\ Haven:Mist and Shadow Logs/SR Matthew-Agness Lover
Logs

SR Matthew-Agness Lover

Colin has accepted the encounter. A ghost with only fragments of memory that have driven them near insane is attacking your target. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.


In the Candy Kingdom Sitting Room of Rainbow Joy The lights are on. A little like sitting inside a rainbow cloud, this room has been decorated in candy-hued pastels, leaving the brighter colours to come from the unparalleled views of the surrounding forest to the west and endless ocean to the east through the enormous full height windows. What is visible of the walls and ceiling, has been painted in soft tones with splattered contrasting paint overlaid, creating a mural of overlapping fantasy colours. A hundred paper origami animals hang from the ceiling on invisible cords, while lurking in the frames of the eastern windows are a handful of suspended clear crystal prisms to catch the morning sunlight and scatter it into multi-coloured beams over the sensibly plain, ash wood floor.

In the centre of the room is a glass coffee table shaped like a cut diamond, around which are a trio of enormous buddabags in airy seafoam green, pale periwinkle blue and soft wisteria purple. Along the northern wall is a simple white desk with a tangerine-cased laptop computer resting on it, and a tub of crafting supplies beneath, while on the southern end of the rounded room, coloured plexiglass stairs run down to the floor below, lacking risers or handrails.


Dynamic Places: a seafoam green buddabag


Coel arrives.


Colin moves to the seafoam buddabag.


Coel joins the seafoam buddabag.


Colin is at the top of the repurposed lighthouse tower, in the midst of snuggling on up on the seafoam buddabag with Coel as platonic bros so often do. He's got one arm and one leg tossed over the other man, and his sleeves are hiked up to show off both his feathers and his physical fitness. "Hershey's is the worst chocolate, anyway. Clearly the guy has no taste."


Coel has an arm hooked around Colin on that seafoam buddabag doing some totally platonic bro cuddling with his bag companion. He scrunches his brows to shoot Colin a look of befuddlement, "You're on drugs, Hershey's is awesome."


"Tastes like fucking...I dunno. Chemicals with chocolate flavor," Colin complains, squinting his unnatural, round black eyes back at Coel.


Colin thinks; "He's all right. But Luci is better."


Colin thinks; "Luci's better than anyone. ...How much of that is me thinking that, and how much is Forfax's mindfuckery?"


Colin (Internally) loves Forfax, too. He knows why he can't help it. They admitted what they did to him and Luci. But he doesn't want it to stop.


"All chocolate tastes like chocolate with chemical flavors in it." Coel insists as he squints his hazel eyes back at Colin. "You ever accidentally bite onto the foil they wrap around it though? Literally the worst."


Just an average three-day weekend in Haven, piracy, delusions, flooding, fitness epidemic, and who knows what other sinister events have occurred under the surface. With so much supernatural activity crammed into one weekend, it really is a wonder that more people in the town are not aware of it than presumably are. As the two discuss chocolate in the totally bromantic fashion, cuddling in a buddabag, arm and leg wrapped as they are, this place could almost be a place existing separate from all of that, a cloud nine paradise of a sort. If not for the less than human features that Colin displays.

But even the supernatural takes long weekends and certainly would never intrude on such a totally heterosexual scene, right?


"No," Colin snorts, amused. "Why would you do that?" He laughs at the notion, his chest shaking slightly where Coel can feel it. "You mean like...just one little piece of it got stuck and you didn't notice, or you just bit into the whole fucking tinfoil-wrapped package?"


Colin thinks; "I really need to redecorate this fucking room."


"Both." Coel shamelessly states at first and then he seems to think about it. "Er, either. I mean - I've stuck crazier shit in my mouth man." he defensively explains his free hand withdrawing from bromantically stroking at Colin's thigh and now wiggles in a dismissive motion at the space above them. "Like, sometimes you just -see- shit when you're younger and you go 'Huh I wonder how that tastes'."


Colin thinks; "It's just...the beanbags are so comfortable. Not beanbags. What are they called again?"


"I thought dogs couldn't have chocolate. What happens when you got chocolate in your belly and you shift. Do you get sick?" Colin asks, his corvid-cawed tone caught somewhere between a tease and a serious question.


"Actually the worst." Coel states plainly as he tries to feign being actually upset. It doesn't work since he barks out a laugh soon after his complain is finished but he tried! "Next time I have some chocolate I'll let you know."


Colin thinks; "Who knows how long I can even afford this place, even with only paying half the rent. Maybe I should just move in with Luci. I just don't wanna smother her."


Biting into tin foil is the worst, especially for anyone that has fillings in their teeth. The sensation is not unlike licking a 9-Volt battery, but in the teeth. Still, it is at the very least an unexpected surprise when you expect chocolatey goodness, a shocking surprise for a filling.

As the conversation continues between the total bros, Colin and Coel, cuddled up as they are, it starts to feel a bit chilly, like the AC suddenly cycled and started spewing out icicles instead of just cooled air. This chill is even enough to penetrate the clothing the two gentlemen are wearing in quick order. Of course, it might also be doubly alarming, given the relative heat of the beginning of summer.


Colin's house exists in an eternal pocket of summer, the temperature fully consistent no matter the weather, so the drop is particularly strange to him. He wriggles away just enough to pull his sleeves down. "The fuck? Do you feel that, or do I have a fever?" he asks, his surprise somehow enhancing his harsh Rhode Island accent.


Private (Colin): You start to feel your blood boil, annoyance rising in only an instant. You cannot believe anyone would bite the tin foil around a chocolate. And claim that Hershey's is good chocolate? Who on earth would do that? What kind if idiot cannot unwrap a piece of chocolate? Blood starts pounding in your ears like the rhythm of a war drum. You can hear it, in time with your accelerating heart beat.


The shiver that crawls onto Coel's flesh has him rumbling out a moody noise and once Colin wiggles he gingerly tugs his arm out from beneath him. "Dude, the weather has been absolute /ass/ lately." he remarks, most likely forgetting the constant summer that the lighthouse(Party Tower) usually sits in. He sits up clumsily to rub at his uncovered arms, "Probably should grab Luci a blanket if it gets any worse."


Colin shivers again and starts edging away from Coel just to sit up. Fingers glide through his hair, straightening it and the feathers strewn within, before crossing his arms to shield against the newfound cold. His eyes become more intense, though, as he stares at his companion, slowly shifting from concern at the cold into irritation or even anger. "Don't be an absolute fucking dumbass," he harshly chirps, tone clipped. "This place is always warm. It isn't the fucking /weather/. But I shouldn't expect brains from somebody who eats tinfoil."


Colin thinks; "He needs to keep my girlfriend's name out of his mouth."


There is a sudden pause from Coel and as he scoots towards the edge of the bag himself he can't help but shoot Colin a puzzled, and clearly irritated sort of glance, muttering out a rude, "Listen, Tweety.. unruffle your fuckin' feathers. I'm sure it isn't anything." he reassures and moves to lazily get up to his feet, brushing off his pant legs in some idle moody tick.


The temperature continues to drop at quick pace, like some how the pair were put into a meat locker and not told about it. The glass coffee table frosts over with fog. Even the paper origami animals get a layer of frost. The windows fog over and frost starts to spread across those surfaces as well, blocking out the view of the night woodlands beyond. Breath starts coming out of both Colin and Coel in little clouds of water vapor. And hairs start to rise where applicable for the sudden temperature shift.


Private (Colin): He probably wants to steal your girlfriend, you realize. The way he wants to treat her is the way a boyfriend should, so he is trying to replace you. He's trying to take her. And the realization of that brings you to only one logical conclusion...


Colin (Internally) is normally pretty immune to jealousy, but at the moment, Envy starts to boil within him, enough to raise the eyebrows of the infamous Professor Marcus Shelly.


"Alright.. okay, /maybe/ its something." Coel says only after he starts to see his own breath floating away into the chilled air. He rubs harshly at his forearms as if to wipe away the cold to no avail.


Coel thinks; "Alright.. what makes things cold? Fae, magic-fuckers, uh.. ghosts. Can't be ghosts we just salted this place like a week ago."


Colin draws himself up, but not so lazily as Coel, his movements harsh and quick and cold as the chilling room. While he should probably be alarmed at his surroundings, he seems to be far more fixated on Coel, whom he approaches with a brisk, long step. He helps Coel up to his feet by grabbing his shirt collar and hauling him as best as he can. Thank goodness he doesn't have supernatural strength or this might be a lot rougher. "Why do you wanna coddle my girlfriend?" he snaps at him. "Is it because of what you know?" he asks in a paranoid fashion, the feathers growing from his scalp ruffling and stirring his hair into a strange sort of spiky quasi-style. "Because of what Forfax told you? Are you gonna tell her, so you can have her instead?!" A bizarre and out-of-left-field accusation, for sure, and weirdly specific and unfair.


Colin feels a strong desire to hurt Coel.


While the cold continues to settle around Colin and Coel, a new manifestation begins to take root. Distortions begin to appear around the room, phantom projections of people. Two look like a young couple, male and female. A third is apart from them, but there is a strong, red line connecting the hearts of him to the female, even as she hugs the first. The distortion flickers and shows the female with the connected male, close, but not passionate. The connected suitor gestures toward the area where the first male is separated now. Soon, the two males are alone together, with the connection trailing off to the woman outside the room. And the connected male starts attacking the other, brutally, bashing him, beating him, eventually, murdering him, leaving him a flickering body on the floor in a pool of blood.


Private (Colin): Seeing the scene unfold, you additionally get the hurt, the betrayal, feel the pain of the non-connected man, the one the woman was with, despite the connection to the other. You feel it, deeply, love for her, love for Luci, love for Forfax, co-mingled into a single, powerful emotion. And then it is all overriden with a flood of that betrayal, a vicious, visceral response to feeling yourself murdered before your own eyes. And inside, your mind howls with rage and claws to release itself to administer justice, revenge...


Colin feels a strong desire to kill Coel.


Surprisingly for once Coel hadn't expected to get roughed up and when Colin's grip finds its hold into his shirt he takes a few brief moments to close the distance between himself and the other man - not yet trying to remove the grip on his shirt. His hazel gaze moves to train itself towards Colin's dark orbs and a look of anger flickers into the recognizably angry, faux-smug expression he usually has. "Are you fu-.." he begins though the words are cut short as his attention flicks to the distortions shifting the room around them and he instinctively moves an arm to shove at Colin just hard enough to try and push him away regardless of what may happen to his own poor, torn up shirt.


Coel recalls the distortions of this very same room changing, shifting and the imagery of a phantom woman suffering here.


Coel thinks; "A'ight.. chill.. how did Luna get rid of it last time.. fuckin'.. magic."


Private (Coel): You cannot be certain, but she may even look like the same woman. From a different angle this time.


Coel thinks; "Agnes.. damn it, I thought you moved on.."


Coel has far superior strength, so shoving Colin away isn't terribly hard, but even as he staggers away he reaches for a subtle sheath at his belt. The blade comes out with a flash of frosty steel. While he certainly looked in its direction, the moon-pale man barely seems cognizant of the delusion before the pair, because his focus -- and his raw, unadulterated hatred -- appears to be entirely, single-mindedly, dangerously on Coel. "Why do you always act like you're stronger than me?" he hisses as he brandishes the knife from a few feet away. "Why do you always act like you're better? You think you can strongarm in and steal her love? You can fuck her all you want, but she will /NEVER/ love you."


Colin unsheathes his eye-decorated damascus steel skinning knife.


The familiar motion of a knife being pulled certainly gets Coel's attention and he takes a hasty few steps back, his footwork not nearly as clumsy and sluggish as it usually is. "Woah woah, Colin, relax a second." he says as if trying to.. literally convince someone not to stab him. "It isn't anything like that in the slightest. You know that, think about it - this ain't you."


Coel thinks; "God damn it.. "


Hideously distorted male laughter starts to cackle within the small paradise of a room. Every corner and crease in in the room begins to bleed, flooding down and joining the pool around the flickering distortion of the body. Agnes's boyfriend. A sound fills the room, a pounding like a war drum, synced to Colin's pulse. The blood begins to glow red in accompaniment of each percussive strike. "Kill the betrayer, your best friend, the thief, the back stabber," a male's voice reverberates through the room.


Coel recalls a series of brief memories of being stabbed when he was younger in the streets of Los Angeles. Especially at the hands of his ex-girlfriend, on more than one occasion.


Colin takes a few steps to the beat of the terrible drum. Tick. Tick. Tick, go his inhuman claws. And then, in the space of a blink, he's right in front of Coel, the knife poised at his throat but not yet penetrating. "I let you in my bed, I let you fuck me," he says lewdly, "and all the while you've been planning," he croaks, his voice sounding even less normal than usual, even more strangely avian. "All the while you've had her in mind. I would've let you screw her, but you had to try and tear us apart!" Still, he seems too livid to properly process the ghostly illusions going on around him, as if all they did was rile him up rather than cause him to question.


Coel's form faintly leans back as if he had intended to take another step back with the approaching clacks of Colin's feet against the floor. Though once the man flickers in and out and the blade is brought to his neck he can't help but tilt his chin upwards. Surely it was just an instinctive twitch at having a blade so close to his throat, but it could definitely be a display or arrogance in the poorly timed moment. His jaw tenses as Colin caws out his harsh accusations, once and then twice.. and whether because of the Latino's lack of patience or the need to lash back out he tries to harshly jerk an arm towards Colin's blade wielding hand, hoping to smack it away or at least knock the other man off balance. "Back /up/, Colin!" he practically snarls.


Private (Colin): You feel someone sifting through your thoughts, rifling around in your mind, digging, clawing, until they find a concept, an index card, a barely recognized and rarely articulated facet of your existence. A fear. A fear so primitive, so buried, and then all the red flags regarding Luci, Forfax, and Coel start popping up around it. Coel is trying to take Luci and leave you -ALONE-. maybe going so far as to insert himself between you and Forfax as well. He wants to take everything from you, leave you alone and even abandoned by Forfax.


Colin thinks; "Wait...but this is..."


Coel recalls the sharp stinging chill of a blade piercing his flesh.


Coel thinks; "Mister Graves.. Jonathon.. whatever. Wife-beating son of a.. alright, think.. banish ghosts.. uh.. more salt.. that didn't work the fir-- Fucking Colin, I swear to God."


(Internally) Colin attempts feebly to fight against the presence rifling through his thoughts, but the fear...it's rooted so deep. He loves Forfax and Luci with every fiber of his being, after all... Still, he tries.


The room continues to throb and pound, filling the ears with percussive strikes and glowing blood. The blood starts to freeze, solidifying into a crystalline light-show with the flashing beats. The man from the pool of blood appears beside, no, inside, outside, around Colin, wearing a sinister, snarling sneer. "He will betray you," Colin says with the other person's voice. "End him now. Save yourself the torment. People like him deserve no less," Colin continues to say in the altered voice.


Colin goes to swat away the hand going for his knife and manages to stop it, but not bat it away exactly. Coel is in a state of fight or flight, pushing himself with whatever adrenaline he can muster, though Colin's murderous intent is still pushing quite hard.


While the struggle becomes apparent on his face, in the end Colin is no match for this entity, whatever it is, in his head, rummaging through his thoughts, controlling him like a puppet, speaking with his own lips. The moon-pale man screeches out a shrill sound that should not come from any human throat, and lunges for Coel, though thankfully not with the knife just yet -- he's just trying to shove him down onto the floor with a well-aimed strike. Even though his strength is only respectable rather than truly impressive, he knows where to hit for maximal impact.


With his balance already off it probably didn't take Colin half the effort to knock the sickly Coel down onto the ground. Though he probably tried to find a hold on the other man on his way down, "Colin STOP!" he tries to shout out even as he's on the ground and resisting every inch of the way. "I swear to fucking.. fucking GOD Colin.. I don't want to.." the warning trails off and with the following swing of his elbow at Colin's head.


Coel thinks; "Can't fight him.. fucking.."


Private (Colin): The claws start to slacken, not wanting to let go, but losing their grip, ever so slowly. Whatever it is in there perhaps overextending itself with so much flashiness. It wants to stay, it howls to finish what has started. But it's got no control any more.


(Internally) The growing, snarling roar that echoes inside of Coel's mind only seems to goad on the violent encounter with his comrade. A pained rage throbbing against the Latino's chest and his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears at a steady pace with those eerie, ghostly drums.


Colin feels a strong desire to stab something, someone, release that energy, that rage that's built up in him..


Coel ends up on the floor after Colin's forward momentum, but rolls back to his feet as quick as he can. Unfortunately, not quite fast enough to get a good swing on Colin, which barely grazes past his head.


The decorations around the room start to warm up, whatever was in motion starts to lose steam. The visual elements start to fade, leaving the bros in a room with only the audible drum noises still.


Colin (Internally) can't help it, even now, he has to...he has to do something...it's in him...it's...


Colin goes down with Coel, only to sit astride him, both hands on the knife and ready to deliver some swift downward motion. His chilly hands grip the handle tightly, and whether it's from the cold or his angry tension is difficult to say. But then, he turns that knife on himself and stabs himself right in the chest as hard as he can, the sickly sound of the knife penetrating his own flesh particularly grisly to supernatural ears. And then he shrieks like a bird and falls off to the side onto his back.


Whether Coel had managed back to his feet or was stuck beneath Colin it hadn't mattered, because once the man inflicts the wound upon himself he can't help but scramble over to his side. Any aggression that had been pounding through his muscles seeming to fade in a panic that brings him right back to the other man's side and trying to look over the knife and the impact it may have had. He doesn't quite touch anything yet, instead his wide hazel-gaze only trains along every inch of the self-inflicted wound. "F-fuck.. C-.. d-don't worry. Don't worry, holy shit." he says during his own frantic gawking.


It's bad. It's very bad. Colin's mouth is pouring a channel of blood and he's choking on it, gagging on it. Even his usually keen black eyes look somehow fogged and hazy as he bleeds his sticky lifeblood all over the floor from his stab wound where the knife is still embedded, and from his lips where it continually bubbles. He sort of twitches on the floor, but that's all he seems capable of doing. He's beyond even screaming at this point.


The stabbing of the knife into Colin's chest was certainly unexpected, and the ghostly sound and visual effects shatter on the impact. Joining Colin's screech is an unearthly howl of agony before it too fades into nothing. That leaves Coel to get splattered by the first spray of blood from the sucking chest wound Colin inflicted on hiself, even as he falls over onto the floor on his back. While it is entirely possible that Coel's medical training can help, even he is quickly able to realize that such an injury is going to require far better training than he has, or supernatural regeneration and some time. Given Colin's status, perhaps it will be time.


Moments later, the chill in the air starts to fade back to the summery temperatures that are usually in that area.


Coel recalls the lessons with Professor Bryne on a stab wound. Evaluating the wounds. Weighing out the pros of cons of moving the injured. The supernatural benefits of regeneration.


When it becomes apparent that Colin is in no shape to move he makes the call, reaching for the knife to quickly remove it from the man's chest as gingerly as his trembling hands may. Coel drops the blade away and then moves to press the cloth of Colin's own shirt into the wound. His other hand moving to the man's head to lift it and he mutters out a concerned, "Fuck I can't.." and growls out a pitiful noise. The little moment of hesitation fades and he does his best to lift the light-weight Colin up if he could. To Blackfield they go! Hopefully.


Coel thinks; "He can heal it but fuck.. he needs to be able to breath. He won't heal up in seven minutes.. he'll die before then."


Colin is indeed much, much lighter than he should be. For once, his slender build is a blessing.


And so, the encounter with Agnes's ex lover ends, for now. Coel carries Colin out to head to the clinic to get patched up from the self-inflicted wound, but at least Coel isn't dead as the visitor seemed to want. Nothing really stops them from getting to the clinic, but what happens from there is a story for another time...