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deercountry2022-07-10 04:24 pm
shiro2hero) wrote in deercountry2022-07-10 04:24 pm
Entry tags:
i'm gonna leave my body ; i'm gonna lose my mind
Who: Shiro & YOU [open]
What: When the Beasthood hits like a truck.
When: July
Where: Throughout Trench
Content Warnings: property damage, grief, self-worth problems, to be updated as needed
BEFORE ;; The House
He's remade this cup of tea more times than he wants to admit. More times than he should have had to. He knows the motions. He knows exactly what to do. But it never seems to come together. He's not sure how or why. The water heats. The bag steeps. But it's wrong. It's not coming out like it's supposed to.
It's just wrong.
It's wrong, he's wrong, the hole in his chest is wrong, there's silence where there should be bubbling warmth there should be shoulders to lean on there are no more containers in the fridge that smell like home he can't stop thinking it should have been different, it was supposed to be different, he should have been able to change things to stop things it should be fine, he should be fine he has to be fine.
I'm fine.
Yet again, he throws the wasted tea into the sink. It's stained brown by now with the sheer volume of discarded liquid. His hands shake. The right one hurts and he can't figure out why. It feels like something is disconnected under the metallic layer, sparking painfully with every motion. He should ask Hunk - no ask Varian no ask Chloe no ask -
- who is gone.
Pain writhes down his back. Warring with the sudden, nauseating rush of guilt. Because he wasn't strong enough, he wasn't good enough, he'd promised and they were all gone. All he can do is clamp down on the feelings, try to block the mental connection from being flooded with his own guilt, his own doubt. The aching, anxious grief threatening to choke him where he stands at the kitchen sink. His eyes burn, and he refuses to blink, lest the tears boil over.
I̸̙͠'̴̓͜m̸̨͒ ̶̨̑f̷̠͝i̶͓̚n̷̳̏e̵͖̐ I̸̙͠'̴̓͜m̸̨͒ ̶̨̑f̷̠͝i̶͓̚n̷̳̏e̵͖̐ I̸̙͠'̴̓͜m̸̨͒ ̶̨̑f̷̠͝i̶͓̚n̷̳̏e̵͖̐ I̸̙͠'̴̓͜m̸̨͒ ̶̨̑f̷̠͝i̶͓̚n̷̳̏e̵͖̐
He has to be fine.
The ocean roars in his ears.
He starts the tea again. Ignoring the raging ache in his hands, the tremble in his arms, or the slithering feeling of something oozing down his skin.
I̴̳̹͚͝'̶̡̤͂̿̎̅m̵̜͒͑ͅ ̸̰̪͉͕̀f̴̣̄i̴͚̽̎̍n̵̨͚̾̓ë̸͙̼́̽̚͝
All he hears is the sea.
DURING ;; The Streets
The sun is a deadly laser. It's high in the sky, high noon. Because of course it is. There are no clouds to be seen. But that hardly matters - a cloud of dust rises instead. Or maybe it's smoke. From this distance, it's hard to tell. The closer you get, the more apparent the source becomes. Especially when you see the Trenchies running from it.
From him.
Oh, it looks like Shiro. If all the color fully drained from his body. If the scars coating his skin turned to thick tar, and his eyes glazed to empty, glowing white. Something flickers around him, like a camera glitch. A dark outline, a shadow, the after-image of a bright flash. It moves, and Shiro moves in an answering echo. Reaching a hand into a pile of rubble - his right hand - letting it catch and burn with white flames.
It - he? - turns, then, head lolling to one side on its neck. Its face is utterly blank, expressionless. But the flickering, the blinking, jittery shape around it just smiles. An expression with far too many teeth. It speaks, and it speaks with the cadence of mimicry. Of a beast not understanding human words, human vocal chords.
" i̴͖̓͑͌͐̏'̵̰̰̗̂̌͐̊ṃ̶̳̠̈̆̋̆̋̕m̸̨̝̥͎̯̚m̵̺̒͑ͅ ̴̧͖͔̟͂̐F̴̦̹͈̲̊̄̈́Í̴̹͒̃̔̇n̸̦̅̌͘e̸̜̮͋̂͑̃͝.̶̡̢̘̠͈̜̽͐͘ "
That's it. That's all the warning. Before the Beast launches itself forward at nearby bystanders. Be they Trenchies, Hunters, or Sleepers.
It doesn't make a difference anymore. Nothing matters anymore.
DURING ;; The Shore
Ironically, the Beast's ultimate destination appears to be the Shore. The beach. The ocean. Where it continues to mutter and ramble to itself, pacing up and down the waterline. Occasionally, it will pick up a squid, examine it, and then hurl the creature back into the surf.
" Ń̵̛̪̍̄̈̈́Ö̷̙̦̲͈̜͔́T̴̮͍͕͚͑̎̄ ̴̢͈̻̙̟́̂͜g̶̢̼̘̃̇ọ̵͛͑̀͗ö̶̠́d̷͈̜̝̪̞̋̓ͅ ̸̰͙͋̒͛̚E̵̢̼̰͂N̵͚̦͉̝̿̆̈́́̌ȏ̸̡̮̖͖̤̠͌́̈́̀̌ȕ̶̱̗͛́̇̓̀g̵̘̪̪͍̑́h̴͓̰̣̤̣́̐̈́̂̕ "
At some points, it starts to race forward into the water, stopping when it gets knee-deep. Then it races back to the shore, almost scuttling. The black shadowy image around it snarling. Pulled back onto the sand by something it can't name, something it can't understand.
Whenever that happens, the Beast grabs rocks, or shells, or any kind of beach debris, hurling it into the ocean, angrily. Disrupting the Beast will cause it to turn that anger on any intruder. Anyone - friend, foe, new arrival, it doesn't matter. There's anger here, and it wishes to burn.
((ooc: Plotting comment is here, cure will be handled by Min-Gi, but all else welcome!))
What: When the Beasthood hits like a truck.
When: July
Where: Throughout Trench
Content Warnings: property damage, grief, self-worth problems, to be updated as needed
BEFORE ;; The House
He's remade this cup of tea more times than he wants to admit. More times than he should have had to. He knows the motions. He knows exactly what to do. But it never seems to come together. He's not sure how or why. The water heats. The bag steeps. But it's wrong. It's not coming out like it's supposed to.
It's just wrong.
It's wrong, he's wrong, the hole in his chest is wrong, there's silence where there should be bubbling warmth there should be shoulders to lean on there are no more containers in the fridge that smell like home he can't stop thinking it should have been different, it was supposed to be different, he should have been able to change things to stop things it should be fine, he should be fine he has to be fine.
I'm fine.
Yet again, he throws the wasted tea into the sink. It's stained brown by now with the sheer volume of discarded liquid. His hands shake. The right one hurts and he can't figure out why. It feels like something is disconnected under the metallic layer, sparking painfully with every motion. He should ask Hunk - no ask Varian no ask Chloe no ask -
- who is gone.
Pain writhes down his back. Warring with the sudden, nauseating rush of guilt. Because he wasn't strong enough, he wasn't good enough, he'd promised and they were all gone. All he can do is clamp down on the feelings, try to block the mental connection from being flooded with his own guilt, his own doubt. The aching, anxious grief threatening to choke him where he stands at the kitchen sink. His eyes burn, and he refuses to blink, lest the tears boil over.
I̸̙͠'̴̓͜m̸̨͒ ̶̨̑f̷̠͝i̶͓̚n̷̳̏e̵͖̐ I̸̙͠'̴̓͜m̸̨͒ ̶̨̑f̷̠͝i̶͓̚n̷̳̏e̵͖̐ I̸̙͠'̴̓͜m̸̨͒ ̶̨̑f̷̠͝i̶͓̚n̷̳̏e̵͖̐ I̸̙͠'̴̓͜m̸̨͒ ̶̨̑f̷̠͝i̶͓̚n̷̳̏e̵͖̐
He has to be fine.
The ocean roars in his ears.
He starts the tea again. Ignoring the raging ache in his hands, the tremble in his arms, or the slithering feeling of something oozing down his skin.
I̴̳̹͚͝'̶̡̤͂̿̎̅m̵̜͒͑ͅ ̸̰̪͉͕̀f̴̣̄i̴͚̽̎̍n̵̨͚̾̓ë̸͙̼́̽̚͝
All he hears is the sea.
DURING ;; The Streets
The sun is a deadly laser. It's high in the sky, high noon. Because of course it is. There are no clouds to be seen. But that hardly matters - a cloud of dust rises instead. Or maybe it's smoke. From this distance, it's hard to tell. The closer you get, the more apparent the source becomes. Especially when you see the Trenchies running from it.
From him.
Oh, it looks like Shiro. If all the color fully drained from his body. If the scars coating his skin turned to thick tar, and his eyes glazed to empty, glowing white. Something flickers around him, like a camera glitch. A dark outline, a shadow, the after-image of a bright flash. It moves, and Shiro moves in an answering echo. Reaching a hand into a pile of rubble - his right hand - letting it catch and burn with white flames.
It - he? - turns, then, head lolling to one side on its neck. Its face is utterly blank, expressionless. But the flickering, the blinking, jittery shape around it just smiles. An expression with far too many teeth. It speaks, and it speaks with the cadence of mimicry. Of a beast not understanding human words, human vocal chords.
" i̴͖̓͑͌͐̏'̵̰̰̗̂̌͐̊ṃ̶̳̠̈̆̋̆̋̕m̸̨̝̥͎̯̚m̵̺̒͑ͅ ̴̧͖͔̟͂̐F̴̦̹͈̲̊̄̈́Í̴̹͒̃̔̇n̸̦̅̌͘e̸̜̮͋̂͑̃͝.̶̡̢̘̠͈̜̽͐͘ "
That's it. That's all the warning. Before the Beast launches itself forward at nearby bystanders. Be they Trenchies, Hunters, or Sleepers.
It doesn't make a difference anymore. Nothing matters anymore.
DURING ;; The Shore
Ironically, the Beast's ultimate destination appears to be the Shore. The beach. The ocean. Where it continues to mutter and ramble to itself, pacing up and down the waterline. Occasionally, it will pick up a squid, examine it, and then hurl the creature back into the surf.
" Ń̵̛̪̍̄̈̈́Ö̷̙̦̲͈̜͔́T̴̮͍͕͚͑̎̄ ̴̢͈̻̙̟́̂͜g̶̢̼̘̃̇ọ̵͛͑̀͗ö̶̠́d̷͈̜̝̪̞̋̓ͅ ̸̰͙͋̒͛̚E̵̢̼̰͂N̵͚̦͉̝̿̆̈́́̌ȏ̸̡̮̖͖̤̠͌́̈́̀̌ȕ̶̱̗͛́̇̓̀g̵̘̪̪͍̑́h̴͓̰̣̤̣́̐̈́̂̕ "
At some points, it starts to race forward into the water, stopping when it gets knee-deep. Then it races back to the shore, almost scuttling. The black shadowy image around it snarling. Pulled back onto the sand by something it can't name, something it can't understand.
Whenever that happens, the Beast grabs rocks, or shells, or any kind of beach debris, hurling it into the ocean, angrily. Disrupting the Beast will cause it to turn that anger on any intruder. Anyone - friend, foe, new arrival, it doesn't matter. There's anger here, and it wishes to burn.
((ooc: Plotting comment is here, cure will be handled by Min-Gi, but all else welcome!))
> ANGE
Shiro had kept meaning to visit there more often. Always meant to. But never really got around to it. Things came up. People needed him. He spent more time at Koz's. Just like life, in any sort of world - you put things off, other things happen, you put it off again.
This... definitely was not how he meant to visit said Archives. If this could even be considered Shiro by this point. It's the Beast, instead. Stalking through the streets, flinging objects, or Trenchies, aside. Out of his way. This creature, this Beast, has a mission. Do what Shiro could not. Would not.
Unfortunately for anyone in the area, its mission right now is arrival at the Archives. It won't be allowed inside, but it doesn't care. It just has to get there.
"P̸̜̓̍a̵͔̅̆ţ̷́̔í̶͍̭̕e̵͎͚̔n̶̡̤̊͂c̶̢͝e̵̺̫͑ ̵̹͐.̷͍͕̓.̶̦̽͋͜.̶̧̣̽ ̶̟̚á̸͈̣̅n̴̨̛͓d̷̞̭̉ ̵͉̥͠F̶̧̜̍́O̷̮̓̆͜C̸̠̱̊U̷̹̗͆Ś̶̨͉́!"
no subject
.. until she suddenly hears something strange, that is.
She mentally curses herself for jinxing it. Surely the thought that she got through this alright must have done it. Ange turns her head to look at the source of the sound, rather than actually heading inside.
That's the moment she freezes up. Because the person - no, the thing - moving down the street there is definitely Shiro, but at the same time also definitely not. It's like some sort of husk, like everything that makes Shiro Shiro left this person, leaving behind a dark after image, a shadow. Ange has seen a lot of beasts, but it's not often that she has witnessed a form that still looks so much like the person she knows.
Turning away from the doors to the Archives, Ange instead looks over at the approaching being.
"Shiro..!"
Does she know calling out to it maybe isn't the best idea? Sure. But if Shiro turned into this, then.. she can't just ignore that, right? She feels like she at least managed to somewhat get through to Orpheus when he was in his beast form, even if she didn't manage to turn him all the way back. Maybe she can do something here too.
no subject
And it recognizes Ange.
The way it moves is reminiscent of a stuttering video. It jerks and lunges, starting and stopping and shaking. But every single little motion is fast. A high speed playback as it charges at her. This face is familiar. It knows her. It remembers what she can do. Speed is necessary - it has to overwhelm her if it wants any chance of the upper hand.
So it lunges.
It makes to grab Ange.
no subject
But really, she has no time for that. This decision is way too complicated to decide on so quickly. After all, either she vanishes herself into a cloud of golden butterflies and leaves this beastly version of Shiro to rampage by itself, or she allows it to approach her, risking getting hurt herself.
Neither of them feel like the right option here. And because Ange can't choose between them so quickly, it's much too late to do anything anymore. This beast version of Shiro is so fast, and he's already reached her before she's been able to do a single thing but stare at his current form in horror.
no subject
"y̷̗͋͐ö̸̜́Ǔ̶̬̝'̷͔͆L̸̢͛L̶͕̐ ̵͈̐͜b̵̼͑e̸̳̕e̸̼͑̍ȅ̷̲ ̶̧̣͐G̸̘͛́R̶͕̐̆E̶͕̮͗ȧ̴̖̗t̴̥̆..." it hisses. Around its head flickers images of other faces. Leering, snarling, staring in horror. All of the above. At once.
And then it reaches for her. With its left hand, the fingers curled as if they were claws.
no subject
That tone in the beast's voice, so ominous. At least he can still talk, but on the other hand, what good is that when it sounds nothing like the warm and caring Shiro she knows?
"Shiro!" Ange says, her tone sharp, but at the same time desperate. Like she's trying to appeal to something she still hopes is somewhere deep in there. Her hands glow golden with magic, but she doesn't cast anything just yet. "Snap out of it! This isn't you..!"
Maybe she's too weak. The idea of hitting Shiro with anything, even in this form, makes her stomach turn. It feels wrong.
Instead she tries to get away. It's hard, since she's basically stuck between Shiro and the wall at this point, but it doesn't feel right either to just stand there and see what that hand is about to do. When it might harm her.
So she tries to move in the opposite direction, trying to slip out from her precarious position, moving away from the hand as well as she can - though it might mean little when Ange is only human, no match for the speed of a beast.
no subject
The glow of her hands is another story.
It recoils from the light, briefly, snarling and babbling some sort of garbled nonsense. The words tripping and warping all around themselves. Angry. Just angry. As if Ange has done something truly offensive by bringing her magic to bear. But maybe there is still something of Shiro left in the Beast, because the metal hand doesn't move from where it's buried in the wall.
His left hand, though, that lunges for her. To grasp her by the arm, by the shirt collar. Anything it can reach. Anything it can wrap its hand around and haul. To drag her away.
no subject
She knows she could just teleport away, but even if she'd teleport out of his grip and reappear a slight distance away, it'd most likely only anger him more. It might make him attack her, rather than just grab her like this.
If he tries to go for some deadly attack, she'll teleport away, she tells herself. It's not like she isn't working on sheer adrenaline here, after all. Ange can hear her heart pounding all the way up in her ears, her gaze not leaving this beastly version of Shiro for a moment. She can't risk it.
"What are you doing?!" Ange says, not trying to move this time. Don't provoke it, she thinks. De-escalation has been key before in these sorts of situations, which is why she's attempting that now, even though it doesn't seem very succesful so far. "What.. What do you want?"
Why is this version of Shiro grabbing onto her like this? If he wanted to attack her, then he would have, rather than attacking the wall behind her.
But even though Ange can figure out that much, she can't quite figure out what it might want from her instead.
no subject
And hold on. Its grip is like a cuff, like a manacle, despite it being made of flesh and blood. For a long, too long, of a moment, it stares at her. Those pale, empty eyes locked on her with no sign of anything - no recognition. No sign of Shiro. It seems to be content to just stare for a while. Studying.
Maybe it would have stayed like that for longer. Maybe nothing would have happened at all. Except for the figures gathering at the edges of the chaos. Armed figures. The kind who typically hunt beasts. The creature's head jerks around, toward them, and its lips peel back from those too-sharp teeth.
Whatever it was thinking, the Hunters have cut it short.
The hand on Ange's arm holds tighter for a second, and then, without warning, proceeds to haul her up over its shoulders. It doesn't wait for her to be secured, or settled. It just plain bolts with that same unnatural speed.
no subject
It's the same here with Shiro. The beastly husk of Shiro isn't attacking her, but she can't be sure of what it does want. Why is it staring at her like this? If it wanted to kill her, surely it would've done so already. There's still a tenseness in the air while she's being stared at, since Ange is well aware her life could be snuffed out any moment now..
.. except then something perhaps much wilder happens, because Ange didn't expect it. She shrieks as she's suddenly hauled right over that shoulder. It's not even unfamiliar since Amakusa definitely did this at least once or twice back home, but Ange didn't see it coming in this moment. Rather than the beast taking off at the sight of hunters, it's.. taking her along?
To where? And why?
Ange doesn't even have to time to talk. She scrambles to try and secure herself, trying to make sure that she won't just straight up drop off Shiro mid-run. She doesn't want to know how badly that would injure her when the beast is moving at these sorts of speeds, after all. Ange just tries her best to hold on to anything she can reach, clinging for dear life.
no subject
And it needs to get familiar faces away from Danger.
It's holding her tightly. Clasping her to its shoulder. Under the Beast's shirt, within its skin, something writhes, twists. Something is squirming about as if it were alive. A flicker from the shirt collar - it's the dark, black scars covering his body. Shiro was scarred before, but now, they've transformed into something horrific.
As it sprints through the woods, the trees, they claw at the Beast, who doesn't even slow down. It doesn't blink. The cuts in its flesh scab and scar over almost immediately. Even as it comes up on a cluster of gnarled trees, it rips them open. Rips a hole in the cluster, large enough to thrust someone inside - thrust Ange inside. A natural-made cage to hold someone.
no subject
But when she sees the being that used to be Shiro rip at those trees, she knows what it's trying to do instead. Even though that's also weird. Why would it want to lock her up here? Thankfully Ange realises in the middle of her worrying that she should at least be able to turn into butterflies and just leave that prison of trees whenever she wants to, which makes it less of a problem, but it still makes it hard to understand what the beast is doing.
If it's not putting her in there to hurt her, then why--
She'd love to get an answer to that, but she figures that she won't, not when the beast has such little ability to communciate. Instead she focuses on something else, hoping that it will somehow get through to the being while it still seems busy ripping that hole open, the trees crunching and cracking under his power.
"Shiro, you're hurting yourself!"
Even though his wounds are healing, Ange isn't too sure how it's affecting him. Can he feel the pain? Will this come back to him later, when - god, if has to be a when, something about the idea of Shiro staying like this forever makes Ange's heart hurt so much - he turns back to normal? And what is that thing on his back..
"You hear me? You have to--" She groans, his grip still uncomfortable with its strength. "You have to stop! I don't want you to get hurt!"
no subject
The loss will kill it.
The grief will kill it.
But if it locks them away, shuts them away, then those feelings will not touch it. And Ange is familiar. So Ange is a target.
The Beast makes to swing her down from its shoulders, to shove her into the makeshift cage. It uses its left hand, the real one, because the right is too busy glowing with that same, painfully bright light. The kind of light held over interrogations. Over bodies in autopsy. Clinical, sharp, stabbing.
"G̴̟̿o̸͓̎," it rasps, the words clattering around between its teeth. It makes to thrust her into the tree-cage. "B̷̪͑e̵̡̓e̷̹̔e̵͖̿e̵͕̔ ̶̤̈́Ḡ̶̱Ṙ̵̤R̵̳̀É̴͙à̵̞t̷̪̃."
no subject
(And sure, she'd rather not get hurt either, but that's honestly a secondary concern compared to that.)
Which means Ange is shoved right into the circle of trees. The motion is rough enough that she lands on her knees in there, but thankfully not violent enough for her to actually get hurt. She's not injured, just.. stuck.
She tries to climb onto her feet. At least she still has enough space left to move, she thinks. She tries to look at the beast through the trees surrounding her.
"I don't understand you!" She pleads.
Maybe this is all the beast is capable of. Random words and phrases, in that odd, odd voice, if it can be called a voice at all. It means that she's probably a fool for pleading like this in the first place, but she at least has to try.
"You have to communicate with me, come on..! You have to return to yourself, or-- or you'll get hurt even worse! The hunters will get you!"
no subject
There. It thinks the job is done. It thinks there's no way she could escape. That she could return to the sea.
It steps back. It stares at her in utter silence. Not even seeming to breathe. Her pleas literally seeming to fall on deaf ears. Until she mentions Hunters. Then, it snarls. It paces, like the Beast is the one caged, instead of Ange. Only to snap its head around and stare at her again.
"I̸̼̅I̸̡̿I̸̥̓i̶̫͝ỉ̷̹ĭ̵̥I̴̝̔'̵̙̕m̶̯̅m̷̠͝m̷̨̾ ̸͕̈́F̷̝̀ ̶̠̅Ĩ̷͈ ̵̻̍N̸͎̍ ̷̤̃É̷̳!"
no subject
(Then again - it's what Shiro would have said here too, even if he hasn't been lost to the beast, right?)
"Are you?" Ange asks.
It comes out so instinctively that she doesn't realise until the words have left her that it could sound like a challenge, and the last thing she wants to do is provoke the beast after all. She can save herself from this, but she can't save herself from this being throwing her around like a ragdoll, as it easily could.
".. I'm just worried about you. I only.. don't want you to get hurt."
For how hard it usually is for Ange to express those feelings, as guarded as she is, they come out now so easily. Maybe it's because it's just them, or because Shiro isn't in his right mind, or because the feelings are so strong in this moment that they can't help but seep out in her words, in her pleading stare.
He probably won't hear her, or at least not properly understand her, but she can't help stop the words from flowing out anyway.
"I'd miss you, Shiro." Ange can feel herself choking up a little, but she swallows thickly, doing her best to speak on despite the emotion. "I already miss you.."
no subject
"Į̷̓i̸̘̊i̸̡̓i̶̛̥Ï̷̼Í̸̢i̷̘͑ĭ̸̦I̴͖̽'̶̺̊m̶̯͆m̸͔̌m̴͓̏m̴̞̐ ̴̝͑F̷̳͝F̷͙͑f̷̼͒f̷̟̈́f̵͎̄í̶̘i̷̧̚i̴̢̐i̵͖̿i̴̙̍i̶̥͗n̷͇̈́N̷̛ͅN̷̝̚Ņ̸̿N̴̞̒N̷̫͗n̶̫̑E̴̦̓Ḙ̶̕Ė̶͚e̸̞͝e̷̺̐," it snarls again. It begins to pace. Jerking and twitching around the front of the tree-cage. Repeating itself in a seemingly endless loop. It should move on. It should leave, find the next Familiar to bring here.
But she's still talking. She's saying things it shouldn't care about. It shouldn't be bothered. Not even a little. Shiro would have stopped, and would have reached out to her. Her words would have cracked him. Would have broken him down to tears himself. Maybe he'll recall some of it. Maybe.
The Beast only snarls, again.
It shoves itself away from the makeshift cage. Intending to turn away, to leave her there.
no subject
This time.. there's just nothing.
Maybe she isn't the right person. Or maybe she isn't saying the right thing, but if it's the latter, then Ange has no idea what she can say here.
So she doesn't say anything when the beast turns to leave. Instead she just moves to sit down on the ground. She doesn't want to teleport out of this cage yet until she's sure the beast is gone, since otherwise it'll just get more agitated, but.. in truth, Ange is the one who feels agitated right now, worry about the other swirling around in her heart. Please, she thinks. Let him be okay somehow.
She doesn't say anything though. The girl just sits there, watching the being leave.