jigoku_logs | my auntie told her i kissed a soldier

The howl of pain that echoed down the corridor of the fourth floor was inhuman and bone-chilling, but the laughter that followed it wasn't much better. Hysterical and desperate, there was a hint of self-depreciation in it. Mika staggered down the hallway, one hand clutching her left eye as her lips pulled back in a twisted mockery of a smile, her other hand clutching her cane so hard her scarred knuckles had gone bone white. Blood seeped between her fingers as tears of pain streamed down her cheek while she scanned the hall searching for something.

Or possibly someone.

"Very funny, 'daddy,' but that's a horrible trick to play on someone." Her voice was a seething growl between clenched fangs. "I don't think I like your game very much!" Mika's grip on her cane shifted, holding it like a bludgeoning weapon instead of a walking aid. Fur bristling, she raised the cane higher as she sniffed the air.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

Edited 2013-05-31 19:26 (UTC)

A doll sails by her head, joints rattling and chattering in its sockets. It leaves a spatter of blood from something it's holding in its wake, and it soon become apparent that the red blood is seeping from Karkat's side, and that he just grabbed and threw the doll away.

He catches sight of Mika and clamps his hand over the wound, trying to staunch it with his shirt. Though her blood is a red as his, old habits died hard.

A grunt, and he acknowledges her.

"Don't think any of the games they're playing are a fucking laugh riot for anyone."

Edited (oops, sorry - what's the date for this?) 2013-06-01 14:46 (UTC)

She turns toward the sound, her ears twitching forward as she breathes heavily. For a moment she thinks hard, trying to place his face before realizing she couldn't, which meant he must have arrived while she'd been hiding in her room. Her mouth twists unhappily and she nods.

"They never are." Making a distressed sound in the back of her throat, she turned to get a good look at where his doll had gone. "We've got to capture them somehow. Pinning them should keep them from escaping. I've got some red tape in my bag, we've got to disarm them and keep them from hurting anyone else."

When she pulled her hand away from her face, it was visibly shaking as she stared at the mess on her palm before clenching her fist.

He shakes his head. "Tried it. They just reform somewhere else." He might be a fount of bad ideas often, but he has some good ones. "We're on the all out defensive here."

The sight of her blood makes him a little queasy, but his words are true. Being on the defensive means that they have to take care of himself. That means patching up their wounds. So, accessing his sylladex, he pulls out the first aid kit he usually has stowed away in there and comes closer to her.

"I threw mine pretty hard, she won't be back up for a bit. Here, use this."

Swiping some gauze and antiseptic for himself, he tosses her the rest of it.

"What's yours look like?"

"Do they? Damn it." She bared her fangs in anger and pain. How long had it been since she'd had to deal with this? Three years? Almost four? How had they handled it the first time? Growling under her breath in frustration, her ears flattened to her scalp and her tail tucked. She couldn't remember.

The offered first aid kit catches her by surprise, but she accepts it without anything less than gratitude. Catching it easily, already steeling herself for the pain that would follow using antiseptic on her sliced face.

"Something like me, only male and fairly large for a doll. Steel-grey fur, three scratches across the left side of the mouth. Tends to look like it's laughing at you." Mika can't help but wince as she cleans it, then puts on a medicated gauze patch before applying a pad over her eye and taping it in place. Tossing the kit back to Karkat with a grateful thank you, she licks some of the blood off her fingers before she realizes what she's doing.

"And yours?"

Edited 2013-06-01 22:02 (UTC)

He patched himself up with the quick efficiency of someone used to dealing with stab wounds. Before she was even done, he pulled his shirt back over the wound and had cleared away the blood, stowing the evidence of the cherry-red fluid in his cards. When he catches the kit, that goes in too.

"Grey skinned, pointy candycorn horns. Red glasses, red eyes." He points to his own eyeballs. "All red. Not just the iris - pupil and sclera too. Wears the libra sign on her shirt."

Glancing down the hall, he looked for any sign of movement from either. Seeing none, he huffed out a sigh. "Been dealing with this shit since Monday. You?"

"Libra sign, got it." She nodded, committing it to memory as her mind raced. Karkat's scent was memorized as well, as she doubted the dolls would bother to clean themselves up between attempted stabbings.

"The same. At least when this place goes to hell it usually likes to do it all at once instead of piecemeal." Mouth twisted unhappily, she snorts. "Not like that's any consolation."

Turning back to Karkat, she cocked her head and looked him over, wracking her brain to see if she'd seen him around before. "When did you wake up here? I don't remember seeing you around before. I try to remember all the new arrivals."

"Couple of months ago." He narrowed his eyes. "I kind of had psycho clown issues for a while." So he hadn't been around people that often. And now Gamzee was being eerily silent again...

Well, whatever. He can worry about that when killer dolls weren't trying to stab his face off. Even though the first thing he did was run down to Gamzee's apartment to see if he was there - no, he needed to stop.

"Anyway, we're not the only ones. Some of them are really going for other people."

"Psycho...clown?" Her disbelief was obvious, but she figured it would be best to leave that topic for another time. She had to find that doll of her father before anyone else did.

"Not surprising, it was like this the last time, too." Her mouth twisted unhappily. "There's got to be a way to stop them, and I can't even remember how." With her frustration and pain boiling so near the surface, Mika had to shake her head to clear it.

"We've got to come up with a plan. Does the red tape even affect them at all?"

He clenches his jaw, deciding that asking 'If it's not happening like it did last time, don't you think it might be different in this case?'. Anything similar might help them out here, after all. Besides, he's so fucking through with being the leader.

"Well, I tied her up with some and she somehow got out and stabbed me again. So I figure it doesn't do much? Or it's like smashing them - disable them and they get back up?" He shrugs. "Fuck do I know..."

"If the tape doesn't work, I...shit, I don't know! The tape's the only thing that's ever worked semi-permanently around here. Damn it!" A sudden sharp stab of pain left her clutching her face, her claws digging into her scalp as she tried furiously to think of something.

"Maybe if we capture them and tape them, put them in a confined space somehow. It was three years ago or more since this has happened, I can't remember anything!" When she pulled her hand away from the patch on her eye, she glanced at her palm, clenching her hand into a fist when she saw that blood had seeped through the bandages. "Head wounds...of course."

"Have there been any noticeable patterns with the doll attacks? Mine only attacked me once so far but I lost track of him." For obvious reasons, as it was hard to see where an enemy went when she was busy clutching her face and screaming.

"I don't know. I've been trying to keep mine from stabbing my fucking eyes ou -"

Rattle.

He turns around quickly, sickle jumping to his hand.

Viola is used, by now, to hoisting up her skirts and running. There were bears and skulls and invisible chefs, eyes and statues and creatures that scraped in the dark in the House. Here, there were ghosts and demons, and now there were doll.

Her own doll drags itself along the floor, hauling a heavy kitchen knife behind it. It's easily outrun and the sight, while gruesome, would be almost comical in another situation. But it's not just her doll that chases her - no. There are more, and they're all coming for her.

She rounds the corner of the second floor hall, panting, reluctant to go onto the stairwell but not sure if her plan to get rid of the lot in one swoop would be safe to do on the second floor. Why had she let herself get chased up here...

Edited (the date) 2013-06-01 14:43 (UTC)

Running through the fourth floor hallway? Expect to see a young girl's head come skidding out of an open door. It's got long black hair and black eyes marked with cross shapes around them. The mouth is open in a slight 'o' of surprise.

A doll of a handsome boy, with similar markings over his eyes, runs out after the head. A meat clever, huge in its tiny hands, is being dragged behind it.

Edited 2013-06-01 14:44 (UTC)

[ In the many months he has been trapped here, this week has been by far the worst. His body is weak from mental fatigue and sheer physical exhaustion, running on empty. He’s managed a scattered total of four hours of rest across two and a half days of peril. The first night, the doll had tried to take Dranzer from him—there is now a doll-sized crater in the wall separating his room from the apartment’s bathroom. After that, the Brooklyn doll had never come after Kai without an entourage. He can only be gratified to know that he’d had the forethought to hide his arms stockpile when the doll hadn’t been around to note the location. Not that these things needed help to find weapons.

Currently, he’s moving down the fourth floor hallway, as silent as a specter. It’s with no small measure of relief that he realizes he’s lost the band of dolls that have been hunting him. But before he can get ahead of himself, he’s frozen in his tracks by the sudden appearance of something dark flying out into the corridor. When he realizes what it is, he draws back in shock, a startled noise wrenched from his throat.

He’s equipped with a handgun and a folding knife—and yet, it’s the beyblade he goes for when he spots the doll chasing after the decapitated head.

Having never seen Visi or Vice before, he doesn’t make the connection, doesn’t bother attacking. He’s clearly too late to help the victim, right? She must already be dead. ]

[Fury isn't something Visi has ever felt before. In truth, she doesn't even truly feel it now - not the way a human would. But there's a hot, bubbling feeling roiling through her that makes her want to hurt - to destroy the creature that is shaped like her perfect brother. It had sought to harm her and she had had to rip off her own head to stop it damaging her body.

Pain - she'd never felt it before, not on her Flesh, and she had been astounded by how little tolerance she had for it. Her Flesh could pass over ragged glass shards without any issue, could slide over rough surfaces and corrosive materials and she knew she would be all right. But this?

She had to save the head before the doll tried to hurt it more.

Shedding her arms - they fall to the floor with two dull thunks, she whips her body out of the room after the doll. Her flesh outstretches, ready to seize and grab, but she's distracted at the sight of the person outside. For a moment, it looks like she's about to go for them instead - larger, stronger, more likely to cause pain - but then she turns her attention back to the Vice doll and flows towards it.]

Don't let it get ahead of us!

[ Before he can even react to the sudden thunks from the adjacent apartment, something surges into the hallway. Recoiling, his immediate thought is that it’s a tidal wave of sludge pouring out of the apartment room until the smell hits him. Meat, he realizes numbly. It’s raw meat. And as the meat seems to give shape to itself on its own accord, he slowly turns to look upon the decapitated head once more. His mind has fallen silent, his breath held prisoner in his chest. It was only a matter of time before he ran into one of them, he knows. He should consider himself fortunate that this is not the male monster. But instead of relief, he only feels a dark, icy spite for this creature. Later, when this night is over and he has returned to his room, Kai will remember this encounter and will remember with numb horror the moment he considered stomping on Visi’s head. Right now, he only entertains the temptation briefly before whirling around to return the way he came. Let the monster be dealt with by another monster, he thinks. It is no concern of his. As exhaustion and fear and anger threaten to overwhelm him, he envelops himself in a cloak of cold disregard.

Except at the end of the hall, the way he came, is the Brooklyn doll. Behind it looms a small army of dolls, all similarly armed to the teeth in knives, scissors, pens, and other pointy makeshift weapons. As the Brooklyn doll smiles at Kai, blood on its cheek, Kai only buries himself further in his invisible cloak. Going back is not an option, but when has it ever been? Pivoting, he positions himself so he can watch the hoard of dolls out of his periphery and considers his options. He is not very familiar with the fourth floor, as it is the one floor that Mika warned him about the night of his arrival. He can try a nearby apartment door, but there is no knowing what was inside...or who. No, it is better not to trap himself in an unknown apartment while he is being hunted. This means that he will need to continue down the hall—past Visi’s head, the doll, and Visi’s body. ]

Jigoku’s decapitated “dominant predator” is making head puns to me, [ he remarks tonelessly to himself, no trace of humor in his voice. The ripcord teeth slide into the launcher as he prepares for combat. ] I’m so done with this place.

[ Dranzer’s blade tears through the air, careening after the doll. ]

[With the doll distracted by the incoming weapon, Visi grabs her head with her forelimbs. The doll thrashes, slashing and cutting with the sharp implement it holds, but her flesh is resilient and heals up the worst of the tears. She rolls the head into her apartment and closes the door; it'll be safer in there than out here.

Now, with her breakable parts locked away and the Vice doll in pieces from the destructive force of Dranzer, the girl of meat hurls herself towards the mass of incoming dolls. She flows past Kai to wind herself around the dolls, ripping and tearing the worst of them apart.

When she comes back up, she pulls a clever out of her body with a wet, meaty unk of a noise.]

There are more back that way. I can feel their footsteps!

[She tries to swipe at another.]

[ Trying to divide his attention between the dolls, Visi, and Dranzer obviously won't be effective, so Kai focuses on the greatest threat in the hall: the fleshchild. He trusts his blade to make quick work of the porcelain toy and trusts his own senses to warn him when the other dolls get too close, but Visi—

Hissing, he flattens himself against the corridor wall as she flows past him. The folding knife is in his hand, though he can't remember when it got there. When she returns, he doesn't bother leveling it at her. What use would a knife be against a creature like this?

But neither does he sheathe it.

Her words are met with tense silence. While it's not uncommon for Kai to default to an expression of distant impassiveness, there's a blank quality to his face now; he's at a total loss. Why is she talking to him? Why is she even warning him or attacking the dolls that are hunting him? ]

Why are you standing there? Do you want them to kill you?

[She asks it almost casually, considering the situations. The dolls tear open her Flesh but she simply folds it up over itself and lunges for them, twisting limbs off, slashing them with her knife.]

[ He does not deign to answer such an absurd question. Crushing his overwhelmingly loud thoughts into a steely silence, he recalls Dranzer’s blade to him. Then, with a cold glance at the toys mutilating Visi’s flesh, he wordlessly takes off down the opposite end of the hall. The destroyed Vice doll reaches for him as he sprints by, but Kai kicks it with enough force to shatter its porcelain arm. He continues running. ]

[She wasn't lying about the dolls coming the other way - she could feel it in her Flesh. But if Kai had a death wish - so be it. She could harvest him later if the dolls left anything to go by. Right now she has her own trouble.

Slashing and striking, she fights against the dolls that tear at her.]

In his own room, Garry's been cornered by a pack of unknown dolls - his own, Red Eyes, is the ringleader. The portraits and paintings around his room are laughing at him, shrill and high, and signs of a struggle can easily be seen. Chairs toppled over, items strewn about the floor - and Garry batting away dolls with his fire poker, a look of extreme fear on his face.

to anyone listening in, his words might sound rather insane, but to Garry himself, they're quite real.

"--I wont be your friend and I'm never going back there! Don't touch me dammit! Don't-" A sob, as he kicks a doll with a large knife away from him, and presses his back against the wall behind him, exhausted and upset.

"Don't come any closer... please..."

The portraits around his room laugh, shrill and high. and as a doll with plus-shaped eyes digs it's knife into his calf, and a few of the petals on his rose fall to the ground, Garry lets out a yell that pierces above them all.

Edited 2013-06-01 14:50 (UTC)

[There's a large, heavy gash on his thigh and it aches with every movement - but Garry had helped before and he was sure he could help again. Every other step, he looks over his shoulder for the sight of the Lorax doll. Last he'd saw it, it'd tried to cut him with the knife it was holding in its hands. The legs, a part of his mind couldn't help but notice - it'd gone for the legs. Like it was chopping him down.

Hysteria clashes with need and turns to a clearheaded focus. He needs to get to Garry and Garry can help fix him up. That's all that matters right now. So he grips the taped-up haft of his axe and makes his way up to the room.

When he gets there, though, all thought of Garyr helping him leave his head. He runs to the door, leg shrieking pain along his nerves as he goes. When he gets to the door, he tries to open it, hoping it's not locked.]

Garry!

[It's not a loud call - he still has to be careful of his mouth from the slit. He feels dizzy now, and from down the hall he hears the scuffling sound of plush feet over the carpet and tiles.

He puts his shoulder against the door and shoves.]

[ the door gives - no one locked it after busting in, what with their height and all. Garry's eyes snap up, wide and frightened, until he sees Once-ler there, and he sags with relief. ]

Once'-!

[ the dolls turn now, and the portraits around the room stop their giggling, leveling Once-ler with dirty glares as they start to whisper. soft calls of 'meddler' and 'scarred' followed by cruel giggles start to resonate loudly, and a few of the dolls start to try and climb Garry, while a few turn on Once-ler himself. panic sets in for Garry again, and he throws dolls across the room, a few of them cutting into his legs before he can manage to throw them off. ]

[He doesn't focus on the taunting paintings because he's too busy trying to brush dolls off of him. He didn't hurt his own, only ignored it, so they're just out to scare rather than hurt for now. That is, until he rips one off and smashes it with his heel until it shatters, and throws the others against the wall.]

Garry!

[He reaches out to grab him. It's pretty obvious they can't stay there, and better make a run for it while they can.]

[ his legs don't feel like moving until he sees Once-ler's hand - and suddenly everything doesn't seem all that hopeless any more. a few moments ago death by doll seemed inevitable, and that horror of dying here alone, like he'd feared in the Gallery... it seemed so real and terrifying that he felt he couldn't do a thing about it. fear had paralysed him earlier - fear of Red Eyes, and all its 'friends'.

but that green-clad hand reaching out to him makes everything seem hopeful again, and he'll reach back out to grab it. it wasn't like the time Once-ler had to drag him out of a room once before when he was paralysed by fear, though - this time he'll run with him, pulling him along with him. his long legs keep running, he's not even sure where. all he knows is he needs to be safe- Once-ler needs to be safe. his dear friend, willing to risk his life to protect him, even after everything.

tears sting his eyes and he doesn't dare look behind them, because he knows the dolls are following. ]

[Slamming the door shut behind them, he wastes a couple of precious moments looking for something to jam it with before cursing himself for not dragging one of those grinning paintings off the wall to do exactly that. Laugh it up when she's stopping them from getting to them now, you darned nuisance!

That would have been so cool. And clever, too. Dammit, why hadn't he done it? But, hand in hand with Garry and bolting down the second-floor hallway, he doesn't have time to lament it too badly. The cut on his leg flashes pain with every motion and the dull, constant throb from his still healing lips and cheeks chime in with it.

He lets go of his hand at the stairwell and scrapes the door shut behind them, taking a moment to lean on the railing and puff out his breath.]

N-never going to like dolls again...

[ Garry is absolutely silent, save for the sounds of his frantic panting, when they finally come to a stop in the stairwell. knees weak, and palms sweaty, he completely falls to his knees, not caring if they'll bruise or how it'll affect the multiple, still-bleeding cuts on his legs.

for the moment, he's given up, now that they're safe(?) and alone.

he gives up, for now. he'll be strong again soon, but right now he just needs to cry. ]

[Startled, the Once-ler reaches out to pat his back. He's a little uncertain of how to comfort him, and he keeps his eyes wide for any signs of any dolls.]

I'm so sorry, Once'.

[He looks at him, frowns, then shakes his head.]

Nothhing to bhve sorry abhvout. [Nothing to be sorry about. And he means it, too.]

It's okay.

All of this- I keep getting you hurt- I'm so weak.

[He gives him a light smack upside the head, then points at his cheeks. Then at Garry. Then shakes his head.]

Not. You.

[It's frustrating, he wants to say more, but it hurts. Damn it, and he'd left his phone in his apartment, when that horrible doll...

Dolls.

The hallways door bulges outwards.]

[ the smack gives him a start, and he stares at Once-ler's face, his own expression softening as he wipes his tears away. he was... right, it wasn't his fault. it was so hard to convince himself of that, though, even if he knew the truth deep down. ]

...I'm sorry. I shouldn't be making you speak too much, relax, alri- [ he yelps, and jumps to his feet, as he sees the door bulge out.

keeping Once-ler safe was his top priority now- he was wounded much more deeply than he himself was. carefully he'll secure his rose to his lapel, and reach for Once-ler's hand again. ]

Down the stairs?

[He nods emphatically, and starts to scramble down the stairs.

A blur of orange and a something white - he screeches to a halt as his own doll lands on the stairs. It'd be hilarious if it wasn't terrifying.

With a yelp, he kicks the Lorax as hard as he can.]

Watch your leg!

[ he moves to put himself between Once' and the orange Lorax doll to protect him if it strikes again. ]

Keep heading down!

[Yep, going for you too, Garry. Once-ler tries to kick it again.]

my auntie told her i kissed a soldier

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Monday! around 3am

Friday, around 1pm

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