EVENT LOG
number 002
The hotel humbly hopes that you're settling in well and are taking advantage of the various pleasures on offer for your stay. In Mr Bennet's opinion, things have been going quite well and he doesn't think that the guests are unhappy at all. New guests have arrived, some have left, it's all going along perfectly. So, of course, this is when the next troublesome thing pops up.
SHADOWS
One morning, characters will find the hotel to be a little dimmer than usual, a little more shadowy. Yet if anyone asks Mr Bennet about it, he will claim to not have noticed anything different than usual. Either way, as the characters move on with their day, they'll start to notice a few odd things start to happen. PHASE ONE: Initially, characters will notice their shadow beginning to move a little out of sync with them. Discreetly at first until eventually, their shadow takes on a life of its own, mischievously playing with characters and enjoying their newfound freedom. Very Peter Pan, and completely harmless.
PHASE TWO: Now, shadows might disappear entirely, roaming the hotel to their own discretion and ignoring the characters they belong to. As the shadow takes on this free will, characters will begin to feel slightly off balance and have a hard time feeling whole without their shadow around. The shadow may become slightly aggressive as well if told they should return to their characters, fighting back in their own way from knocking things over to outright attacking other characters. It's a little hard to fight back though when your opponent is a shadow, isn't it?
PHASE THREE: The shadows have become fully aggressive now, fighting anyone who tries to get them to return to their original person. Characters will find themselves feeling weak and low energy as a result of losing their shadow. Eventually, the shadows will come back to their owners but the characters will find themselves sinking into their shadow, eventually changing places entirely with their shadow. The only way to rescue a character from this fate is for another character to pull them out of their shadow forcibly. The bright side is once a character is pulled out of their shadow, it all returns to normal and their shadow is no longer sentient. These phases will last over the course of the week and it is quite alright to stay in phase one/two/three. Not all shadows will become aggressive, not all shadows will be playful. Feel free to manipulate your character's shadow in the way that's most fun for you.
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caelumstaff) wrote in 
multi-track threading YEAHHHH
Abbacchio?
[ How ironic that Bucciarati finds him as soon as he's unable to actually continue looking. After so long, he'd begun to believe the other man had simply passed on, or whatever might happen to them if they decided to leave the place; that brought its own set of regrets, but it was Abbacchio's choice to speak with him again or not, and it was better to imagine he was gone than to keep searching for him fruitlessly. But no: he was here, somewhere, and (unsurprisingly, for a guy with a Stand like his) his timing is impeccable.
Unfortunately, the brief lapse in concentration makes his own Stand weaken for a moment, and the shadow jerks him in slightly deeper with a splash. The water rises up his torso a little higher, and the cold steals away even more of his energy - but, dammit, he's not about to give up right in front of one of his men. Gritting his teeth, he struggles against the dark tendrils, desperately trying to yank one of his arms back out of the void. ]
its been......... ONE WEEK (sowry)
His Stand reaches Bucciarati in no time at all, but without much to work with, the best they're able to do is grasp onto Bucciarati's bicep in an attempt to keep him from sinking even deeper into the shadow, maybe apply some leverage so that the arm itself can be freed from the shadows coalescing beneath the water. When Abbacchio reaches them, he practically slides to a stop in the water, dropping to his knees so they're at eye level. ]
We're getting you out of here.
[ He says it with such conviction, there's no chance in hell he's leaving here without Bucciarati — either they walk out together or they both get consumed by the shadow, and he's not allowing himself to think about that possibility for a second. With some finagling, and with Moody Blues moving around to stand behind Bucciarati, he's able to hook an arm under Bucciarati's, ignoring the icy cold that immediately chills his skin as he does. Over his shoulder, he looks towards Sticky Fingers, then back. ]
You've got enough left in you for this, surely?
[ It comes out almost like a taunt, trying to goad Bucciarati into expending what little strength he has left, because as much as he wishes he could, he doesn't think he can manage from this angle alone. ]
i forgive u
While he doesn't do much more than grunt in response, Sticky Fingers seems slightly more alert, looking over at both Moody Blues when it arrives, and then at Abbacchio when he turns to it; it utters an ari! in place of a reply from its master, redoubling its efforts to tug him out, feeble though they may be.
The shadow feels less like a separate entity tugging on Bruno and more like a drain at the bottom of the pool, forcefully trying to suck him down through gravity. The additional effort from Abbacchio and his Stand adds just enough balance to their side for Bruno to yank his other arm free from the darkness. Immediately, he grabs onto Abbacchio's shoulder, instead, gripping as tightly as he can. There's still some fight left in him, after all. ]
A little more...
theres so much weird phrasing in here and u just have to deal with it
Getting a good, solid grip around Bucciarati proves to be the most difficult part of the endeavour, when so much of him is under shadow. If this is a drain, then Bucciarati is the plug, once there's less resistance, he should be able to lift right out. (Which in itself is a thoroughly Bucciarati way of looking of things, but he's too distracted to pay that any mind.) With his arm is freed and grabbing onto Abbacchio, it causes a shift in the momentum and allows him to plant his feet as firmly as he can within the water and make a real attempt to free Bucciarati in earnest — after all, there's three of them putting in their strength now.
He grits his teeth and puts his all into it, and it feels like progress is being made, his knees straightening out as he lifts. He only hopes that there isn't a drastic shift, that Bucciarati suddenly comes free of the shadow and sends them both careening backwards into the water — not that it would make much of a difference now, they're both soaked through, and no amount of towel drying will help. ]
Come on, we're almost there.
this is so fucking late i'm sorry nico AUGHHH
If anything, his faith that Abbacchio will be able to fix this is what lets him tap into whatever strength he has remaining for a final push - or pull, as it may be. After a few moments of straining, Bucciarati finally comes free from his shadow all at once, and with a fairly heinous underwater blorp noise, too. Apparently, the conception of the situation as something like a drain was accurate. Unfortunately, so was Abbacchio's concern about the remaining momentum toppling them both over.
Shit.
He doesn't have the strength left to block their fall, but Sticky Fingers, in tune with his thoughts as always, understands without him saying a word, doing its best to hurry over and catch Abbacchio before he cracks his head open on the tile. Half-corporeal as it is in Bucciarati's current state, it doesn't quite succeed in stopping their fall - but it does succeed in slowing them down just enough to avoid fatal injury when they pass through its arms. Probably. ]
this is not how he wanted to end up in this position
Behind him, he feels that odd sensation of Sticky Fingers' presence being partly there before it vanishes. Sure, he's grateful for the intervention, but he still grimaces and hisses out air through his teeth when his tail bone knocks into a corner of tile. Is it better or worse that he's flat on his back and all but holding Bucciarati to his chest? In any other situation, he'd be mortified, and maybe he still is, but it's mostly outweighed by a concern for the man at present.
There's water in his ears, and he can feel his hair sticking uncomfortably to the side of his face, cold against his warm cheeks. He doesn't dare move, though he lets his arms go slack. Quietly, he breathes out. ]
… you okay?
[ Moody Blues is moving back towards them, Abbacchio already preparing to move Bucciarati with his Stand once he's certain he's not injured in any way. ]
just enjoy it bro
Yeah... I think so.
[ the words come out with some effort as he attempts to get up, weakly pushing himself off of Abbacchio's chest with one hand as the other releases his shoulder to grab for the lip of the pool instead. He's not strong enough to pull himself up much, but it's somewhat impressive he manages to do it at all, given the circumstances. Unsurprisingly, unlike Abbacchio, he pays no heed to their position whatsoever. ]
Thank you. You... have good timing.
[ as he speaks, out of breath, he glances down and back, double-checking that the shadow isn't still stuck to him; fortunately, it's not, and the sentence ends with him coughing up a little water rather than sounding the alarm. ]
bro doesnt know how smh... least bucci has the right idea
Mm, so I've been told.
[ Said completely deadpan, despite being an attempt at humour. If Moody Blues could nod, they probably would in spite of the joke being made at their expense, but they're too busy hooking their arm under Bucciarati's again, manoeuvring so that they can help him stand. They pause when Bucciarati coughs, and Abbacchio tenses, too. Immediately, he's concerned all over again, coughing up water isn't a good thing, he's also not entirely sure what the best thing would be to do other than let it pass.
Abbacchio has the sense that he's missed something again, and he's sure there'll be more to discuss, but it'll have to wait a bit longer. The most pressing matter is getting out of this damn water; and once Bucciarati is on his feet — with or without Moody's help — or at least upright enough that Abbacchio can extricate himself from where he's stuck, he'll do exactly that. In a completely normal manner.
Clearing his throat, he moves to Bucciarati's side. He wants to do exactly what Moody Blues was doing, to support his weight, but he doesn't want to come across as overbearing or imply that he thinks Bucciarati incapable. Not when he believes the opposite. ]
We should get somewhere with less water, [ he glances around for the way out. ] What floor is your room on?
no subject
In the back of his mind, he knows this means a heavy conversation is about to be upon them, but he's too tired to strain under its weight just yet. Mostly, he just feels relieved that they managed to find one another again. The impossibility of it all is dulled slightly by his weariness, and by the fact that they had met just once before, but it still leaves him in wonder. Sometimes, God is merciful. ]
Five. The beach. [ he's on his feet, a little shaky but upright, and he gestures vaguely with his chin. ] That way... That's how I came in.
no subject
Bucciarati leans against him, and muscle memory takes over, wordlessly he manoeuvres Bucciarati's arm around his shoulders to properly support his weight. The water hasn't helped, but between himself and Moody Blues, it's an easy enough task, and one that Abbacchio dutifully takes upon himself. With little fanfare he begins heading in the direction Bucciarati indicated, water still sloshes around their feet and makes things more difficult, but there's consolation in the knowledge that it won't be long before they make it out towards the elevators.
He's silent, for the most part, lost in thought as he often is, and not wanting to press any of the bigger issues that lie just beneath the surface. There is one thing he thinks is manageable, that shouldn't be an emotional weight to drop onto either of their shoulders. ]
… do you know how long it's been since we last spoke?
[ Weeks, maybe months? He hopes it hasn't been longer, though it wasn't in his control, it would still feel like a personal failure. He knows that Bucciarati is perfectly capable without him, that his own reliance on him isn't mutual, but it would be hard not to see it as though he'd let him down. ]
no subject
As "alive" as he possibly can be.
When Abbacchio finally speaks, it takes him a moment to respond. ]
A month. More or less.
[ vaguely, he wonders if they spent this entire time circling around each other in this infinite maze of a building. It's not impossible. Nor is the idea that Abbacchio might have been trapped somewhere just like him. ]
What happened to you? After we got separated.
[ part of him wants to apologize for that, too, but he logically knows that it wasn't anyone's fault but the ninjas', and he has enough real things to apologize to Abbacchio for - there's no need to dilute it with a meaningless nicety. ]
no subject
When he answers, he glances at him sidelong, then sort of frowns. A month isn't that long, but it feels significant enough. A month is enough time to question whether someone was even there at all, or if they'd be back. He wouldn't like to presume anything about Bucciarati or what he did in that time, but he thinks he knows him well enough to know that he cares about his team, and must have been at least somewhat curious about Abbacchio's sudden disappearance.
As he chews over Bucciarati's own question, his brows sink into that typical furrow that often appears as he mulls something over. ]
All I really remember was that hideous carpet, and you were saying we should leave. After that… Nothing? Not even darkness… not even sure if I was conscious.
[ The guests can leave the hotel, or so he's been made aware of, but what exactly does that mean for someone who is dead. Is that the reason behind the lack of… well, anything. Abbacchio doesn't have the answer, he's sure Bucciarati probably won't, either. Maybe that's a conversation for later. ]
Then I was back here, and it was as though no time had passed at all.
no subject
[ in a way, it's a relief. Knowing that he and Abbacchio had somehow been missing one another the entire time would have been infinitely frustrating. The idea that the hotel could simply swallow you up into oblivion is disturbing on its own, of course, but perhaps less so, given that it was where both of them had been before coming here. The important thing is that he came back. Somehow. ]
Then it's no wonder I couldn't track you down.
[ he was out of space, somewhere. Maybe he "went back" to wherever their souls are supposed to be and then get sucked back here. Bucciarati can't help being slightly grateful he was. He'd already resolved to accept Abbacchio's loss, but he's only human; it was hard not to hope he'd come back again after that glimpse of him...
Hell. He's exhausted, he's wet, and he's cold. Once they're close enough to the elevator, he presses the button to call it himself, as if to spite his body. There's so much he needs to think about and talk about, but, just like before, his flesh is going to give out before he can do much of anything. At least this time, it won't be permanent - he hopes. ]
no subject
Still supporting Bucciarati if he needs it, he steps into the elevator once it arrives (admittedly wary of the thing, but he hasn't had problems so far.) Jabbing the button that reads 5 with his thumb, he turns his attentions back to Bucciarati, pensive, though silent as the elevator rumbles to life and begins its descent. When he does eventually speak up, it is with a sincere earnestness. ]
I don't know why we're here… or how it is that I'm here again, but what I do know is that I don't want to waste the opportunity.
[ So much of his life was opportunities, thrown away, whether by fear or uncertainty, inaction or the wrong actions. Even his life itself, cut so short, seems like a waste to him now. He doesn't expect Bucciarati to respond, but he wants him to know where he stands all the same. If the invitation to this place was to be believed, then he wants to see it through. ]
no subject
Souls have to go somewhere, [ he murmurs, and he'd like to say more - how it's not heaven or hell, and maybe they're in limbo, or maybe there never was a heaven or hell to begin with, but he doesn't have the energy to articulate it, and what's more, it's rubbing up against the crux of the matter: that they're both dead. He wants to talk about it. He needs to talk about it, even if it's going to be painful - about everything, with Abbacchio - but he doesn't want to do it like this. Bucciarati works himself to the bone on the regular; maybe that's why he knows he's at his limit now. ]
Abbacchio. We need to talk. [ though he's still slumped over, leaning heavy against Abbacchio, he lifts his eyes to meet his. He won't mumble this to the floor, tired as he is. ] But I need to rest first. Will you wait for me?
[ there's a lot to tell him. Perhaps part of him just wants the confirmation that Abbacchio's not going to vanish again, but, mostly, he just wants Abbacchio to know he doesn't intend to hide anything. Not now. ]