kore_logs | day 58

Entry tags:

day 58

Who: Charlie-pire and OTA
What:
Where: House 11 for housemates/guests, elsewhere for anyone else
When: Duration of the event.
Warnings: None for now but if things change, I'll edit this.
Notes: If you want hideousness, please feel free to plot with me!

Well, this sure was some bullshit. Charlie couldn't go out when the sun was up unless she stuffed herself in the clothes Tony brought her. As awkward as it was, Charlie did it because she had people to check on and a dumb town to patrol. She wanted an explanation as to what was going on and why and her stubbornness made it difficult to accept the fact that she just wasn't going to find it.

She can be found almost anywhere.

When the sun goes down, she'll be home long enough to drop her extra clothing off and check on her roommates. Eventually, she'll wander back out and be found almost anywhere in town. She won't be poking around people's homes unless she knows them and even then, she'll be nice enough to knock carefully.

She did knock a small hole in her house's bathroom door by accident, earlier.

[ooc: yep charlie's wandering around town. she's getting kinda hungry but won't attack anyone with quite a load of difficulty. find her anywhere in town.]

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Nothing penetrates the film of smoke surrounding her. She stumbles down the stairs, coughing. She opens the window. The brilliant red of her hair is replaced with writhing flames that, somehow, haven't set anything on fire.

Brigid doesn't know what's going on, but she hates it. Everything is dim, unaccented, flat. All her senses are removed; the world feels like it's far, far away.

She wants a cup of coffee. Maybe after a jolt of caffeine, something she rarely indulges in, she'll be able to focus and tell what the heck is going on. Hearing something, Brigid twists around. "Charlie?" She tries to wave her hand to disperse the smoky wings that are following her around.

Meanwhile Charlie's experiencing a sensory overload. Good lord. That scent is too much. She can't help the coughing or the wince. It triggers memories and she hisses at Brigid, backing away quickly before looking at her apologetically.

"Sorry. Sorry."

Charlie studies Brigid carefully, black eyes confused and clearly worried. "God. You, too?"

Brigid shakes her head. "No, don't apologize." She grimaces as her hand randomly bursts into flame. Man, that's annoying. Maybe if she talks to the archangels? No, she can figure it out without angelic help.

"I can open a window if that would help? I'm not sure if a wind would help or hurt." She sighs and reaches up to brush back the flame-curls falling over her face.

"I have some advice, if you'll take it. Fire's kind of my thing." In a fashion. It couldn't help, could it?

"Try breathing slowly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It works for me when I feel like my fire's going nuts."

She'd have told her roommates about her ability, to warn them of possible problems and less to do a getting to know you kind of thing.

Brigid takes a deep breath and calms down. It's just like controlling the wolf. She can see the parallels already. It'll be fine. Just fine. Except, she can't smell anything. She can't hear anything. She can't sense anything, except the overwhelming stench of smoke and fire.

"It's not too bad. I only set the curtain on fire, so far. What's... well, your thing now?"

It helps that Brigid is a naturally calm and gentle person.

Charlie keeps her distance, nose wrinkling at the scent. She can't help it. It's too much light and noise and scent and oh lord she's going to go outside soon. Not yet, though. The sun's still out.

"Vampire, I think." She shows off her teeth for a moment. The teeth are pointed, sort of sharklike and longer than normal human teeth.

"I can smell everything. Something in the fridge has turned. I can hear everything. It's...a lot."

Brigid never explained about herself and now she regrets that. However, she's not going to let Charlie suffer. "I was going to clean it today, but... I'll try later."

She takes a moment and then turns to look at Charlie. "Focus on one thing, something familiar. A sound or a scent. Keep it in your focus and let it block out everything else. Make sure it's strong for you, but it doesn't have to be strong for anyone else." She knows how to do this. It is Werewolf 101.

"No, I can get it. It'll be easy." She'll pinpoint it and remove it.

Something familiar. Well, fire won't do it. So she hesitates for a moment before focusing on the ticking of the clock in the kitchen. She's pretty familiar with that sound. She even closes her eyes to focus, smiling briefly after a few minutes.

"Huh. That worked."

"Your senses get overwhelmed. Concentrating on something familiar basically... 'resets' your brain so that it's not collecting everything, unless you want it to."

The fire under control, Brigid begins to make coffee. "Do you want some?"

She remembers the vampire bit, but surely a cup of coffee won't be amiss? Brigid just wants to be able to drop to all fours and run into the woods. She wants to sink into the wolf and let it rule her for a little bit.

Charlie usually goes right for the coffee in the morning. For now, though? She visibly cringes away from the scent. Holy shit, is that ever strong.

"No. Thank you, though. It smells...wrong." She'll realize later that everything smells wrong except for blood. And won't that be a crisis of morals.

"I usually don't drink it much either, but... I didn't sleep well." Brigid's senses had been cut off and everything had gone quiet. Without the sounds to let her know what might be coming her way.

Paranoia isn't really a familiar emotion, but she's never been without her senses before. Except for once, but everyone got the flu now and again, even wolves.

After waking at the exact moment when his heart became a literal furnace and his brain began to tick, it takes most of the day for Oliver to calm down enough to feel safe leaving his attic. In fact, most of the morning was actually spent getting used to keeping himself in order, rather than letting the alternating waves of panic and rage get the better of him and throw him off entirely. Once or twice already (more like five or six times, really) he's accidentally let himself get so off-rhythm he's stopped functioning properly and lost what currently passes for consciousness and he does not like this. He does not like it at all. Years spent undermining and warring with those thrice-damned Crows and Canaries, an entire lifetime spent hating them with every fiber of his being, and now here he is, a burning metronome, some bastard breeding of the two.

Needless to say, even once he makes his way out to the lawn, he is not in the best of moods. Every time his thoughts turn angry and the ticking in his head misses or doubles a beat, his 'heart' spits sparks and embers. So mostly he's just outside because he can't even wear a shirt right now, let alone be certain that he isn't going to accidentally burn the house down. Also, he supposes he's going to need to find some fuel if he doesn't want to become a cold, metal husk by sunrise, so there's that.

Charlie's feeling only somewhat better about her situation. She finally found a way to go out in the sun, provided she become a clothing monster. Goodwill Golem, that's what she thinks she looks like. But it keeps her unburned for the most part and that's a blessing.

The scent triggers memories she'd rather not talk about ever. At most, she'll say she can in fact create fire. Which she told her roommates because it's only fair. And then avoided any and all questions about it by changing the subject. She's touchy about it.

And at present, she almost misses that ability. As much as she wants it gone, some warning would have been nice. Now she just feels cold and occasionally lost which is why she's not going far from the house.

The scent of fire catches her attention and she almost wonders if it's Brigid. But it's off somehow. Different.

She tracks it, solid black eyes looking everywhere and head tilted to focus on the sound. When she spots Oliver, she straightens and gives him a worried and almost sympathetic look. Said look is probably completely ruined by pale skin, too sharp teeth, features that are slightly oddly proportioned and completely black eyes but she's trying.

"Oh, Oliver. You, too?"

While Charlie may have shared her abilities with her roommates (a thing which is both appreciated and respected, in so far as no questions are asked from his arena), Oliver has not had to be too terribly open with his own. After all, the fact that there usually isn't a single machine in the house that doesn't glitch in his presence tends to make the point for him and he avoids any clocks in the household for both personal reasons and as a sheer point of courtesy. All together, those facts make the idea of his being a machine himself-- Well, his housemates will be welcome to judge that one on their own.

There's a spark as the sudden and unexpected sound of a voice nearby thrusts the ticking out of sync for just a second and Oliver squeezes his eyes shut for an instant, realigning and very carefully not letting his thoughts set him off again.

"Hello, Charlie." It's not an answer. The slightly disjointed motion of pulling his face into a half-hearted expression of anything remotely pleasant works better for that. "I see you've acquire an- ah- interesting new look, as well."

"Yeah. Whoever runs this lovely vacation spot thought I needed a make-over. Gotta say, I don't like it." There's a wrinkle of her nose and a shake of her head. No, she's not impressed with this. She's lacking her own fire and part of her wonders if it went to her room-mates somehow. She wouldn't be surprised. This place and the people who run it seem entirely capable of anything. They also seem dumb and that's a bad combination.

"So...what are you?" She really can't place what he is at all. She just knows he smells of metal and smoke and heat. It's strange. She's used to the last two being a constant around her.

"Did you see Brigid, yet? She's made of fire."

Oliver almost laughs. Almost. Instead, his expression settles a bit more wry, edging toward bitter. "'I don't like it' seems a very good summation of this entire situation." This change is just an extremely uncomfortable reminder of many things, most specifically his past and the complete lack of control he seems to have over his present.

"I haven't seen Brigid, no," he adds after a moment, temporarily side-stepping the first question. "Given your description, however, I'm beginning to think our ever so gracious hosts may have begun taking bets on how long before they get one of us to burn the house down."

Which just leaves the question of what is he to be answered. The fingers of one hand find their way into his hair, making no attempt to hide his combined anxiety and discomfort as he looks down at his own bare chest and the grating and gears that have taken over there. "I, myself, seem to have become something a bit too reminiscent of home. Not quite the same as the monsters I fought, no, but a bit too close for my liking."

The sudden change in everyone's species was definitely entertaining. At least if you were like Nathan and lucky enough to apparently have stayed the same. He's been out, making the most of everyone's unfortunate circumstances and when he spots Charlie Nathan's not about to make an exception.

He laughs at her get up, not exactly quietly. She'd be able to hear it easily even without her super vampire hearing. "So, what are you supposed to be?"

Charlie's trying so hard to find cover. Some sort of shade where she can move the clothing some. It's not so much that it's suffocating. She doesn't really need to breathe. It's just a nuisance. There's a reason she travels light and this is it. All this clothing just gets in the way of her movement and she wants to be able to move freely.

Nathan stops her in her tracks, though, and she snorts with frustration. This is ill-timed, Nathan. Very ill-timed. She turns, solid black eyes peering out at him between the scarf and the hat.

"Vampire. Or Goodwill Golem. I'm good with either." But her tone is as flat as possible (and muffled) and the look in her eyes is one of sheer annoyance.

"What about you? Or did you luck out?"

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day 58

In the house? :D

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Near the house; afternoon/evening

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Outside, DAYTIME >)

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