Event - Lullaby

[apocalypsehowmods]

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Lullaby

➥ For You Never Shut Your Eye

(cw: supernaturally-induced sleep/fatigue, supernaturally-induced sleep disorders/somniloquy, needles/injections)

The line between waking and sleep is beginning to blur. People will find themselves sleeping far too much, but it never feels like enough. The music is growing more prevalent and persistent throughout town. The effect is still weaker within the building, but as October wears on, more and more people are affected and ADI staff are more intent than ever to find the source and also figure out how to block the effects. Characters will find themselves conscripted (between Halloween Party preparations) into assisting with building or testing anti-music and sleep devices along or with helping to try to track down the source of the music.

For those helping to build and test devices, there is an R&D lab in the basement levels of ADI that will be available. Devices native staff have been able to devise include:

• Headphones that play different frequencies to try to cancel out the sound of the singing.
  
• An armband that periodically stabs a small needle into the arm with a small dosage of adrenaline.
  
• Headbands set to a constant low vibration.

The efficacy of all of these devices is… questionable, but perhaps others may have their own expertise to lend to the efforts, attempting something on a broader scale than just personal protection devices.

For those helping to track the source of the music, finding it seems to be impossible, but there is a definite pattern that characters will note as the days pass. The epicenters of the music are moving, migrating out of the graveyards and converging on ADI Headquarters. As this goes on, the building will become less and less of a safe haven, the music penetrating its walls and affecting the staff there more heavily. You might find yourself having to help a neighbor who's fallen asleep while working. Or you might not even be able to fully tell they've fallen asleep as they sleepwalk and talk almost like they're actually still conscious. Even those who have never been prone to sleepwalking and talking may find themselves affected and… far more open with what they say when in the unguarded state of semi-unconsciousness.

➥ Till the Sun Is In the Sky

(cw: supernaturally-induced sleep/fatigue, thanatophobia, character death, death by poisoning, blood, choking, emetophobia, death by crushing)

By the 25th, some people may find waking up to be a challenge in and of itself. But they do manage to wake up. Seemingly. Perhaps the day is much like any other, heading to ADI or out around the city, grabbing coffee and- something is wrong. Something is very wrong. That cup of coffee you just drank had tasted a little different than usual. A touch of almond to it? It hits you that your throat is burning, bile and blood rising up and choking you as you hack and gasp and vomit. Your legs grow weak, you're losing control of everything, falling, dying.

And then you wake up.

Just a nightmare. Just a bizarre and horrible nightmare. You head out and… is this home? You're home! Or maybe… wait, this doesn't seem right. Have you gone somewhere else? Some things might be familiar, memories intertwined and mixing with fantastical elements, some your own, some not. You notice people you recognize, ones who might be as confused as you are. This isn't where they should be and they remember dying, too. Or seeing you die or someone else. It doesn't make sense, but somehow, they remember they had a dream they shared last night. And then something falls from above and nearly crushes you or your partner. Or maybe it does crush them, and you're suddenly looking at a dead body as the world and this nightmare that feels so very real becomes more and more hostile. Maybe something falls on you.

And then you 'wake up.'

➥ When the Blazing Sun Is Gone

(cw: supernaturally-induced sleep/fatigue, thanatophobia, character death, body horror, detailed description of painful physical transformation, description of the loss and regrowth of teeth, violence, mental status alterations, temporary power-loss, spiders)

Even with people dropping left and right thanks to the odd sleep effect taking hold, ADI staff are hellbent that their Halloween party will not be completely ruined. And on the 28th (a little before the actual holiday), everyone wakes up. Or… seems to. For those trapped in dreams, it will seem very much that they've woken up, the music has stopped, and they can actually carry on. For a few days, it even seems like things are normal. The party on the 31st is a blow-out bash. The entire first floor of ADI HQ has been transformed with decorations. The canteen is serving festive food and has set up a dance floor with holiday-appropriate music playing. Some of the offices feature additional activities, including party games like bobbing for apples in a trough that's been brought in, a guess this gross food booth, and more general party games. For a quieter time, there are also areas set up with board games and card games to play. And for some extra fun spooks a mini-haunted maze has been set up with faux spiders and webs, along with other goofy-looking monster creatures.

It's around 9 PM when the music and lights suddenly cut out. There's nothing for several seconds. Then, a voice begins to sing, filling the halls of ADI. It's a young girl's voice.

"Bye-bye, bye-bye,
Quickly you will die,
On the morning will be frost,
And you’ll go to the graveyard, the graveyard.

Grandfather will come there, too,
And he will bring the coffin.
Grandmother will come along,
Her tears, they will not soften.
Mama sings the prayer song, then,
And falls down on her knees.
Daddy takes you to the grave,
No one can hear his pleas.

Bye-bye, bye-bye,
Quickly you will die,
On the morning will be frost,
And you’ll go to the graveyard, the graveyard.

As the last notes of the song fade away, all hell breaks loose. Those who had been wearing particular sorts of costumes, ones that are more monstrous in nature, may find themselves transforming, growing, twisting, shifting. It's not a clean change, but a violent, agonizing one that cracks bones, tears and reshapes muscles and tendons, pushes out teeth to make room for new ones. Those transformed will find themselves compelled to chase, to hunt, to kill anyone they can get their claws, teeth, or other appendages on.

For those who stay themselves, it's not just their transformed friends who pose a danger, but the decorations they've set up, as well. Those fake giant spiders and webs? They're no longer fake. Neither are any of the other demonic little creatures. The goal of everything in ADI and even outside for those who manage to make it out the doors, is to remind you how very, very mortal you are. Those typically possessed of fantastic abilities will find that they have been sapped away. There's no calling on magic or innate abilities. You are mortal and you are going to die like everything mortal does.

In the chaos, characters will catch glimpses of a young girl flitting amongst the chaos, seeming unperturbed by it all. Trying to catch up to her or speak to her is fruitless, but she's there, and she's humming that song from before.

➥ When He Nothing Shines Upon

(cw: supernaturally-induced fatigue/malaise, thanatophobia)

Those who are killed at the party will find themselves waking up wherever they actually fell asleep a few hours or even days ago. If your character was one of the lucky few who somehow managed to escape the effect, you'll notice people waking up all over ADI HQ and elsewhere. There are no signs of damage on the bodies, but those who died in the dreams will find themselves feeling incredibly weak and generally ill for several hours to several days after the experience.

The music has actually stopped, and this time, it would seem you've actually woken up. Depending on how long you were passed out for, that may be a more unpleasant experience for some than others. There's a message posted from a random ADI employee's phone a few days later to the network:

Mr. S was right. This was fun! I'll have to come back next year to play with you. - Ava, the Lullaby Girl

P.S. Sorry for stealing your phone, horsegirl67. But I wanted to say, hi. C:

Unfortunately, there are no further messages and attempts to respond to the message will receive no reply for now.

But... fortunately…? All of the Halloween preparations are still up, and there's a festive party to attend if anyone actually feels keen on trying it in real life. Pam Ruan, the main organizer is bloody-minded about it now and will have her God damn Halloween party, but those who work themselves up to attend out of festive spirit or morbid curiosity will find it a distinctly muted affair that breaks early in the evening.

Happy Halloween, Gloucester!

➥ Mod Notes

• GENERAL - Players are welcome to play NPCs for themselves when they are needed in a thread. If you need more information on general behavior for these types of NPCs, please feel free to ask! In general, the information provided in the prompt should be sufficient and you're welcome to make up any details beyond that for your specific scene. The Lullaby Girl (Ava) can be seen throughout character dreams, but they will not be able to interact with her during this event. They will either wake up or simply find that the physics of the dream are warped and she cannot be reached or there's a sheet of glass between her and the character or whatnot.
  
  
• FOR YOU NEVER SHUT YOUR EYE (15-24 October) - Characters are welcome to develop their own devices for attempting to stop the music. Characters will have modern day technology available to them along with a few slightly more advanced electronics and tools. Please do not go too out there. This isn't Tony Stark's array of tools and the like. But characters can create additional devices to test within reason. Some of them may be more or less effective, but with how sporadic the effect is, it might be difficult to tell what's actually working or not. There can also be negative side-effects from devices, if you'd like to play those out. Characters with the appropriate magical charge may also attempt to supernaturally block the music, but this will not be condoned or facilitated by ADI. Characters searching for the source of the music will not be able to find it, just discover that it is moving. For characters who are sleep-talking, they may find themselves unusually honest. They may or may not recall conversations with other characters and all that they told them.
  
  
• TILL THE SUN IS IN THE SKY (25-27 October) - Characters will experience repeated nightmares of dying in a shared dreamscape. They will remember every time that they die in the dreams. Feel free to get as creative and gruesome with this as you would like. These are dreams and fantastical situations that might not actually happen (e.g., a robot showing up and shooting a laser through your character) may occur. Players are welcome to introduce elements of their memories into the nightmares and mix those memories around between characters who might wind up in a dream together. Please ensure all top-levels are appropriately tagged for any and all content warnings. Add content warnings as you go along, if needed. Dying in the dreams will trigger the sense of waking up. This can be a fake wake-up or characters might actually wake for a short while and find others passed out around them.
  
  
• WHEN THE BLAZING SUN IS GONE (28-31 October) - Again, this will be a shared dreamscape where characters will be under the illusion (at first) that all has returned to normal. For those who investigate, everything seems to be real, nothing too off, excepting the night of the Halloween party. Once the Lullaby Girl finishes her song, characters who are dressed in costumes that depict animals or other monstrous creatures may find themselves transformed into their costumes. Transformed characters may gain powers for the duration of this prompt/event related to their monstrous forms without mod approval. Go wild, kill your friends and neighbors, and generally trash everything around you. The decorations that come to life will be attempting to murder all characters, transformed or not. If characters escape into the city, they will find all of the festive decorations out there have come to life and want to kill them, as well. Death is unavoidable for this particular prompt, but it can be something swift and painless or something drawn out and horrible at player discretion. It is the only way to actually wake a character fully. Players also have the option of keeping their characters awake. They will not experience the shared dreamscape and will just be stuck with a lot of unconscious people around them for the duration of this portion of the event.
  
  
• WHEN HE NOTHING SHINES UPON (31 October) - Ava, the Lullaby Girl, cannot be contacted or immediately located, but she will be available in future plots for interactions with characters. There is no immediate information regarding who Mr. S. is. Players may have the general sleep/death malaise last for a minimum of two hours and a maximum of three days. Regular medications for the flu can ameliorate some of the symptoms, but they will ultimately clear up on their own. Characters may wake up in whatever state players would like. Feel free to play out the effects of them having been slumped in a corridor for three days without food or water. It's going to be a bad time all around. Those who attend the real Halloween party will be thanked profusely by Pam and showered with candy. At least they'll get a few HR brownie points?

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Comments

[cacophonish]

Jeff opens his mouth to introduce himself, stopping when Martin-- Malcolm's dad?-- slips that little bit of commentary in, dressed up like a compliment to Malcolm. It shouldn't sting, and he doesn't know why it does, here and now. He's pretty sure most people-- most townies, anyway-- assume he's just some street kid making a pit stop in Gloucester before drifting off to bigger, louder, dirtier places. Boston, New York, wherever.

There's a stab of self consciousness, and he feels smaller, which isn't really helped by the fact that he's sitting on the sidewalk, and they're standing, so he has to look up at them. God, is he some social charity case for Malcolm? Jeff hugs his guitar a little closer, unconsciously, looking from Martin to Malcolm, just to try to get a sense of where his friend's at. Malcolm doesn't seem, like, nearly as excited as his dad does.

"I, um, I'm Jeff."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm’s expressions vary from unimpressed with Martin to apologetic towards Jeff.

“Jeff’s a musician. And he’s not homeless; he works with me.” Sort of. But his tone is firm, not uncertain. He’s used to setting records straight with this man.

“Ah,” Martin says with a nod. “My mistake, what with all the… sitting on the ground and the… questionable personal hygiene. But I get another guess, right?” he says to Jeff, brightly, turning his full attention to the man on the ground, scanning his appearance studiously.

“Dr Whitly…” Malcolm says, warning in his voice that is waved off without a bit of concern from his father.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with begging, per se, but you have a job and you’re not spending it on your wardrobe. Addict?” He grins. “Or do you have a sportscar stashed somewhere? In which case I owe an unexpectedly ambitious young man an apology.”

“You owe him one anyway,” Malcolm warns him angrily.

cw drugs/addiction

[cacophonish]

For as much as Jeff craves attention as a rule, the full force of Martin's attention is about the last thing he wants right now. He realizes that as soon as the man looks at him, like, really looks at him. Jeff's used to judgment, and normally, he weathers it with a careless shrug and a defiant ownership of who he is. He knows what he looks like, knows his hair could use a cut, and his pants are too short for his too-long legs, and his jacket's too big for his skinny frame-- he's obviously wearing clothes that used to belong to other people. Normally, others don't really call attention to it, or to his various flaws and weaknesses. Especially not so... directly and cheerfully.

The bard really has no poker face to speak of, so he doesn't even have to say anything to confirm that the addict guess is on the money. He just winces a little and looks away. The fact that he seems to have a constant case of the sniffles only points to what the substance in question might be.

"I'm-- I'm saving for a new guitar. For gigs, you know, like real gigs?" he explains lamely, busying himself with scooping up his hard earned cash, so he can put his current guitar back in its case. Might as well get ready to make his exit and get away from this uncomfortable social situation quickly and seamlessly. He does shoot Malcolm a little smile, however, forced and strained at the edges.

"It's okay, man." No apologies necessary. He's sure he doesn't want to hear Dr. Whitly's version of an apology. But Malcolm's a friend, and fuck, he doesn't want the guy feeling any worse about his old man. "Dads ask questions." He shrugs. "I get it."

CW violence

[abrightboy]

“See, son? He gets it.” Martin turns his attention back to Jeff, getting in his space to pull Jeff to his feet as soon as he moves to get up, scanning his face.

“Pupils blown, flushed skin… I bet your heart is just racing,” Martin purrs.

“Dr Whitly…” Malcolm warns again, but at that point, with Jeff fairly tucked between Martin and the wall, Martin pulls a large knife from the back of his waistband. Malcolm’s eyes go wide and he gropes desperately at the back of his own waistband, already knowing what he’ll find. The knife is gone. It’s gone because Martin has it. Malcolm grabs his arm, but he shoves Malcolm away with an almost supernatural strength that sends him flying.

Then Martin turns the full force of his attention on Jeff.

“Don’t pay any attention to my killjoy of a son,” he says. The tip of the knife through Jeff’s shirt just below his ribcage penetrates his skin, but barely. “You need to know something about me. I like to take my time, but your racing heart makes that an… intriguing challenge.”

[cacophonish]

Jeff doesn't know about the Surgeon, and in general, he's not the best judge of people. There's been too many times where he's just gone off with strangers for this reason or that, oblivious or indifferent to the potential dangers they might pose. It's worked out so far; he's still alive.

But he knows, at least, that he doesn't want Dr. Whitly in his space. Even before anything happens, some animal instinct in him is telling him to get away, say goodbye, run, do whatever it takes to get out from between this man and the wall and then it's too late.

"What are you--"

His heart's racing, but it's not because of the coke (--has he even snorted anything today? he can't remember, everything outside of this moment is so hazy and fuzzy, but right here, right now, is crystal clear and he wishes it wasn't--) it's because there's a fucking knife pressing below his ribs. He hisses, tries to get any space he can between himself and the blade, but he's up against a wall, and there's nowhere to go.

He doesn't even fully register what the man's saying-- take his time with what?-- but he doesn't need rational thought to know he doesn't want to stick around for anything the doctor has in mind. So Jeff just acts out on instinct, shoving at him in hopes he can slip out from the side (away from the knife) and make a break for it.

[abrightboy]

The shove doesn’t send Martin far and in response he grabs Jeff’s throat and shoves him back against the wall so his head hits hard enough to daze him without knocking him out.

The knife digs a little deeper into flesh this time.

“A display out on the street isn’t really my style, but we all have to adapt to survive,” he growls.

[cacophonish]

"No--"

The world goes white as his head hits the brick wall, but he's still here. God, he wishes he could just go to sleep right now, black out and miss the ending (even if it's likely to be his ending). He wishes Ziggy were here to sing him into oblivion. He wishes he could sing and set Malcolm's dad on fire, or fill his heart with terror and send him running, but between the hand gripping his throat, and his own racing fear, he couldn't string together the right melody even if he tried.

He whimpers uselessly as the knife digs in, grabbing at Martin's wrist like he can still, somehow, push him away. But even if he wasn't so fucking weak and fragile to begin with, it wouldn't matter. He's too dazed and uncoordinated to put up much of a fight in the moment. And though he doesn't say anything, the question's pretty clear in his wide, wet eyes: why?

[abrightboy]

The answer is pretty clear in Martin's wild, giddy gaze. Because it's fun. Because he wants to. Because he loves it.

The knife digs a little deeper and his smile is still very pleased with the situation.

"No deeper than that. We're not carving a Christmas turkey. Hit the wrong organ and you'll bleed out in under a minute. We don't want that."

He pulls the blade upwards, instead, the puncture becoming an incision.

[cacophonish]

Martin's cutting him open. He isn't stabbing him, like some slasher villain. He's keeping it shallow, and dragging the blade, and the whole, ugly reality of the situation is too much, too fucked up and surreal to really fully understand.

Is this really happening to him? The pain in his body says yes. So does the panic pounding through his heart, past his heart, choking him--

He lashes out without any thought or strategy, and there might be something of a feral animal in him, since he's yanking the hand at his throat up so he can clamp his teeth down on the meat of Dr. Whitly's hand. And also trying to kick the guy in the nuts if he can. It's a wild, uncoordinated attack, driven by desperation, sure, and also a huge streak of spite.

If he's going to die, he wants to at least hurt the guy first.

(But of course he'd rather not die, and he's going to try to make a break for it again if he can.)

[abrightboy]

The bite lands, surprising Martin, but causing him to shift, making the knee hit him in the thigh instead. White hot rage flashes in his eyes, but he smiles slightly. The knife hand, still gripping the knife, yanks it from the wound and punches Jeff in the face before his now free hand, with its little bite wound, grabs his shirt and throws him to the ground.

[cacophonish]

For an old guy, Martin can throw a punch. And he can certainly fight better than Jeff. He hits the ground, then lifts his head a little, trying to look beyond the Surgeon for any hope of rescue. There are people, that's the fucked up part. They're walking past, going about the day, indifferent to the scene playing out in the periphery. Maybe they don't notice, or maybe they just don't care.

He knows, somehow, that calling for help won't do anything. So he tries something else, another desperate gamble: he grabs this asshole by the leg and tries to yank him off balance.

[abrightboy]

Martin is, indeed, pulled off balance, but he keeps his grip on the knife and once on his back, uses the leg Jeff didn't grab to kick Jeff in the face.

Then he scrambles to his knees and makes his way back over to Jeff, driving the blade deep into his abdomen, just above his navel, holding it there a moment before giving it a twist.

"By the time the contents of your colon get around to poisoning you, I'll have had my fun," he says. "So don't worry. This wound won't kill you." He gives the knife another shove, deeper. "You'll only wish it did."

[cacophonish]

It always looks so quick and easy in the movies. Effortless. What's the saying? Like a knife through butter.

His abdomen isn't as yielding as butter. The blade sinks in, bringing a pain that's so acute and surreal, but his body, weak and scrawny as it might be, tries to reject it. The token, instinctive resistance only makes him more aware of every fucking inch of steel that pushes its way into his guts.

The knife twists, and Jeff cries out, just as a woman's walking past. He watches her go, watches her throw a look over her shoulder at him. He could swear their eyes lock, just for a moment, and there's something like pity on her face, but she doesn't stop, just keeps walking, like everybody else.

He's going to die, right here, like this. Just another piece of trash on the sidewalk. Jeff closes his eyes (he can feel tears burning in them), swallowing thickly, trying to drown out the pain, the fear, and the sound of Martin's voice. He can't give up, he can't. He can do something...

Jeff starts to hum. Tries to hum, anyway, even if it makes him all too aware of the knife in his gut. It isn't a spell (yet), it's just... another reflex. Instinct, of a Gifted sort. He thinks of his mother (strength, warmth, comfort) and he hums her favorite song, trying to find focus in it.

Because if he can find focus, then maybe he can fucking set this asshole on fire.

[abrightboy]

Martin isn't interrupted by the humming at first. Jeff's little noises don't bother him, whatever they are. But then he feels heat on his back and suddenly his coat catches fire and he knows he has a moment before it sears skin and he knows, somehow, that this little shit has something to do with it.

And he cuts Jeff's throat.

The only sounds he'll be able to make for the next couple of moments are strangled burbles, until there's only silence.