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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!))
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.