deercountry | 12 . july catch-all

Edited 2022-07-06 18:21 (UTC)

Edited 2022-07-06 22:28 (UTC)

Edited 2022-07-06 18:23 (UTC)

Edited 2022-07-06 18:24 (UTC)

[the amaranth had intended to be here sooner, but it had run into unexpected complications. it doesn't know, not truly, where its target will be, so all it does is chase the last thing it remembers—the blood, the bodies on the sand after the shipwreck. it's a guess. it assumes it's going to be a good one.]

[it swoops in low to the ground, all black and bloodied wings, dripping red oil in a thin trail behind it. it holds the hilt of a vileblood-coated sword in its talons ready to strike, and as it approaches, it screams out something wretched. high-pitched and beastly, but with the familiar hint of smoke fraying the edge of the cry. both its eyes are as soulless as its prey. though its body has been transformed, its soul energy, it might suspect were it aware of that kind of thing, remains the same. there is only one person this could be.]

[which could only be a meaningful distinction if multiple people were making an attempt on john's life.]

[When Maul finds out just what caused Willow to want to kill him and Savage, he's beyond furious. He's been trying to do better for a while now and somewhat succeeding but he thinks even the kindest, gentlest, most understanding people in Trench would understand his need for vengeance right now.

Maul's grown enough emotionally that he's come to the understanding that you can't always blame people even if they do something directly to you because sometimes there's another person behind everything who rightfully deserves that blame. Hence his desire to longer have vengeance on Obi-Wan and instead accepting Palpatine was the true culprit. While this is good news for Willow and Faith, this is unfortunately bad news for the Emperor. Maul figures to cut straight through all the bullshit and go hit the source of everything that's recently occurred in Trench.

So he goes about gathering up the necessary supplies that one would use. He knows this fellow pissed off Mariana good and proper so he figures getting on her turf down by the beach might give him an advantage if she decides to help out, especially since she's Maul's patron Pthumerian and all. Does that mean he trusts her in the slightest? Nope. But he figures between her and the Reckoning, one of the major Pthumerians in town is bound to feel sympathetic towards the burning rage he feels at the moment.

As for John himself, Maul simply appears behind him one moment in the middle of the day as if he'd just appeared from thin air, all of his skills involving stealth put on display. He shoves an unlit lightsaber hilt into the man's back.]

You are coming with me. [Maul growls out in a soft voice filled entire with anger and hate.] If you refuse, I'll take off an ear, then a hand, and keep working my way down from there. Understand?

[ It is, admittedly, an impressive display. John has been having a month; John has been having a time of it. At this point, getting jabbed in the back with a lightsaber just registers as This may as well happen. ]

Buy a guy a drink first. [ But he splays his hands like surrender, like appeasement. ] Alright, easy. I'm listening.

Oh, you're quippy? Good. We'll see how many smart remarks you can make without a tongue.

[Maul snarls out in a very literal manner, the growl of a big cat and a completely inhuman sounds coming out of his throat.]

Start walking. No, not that direction-- [His free right hand roughly grabs John's shoulder and turns him towards the general direction of the beach.] --That way.

[ The growl is also frankly cool as hell. He has to give it to this guy for style.

Anyway: kidnapping God! That's a bold move, and likely to get awkward the longer it goes on. But it's not like he has anything else to do with his afternoon, right? This is, what, vengeance attempt nine or ten? At least the approach is novel. ]

You can at least join me for the walk. It'll be a longer one without decent conversation.

[ This is a very real and genuine threat to make small talk the entire time. Still: he starts moving. ]

[That hand tight on John's shoulder? Suddenly it tightens to the point where Maul's claws puncture his skin. He moves them around a little, knowing the sensation will be painful]

You get to talk when I say you get to talk and not a moment before.

[Maul makes John walk down towards where the edge of the cliffs near to the beach meet the water far below. There's a lot of items scattered around there and it becomes clear this kidnapping wasn't done on a simple whim. Maul may eat, sleep, and breathe revenge but he's not stupid. He'd carefully planned out what he was going to do to this man.

There's all sorts of fun equipment there, the usual display of weapons Maul has like his axepike, a spear, a dagger, and some knives. But it also looks like he raided a hardware store as well considering there are screwdrivers of various sizes, pliers, hammers, nails, wrenches, and.....is that a hacksaw? Yes, yes it is. There's even a few random things that he'd decided to bring at the last moment like some large chunks of wood, various bottles with the Force only knows what kind of mysterious liquids in them, and a large amount of cord.]

[ Absolutely devastating. Huge waste of conversation. John sighs, makes an elaborate gesture of zipping his lips and throwing away the key, and is otherwise quiet on the walk down to the water. Right now it seems like decent odds he's to be thrown in and sacrificed, which will be interesting enough he'd like to see it play out. Mariana won the first bout, but he can at least learn something on the second.

The claws upon his shoulder tear shirt and skin just as easily as they would on any human, Darkblood glittering on black. John lets it. His blood is everywhere, lately; it's funny. (And never mind that when the claws come away, the skin beneath them is smooth and unmarked again.)

Upon their arrival to the gruesome playground, he gives a low whistle. ]

Quite a setup. Should we talk safewords?

[ Ha ha. ]

[Maul stomps on John's foot like a petulant child as hard as he can once he's got John on the cliff. It would be almost funny if Maul's lower half weren't entirely made of metal. Normally, he holds back when he's in combat with someone because he can shatter an opponent's entire chest with one kick, as an unfortunate Jedi found out to his fatal detriment back in his own galaxy. So that stomp immediately shatters every bone in John's foot like a watermelon hitting the ground after being tossed from the eighth story of an apartment building. Maul leans into it with his full weight, grinding down hard with his prosthetic foot.

His left hand grips John's throat tightly, enough to make it hard to breathe but not so much it'll completely cut off his air. Their faces are very close together now.]

I don't know why you did what you did. And frankly I don't care. All you need to know is that Willow came after me because you decided to be a meddlesome idiot. I wouldn't even care about that, I've made enough enemies in this town that it was bound to come back eventually on me, and I've died before. But what did happen is that my brother died during the battle and I love him more than life itself. That happened all because of you. So I'm going to just start chopping bits off and feeding them to Mariana and see if she likes that.

[When he says these words, the waves crashing on the rocks below seem to increase in intensity for a moment, slamming hard enough into the cliffs to send a decent amount of spray up to mist both men with water. Is that Mariana approving and excited at Maul's words? Or just a coincidence? Hard to say.]

[ The opening move comes sooner than he expects it to, and for that Maul earns his first reaction: John staggers forward with the impact, balance thrown such that he has to catch himself with a hand on Maul's shoulder. His foot bursts and shatters, and his shoe splits around gore. It's ugly. It should have any human screaming, pleading, debilitated.

God's eyes are cold and remote, bare inches from Maul's, and he does not flinch. ]

Interesting story.

[ I love him more than life itself, says Maul, and for a moment John's expression flickers into astonishment. For a moment he is plainly confused. Why would anyone declare his greatest weakness to a man he means to take apart with rusty screws? Either he thinks John poses no threat— which, whew, that would be a take— or that John is an eminently decent guy, a man who wouldn't go after loved ones. And, sure: that's slimy, it's beneath him. It doesn't feel good.

But it's getting kind of wild, how nobody has seen him in his real Old Testament phase.

What John says is, very levelly, with a squeeze to Maul's shoulder: ]

We can see how that goes for you.

[He's tougher than he looks, that's for certain, Maul will give him that. Most people would have been left screaming from something like that happening to their foot. Still, he doesn't seem completely stoic if his reaction to Maul's little monologue is any indication, so he's going to keep at this until he gets some satisfaction out of the process.

He picks up a pair of pliers and flexes them experimentally. Yes, this will do to start. He firmly grabs one of John's hands, clamps them down around his little finger, but rather than simply slicing it off (too quick, Maul's done this enough times before to know this) he pulls on base of the fingerbone until it comes ripping away from the rest of the hand. He examines it for a moment before setting the severed digit off to the side. A nice start to his demented offering to Mariana.]

[ It's odd realise she's been to this house before. It feels like another age, attending a party as a neighbour — invited through Peter to come along to it. But today she's not here on party business, walking from her home through Gaze. She hadn't realised he'd be living here, but at the very least it made him easy to find.

It's all his fault. Mariana may not be her favourite Patron, nor is Luna a Disciple; but she holds the Patrons of the Waking World with a kind of reverence all the same. Moon Presence will always hold her complete respect, and what's happened fills her with a righteous rage. If he would do such a thing to Mariana, would he do something of the sort to Moon Presence if he wanted to get something out of it? The trespass, for the sake of an attempt personal gain, is nigh unforgivable. In part she hopes it to be ignorance. But all the same: Mariana is wounded, angry — and Luna is angry on her behalf. He messed with something he should not, and the Reckoning's sway over the month encourages her to seek payment, punishment.

And perhaps what's worse is Willow's been one of those caught up in it all, one of the people he led on this expedition of his. She's seen for herself the damage done, and she's furious. Willow's dead because of all of this. Death for him won't do any justice, won't make her feel better or change anything. She's not looking to kill him, but Luna does want him punished — mess with Mariana and Willow, she'll mess with him in return.

There are others who live in this house, but she has no interest in dealing with them nor destroying a home to get to who she wants. She stands out on the drive-way, amongst the dead grass and ruined stone — holds herself tightly in her tranquil fury as she moves to draw him out. Her wand to her throat, she utters a soft Sonorus to magically amplify her voice. But even then with the magical boom, her voice is hushed as she calls out to him, eerily calm: ]

Come out, 'Black-Eyed Thing'.

[ So they're getting started, then.

This guy clearly has a technique. That's interesting; it means he's done this before, and takes pride in his work. John's not a big fan. It's a bad look, being an advancing imperial army of necromantic torturers, and so he likes to think his side is better than that. You have to decide upfront you're not really into that kind of thing, when you can peel someone's skin off with half a thought. It's a lot of responsibility.

Maul takes the finger off, and God lets him. He doesn't cry out; he doesn't seem to feel it. He watches his torturer the whole time, and the look on his face is the judgment of something very far from human. ]

You're really making the jokes too easy here, mate.

[ He flexes his ruined hand, and at once it isn't ruined at all: the shimmer of Darkblood drops to the ground like so much dust, and a new finger weaves its way into existence in the span of a breath. John rubs his fingers together as though to test the feeling, then splays them in ta-da. ]

How long is this expected to take? I've been very popular lately, you know.

[ So: this is new.

Not the fact that someone is at his gate, glaring up at his now-empty house, bristling for a fight. Not the fact that it's, apparently, a girl no older than Gideon, wielding only fury and some kind of magic wand. John seems to be unpopular among teens and heroes, this month, and he is really trying to be patient about it. Pyrrha would have his head if he started dropping everybody who talked back to him, and it would be terrible for his already-scuffed reputation.

But the heavy whisper, the magic of it, is something he hasn't yet seen. This could be nothing or it could be another death ray, and there's no way to know but to go out and meet her.

The mansion's great doors open, and out steps a man in simple blacks, his posture relaxed as though this is a social call. ]

Didn't realize I was still accumulating titles. 'His Celestial Kindliness' has a nicer ring, in my opinion.

[ Ah, there he is. Well at least he has the manners to actually come out and face her than hiding in his home. He does really have black eyes, too. Not that she doubted herself; it's just a little odd coming out with words of a person one's never actually met before. ]

Quietus. [ The incantation comes out with much of the same booming whisper, but with that her voice returns to its usual volume. And while she lowers her wand from her throat, she makes no move to put it away — keeps it drawn low. ]

I'm afraid there's no room for niceties, especially not to a self-made god. [ His Celestial Kindliness is that meant to be in jest? She takes a moment, swallowing the urge to just blast him to pieces. ]

It doesn't suit you, either. You've hardly been kind lately, have you?

Now, I would contest that.

[ He rocks on the balls of his feet, as though they really are here to have a pleasant conversation. ]

I'm not picking fights with Sleepers... I'm pulling punches... a bigger mess isn't the goal. [ He tips his head in acknowledgement. ] But, to my enemies? No.

[ John is still doing badly.

He stands on the beach on two human feet, so that's good, but his cheekbones and the lines of his jaw are still the white of exposed bone. His fingers are lined with glossy black chitin. Lenore is away, but his every footprint leaves a shiver of Omen-smoke: she is a simmer moments from boiling over. He wears humanity like a thin veneer, and he does not wear it particularly well.

He knew she'd be showing up sooner or later. Fitting that she catches him out here, right? The shipwreck has cluttered the shore; there are still planks of wood and bits of bone washing up. Their moment at the gunwale has become so much flotsam. ]

Captain.

[ He turns to face the raven. Still he is animated by that horrible frenetic energy; he shifts his weight, drums his fingers, and looks upon her with barely-concealed anguish. ]

Come on. Let's not do this.

[captain. it would laugh if it recognized anything. it can understand the words, yes; it's good at that. it's a very smart beast. and since he asked so nicely—]

[it swoops low and drops the sword from its talons. watches it land point-down in the black sand and color it with a sickening iridescence with each drop of vileblood that pours into the earth. but it's still some distance away, and it's not slowing. it comes in close, talons flared and shimmering in the sunlight, but it would be clear from meters away that it's not coming in low enough to attack yet.]

[from that distance, there is an aura. the beast cannot speak, but it is capable of feelings—as all things with a soul surely must be. bloodlust, yes, that much is clear. the glow of justice barely able to keep shining beneath roiling blackened seafoam named vengeance. and pain, but pain so distant and aimless that it's an afterthought, like it's the last remnant of something that used to be here but is no longer.]

[the beast can also think. and it does, frequently, but only in impulses, in images, in desires. but underneath it all, in the same... projection as its aura, there is a voice breathlessly repeating something like static—noch war ich und war sie doch wir liebten mit liebe die mehr war denn dies—and perhaps it sounds familiar.]

[the raven is taking a long turn around, gliding off to the side, over the ocean. another angle of attack, then. perhaps it was just trying to frighten its prey.]

[ The sword strikes the sand; her talons flare and glint; he doesn't flinch. He stands unarmed and plain, rubbing at the exposed lines of his fingerbones, trying to smooth away the chitin. He looks like a man trying to soothe a headache.

She circles like a vulture coming down upon a kill. She brings that singsong poetry with her, bleeding up in mutters through the air, crowding in on every side of him. Even without some Pthumerian force playing translator, he knows the cadence of it down to his bones: We loved with a love that was more than love... ]

Thank you for putting the sword down, [ he murmurs, low and wry, chewing his lip. He turns to track her movement like he's restless, like he's a flower to the sun. ] Always a good start. Come on, Annabel—

[ Fuck. ]

[ It's a slip. For a moment, John is startled silent; he falters; he is both abruptly vulnerable and somehow very far away. All the while that whispered static rises and falls, rises and falls, like a lullaby. Like waves. ]

You might not be picking fights, but you've definitely cause a great deal of harm to them. [ She knows fine well Willow's been in the state she's been in because of whatever happened on that expedition of his. And what a mess he's made, Willow isn't the only one. Even with the Reckoning's influence, there's been plenty of madness and violent mess come from this. ]

Enemies? And who are they, exactly? [ Oh, no need to answer. She thinks she has the right one for that. ] Perhaps the ones who stand between you and your river?

[ Her eyes narrow slightly. ]

Or what it is that you really want.

[ She beats him to anything he might say. For a moment, the silence hangs ringing between them; his expression has opened to something genuinely startled, then closes again to something guarded and thoughtful. ]

My crew has been chatty with everyone but me, apparently. What's the gossip, then? What do I really want?

12 . july catch-all

(early-month) at bone house.

(early- to mid-month) cws for grief, vengeance, murder.

(mid-month) cws for violence, murder, loss of bodily autonomy.

(mid-month) cws for weaponized intimacy, murder, grief, vengeance.

(late-month) cws for torture, maiming, murder.

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cw: explicit foot trauma

cw: body horror and torture start here, likely for the rest of the thread, and fingore

hello yes the tiny witch is here and she is ANGY

cw: finger gore

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