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

[acclimatized]

"I'm fine." John chimes automatically, not looking at Sherlock until he notices the little girls who trailed behind him are now gazing intently into their refrigerator. He presses his lips together, thinking. Either Sherlock came back with a family sized carton of ice-cream stashed under his coat or he's added a few more severed appendages to their collection.

"Well, aside from the governor of your big brother's super-secret island prison and his wife have been following me everywhere I go, anyway." He flashes Sherlock an uneasy smile, shrugging into his jacket. "It's been a bit distracting. Almost gave someone the wrong medication at work."

He clears his throat, bending his head down to look for his shows. David and his wife ghost his every step.

"What about you?"

[thevictoriandetective]

"I'm all right."

Sherlock notes that uneasy smile. He understood the troubles of distractions, and how disastrous giving the wrong medication would be and even that was probably weighing on John's mind, he mused worriedly.

Keen blue eyes squint at the visage of the Governor and his wife, the last he'd seen of him was of a collapsed, bloody figure on the floor after he sacrificed himself for his wife.

"You regret what happened," he murmured, not looking away. He dried his hands on a nearby hand towel, before looking back at Soo-Lin Yao, who was hovering in the doorframe of the kitchen, just staring at him.

"Our regrets..." he said in a clearer voice. "They've somehow manifested."

[acclimatized]

John only manages to catch the tail end of Sherlock's deduction and laughs with a short, self-deprecating snort. He wants to point out that usually, people regret not giving their spare change to a homeless person on the street, not being unable to shoot somebody because of their moral principles. God, his life was a mess. His gaze lingers on the back of Soo-Lin Yao's head before he responds.

"Yeah, that's what I figured." He remarks, turning to look at David again. Death hadn't seemed to have relieved the former governor of his burdens. He was still wearing the same troubled expression of a man in the thrall, and at the mercy, of Eurus Holmes. It concerned John, more than he thought it would when he woke up this morning. Was it just his memory of the man or were they all doomed to be trapped by their regrets of their past in death?

"I'd say somebody is playing games with us, but it seems like we're not the only ones affected."

[thevictoriandetective]

Sherlock watches John, studying him, looking to where his eyes rested. These visages didn't seem to be at peace. If they were superstitious men, they'd be in for a terrifying time.

"I've seen others, too," Sherlock remarked, pressing his fingertips together under his chin as he leaned against the wall a moment, before dashing back over to his chair and plopping down. His staring companions, of which there were many, seemed to be mostly occupying themselves or standing around.

"So we're not being specifically targeted, as you've said." He liked to let John have his little deductive moments. "Though, I've not had the chance to truly investigate, one has to wonder if this is relegated to imports only?"

[acclimatized]

Oh. He thought they were going out for lunch. John opens his mouth, but closes it again. There's little point arguing with Sherlock when he assumes that position: a furrowed brow, steepled fingers and an audience of clients assembled around his chair. He decides to keep his jacket on, but sits down opposite him. He might as well make himself comfortable -- they're probably going to be here for a while.

"No one at work seems to have them." He points out, leaning back in his seat. "They seem to know what's going on though. Apparently Debbie saw somebody executed by a guillotine. She, uh, had to take a few days off."

[thevictoriandetective]

Poor Sherlock, he was just as much a victim of his mind as John was a victim of Sherlock's moods. He was hungry, but he simply...forgot, when his mind was working on some problem, besides outright denying himself food because digestion was distracting.

"Imports-only then?" he said out loud, his eyes slightly glazed as if he was mostly musing to himself.

He focuses on John, however after that. That was interesting, and his eyes lit up, but that was bad form and he should feel bad for this 'Debbie' person. Besides, he doubted that he or John would have enjoyed that sight, even if they'd be a bit more robust about handling it. Sherlock had seen entirely too many people shot in front of his face. Including one that he'd done himself.

[acclimatized]

"Don't." John interrupts his through process in a stern tone. He recognizes that little wicked glint in his eyes. He doesn't know exactly what Sherlock's thinking, but he knows he doesn't want him and Debbie to meet. Knowing Sherlock, he probably wants a detailed account of what she saw and they are running thin with staff already.

"It might be. What about the people you work with?"

[thevictoriandetective]

"I only stopped in one of the offices briefly this morning to see if they had any cases, didn't see a thing," Sherlock admitted. "It's possible I didn't entirely notice until I was nearly run down by a man on a horse with several arrows in his back."

Sometimes Sherlock could see right through anyone, and sometimes it was a wonder how he managed to find his way home each night. But at least it was something of note that he hadn't quit (or been spectacularly fired from) his job even after all this time, after all they'd been through with Eurus and his own traumatizing childhood he'd been even more determined to solve particularly tricky or difficult cases. And it helped supplement his need to solve puzzles when his actual detective work ran dry, which, annoyingly enough, seemed to do, even with his constant scouring of the network.