's opted to ignore them and hope people do the same for her, but when the passerby (that guy from the party, she remembers him now) addresses one aloud, she looks over at him and the young woman who follows.]

Does she ever talk back to you? [Her voice is quiet, subdued.] Mine...he doesn't. So far.

[heckblazer]

[ Right. The nice bird from the Thanksgiving bash that John had crashed. He'd become terribly distracted by Lucifer's arrival the same day and it had rather consumed his attention. But there she was, accompanied by a bloke looking worse for the wear, to say the least.

John nearly defaults to quips again, but hesitates. She's not used to occult nonsense the way his usual company is. So he shrugs. ]


Mine neither. Yet. Friend a' yours?

[storyseeker]

He was, yeah. A colleague and a friend.

[She glances at Jeff and then looks away quickly, wincing. It's still too awful for her to linger; she's not that hardened yet.]

This is pretty shitty, isn't it.

[heckblazer]

Had worse, actually. [ Which, spoiler alert: isn't a lie.

Still, he recognizes that visibly-shaken look on her face. It's like seeing a familiar face from far away. But he places it as how more regular, harmless people look when processing a normal amount of trauma.

John gestures awkwardly at the young woman with the hard stare that's been following him in a poor attempt to lighten the mood. ]

Should introduce ya to my niece, I guess. Nice girl. Bit of a minority in that most people close me have bad shit happen to 'em.

[storyseeker]

[She believes him somehow. But that just makes her feel lousier.]

It's, ah...nice to meet her. Sort of. I'm glad to hear that, though—that bad shit didn't happen.

[But she's sorry to hear about her being a minority.]

Why do you think this is happening? People just showing up like ghosts?

[heckblazer]

[ Ready to make a remark, John opens his mouth and then closes it again. He could explain that it's very likely his fault because he tried to help Dorian Gray remove some of his sense of guilt by enchanting his portrait, only for it to backfire. But either she wouldn't believe him, or she would all too well and punch him in the face, neither of which John was in the mood to deal with. ]

Speaking as someone who's had actual ghosts follow them around before, sometimes they just like the attention. That, and most o' us imPort types are damaged goods. Lots of negative emotion and tragic backstories for 'em to feed on. Still, not pleasant to be hounded by ghosts, if yer' not used to 'em.

[ Which isn't actually a lie, it just omits any specific details that would cause further trouble. Just for good measure, he deflects a bit: ]

I take it yer' nor the sort who's used to 'em hanging around?

[storyseeker]

Uh, no. Not really.

[Not at all, but after some of her experiences, she's at least willing to entertain the possibility, albeit with a skeptical mind.]

I take it you are? Were they like this?

[heckblazer]

Yeah, I am.

[ His answer is stale-sounding as it comes out of his mouth, devoid of his typical charm. Its all too tempting for a moment to weave more big-fish bullshit. Just for a chuckle, just because he can. The trouble is, he can't as long as Gemma lingers, her expression full of concerned judgment and none of her mother's sorrowful patience. ]

The types I'm used to are more chatty, actually. Does make you look like a nutter to anyone who can't see 'em, though.

[ Yet, somehow the more visible but silent apparitions haunting everyone now seemed worse. But mentioning as such isn't data a stable type like her could use. ]

[storyseeker]

I guess it would.

[Maybe she would have thought it herself if she'd seen him or someone like him, even if she wouldn't have said it out loud.]

I never used to believe in ghosts. I've seen slimy zombie-like creatures and people mutated by magic tree sap...but never spirits. Funny, that it should take coming here to make me wonder.