sad space dad had a bad (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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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
Why? You didn't do anything to me.
[Keith knew that whatever it was that had possessed him had nothing to do with Shiro. And, according to some others, it wasn't even a full on beastmode from corruption. It had just been... A Thing. Like when the mirrors happened.]
no subject
I didn't.
[He didn't do anything. He did nothing. He let himself become a monster while Keith was in danger. Let himself slide into Beasthood while his brother needed him. While he could have helped.]
[More reason he can't look Keith in the eye right now.]
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Shiro?
[Was he... disappointed? Keith mentally flinched. That was it, wasn't it? Shiro finally just hit the limit on what he could tolerate, and this pushed him over the edge. Keith had let himself get possessed by whatever it was... again... and Shiro was just tired of it happening... tired of Keith getting into trouble.]
I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't've let it happen.
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[Not for this. Absolutely not for this. He swallows, heavily, looking up at Keith, finally. The circles under his eyes look deeper, at this angle. The lines of his face harsher, cheeks more hollowed out.]
[it should have been me]
I let you down. Again... I...
I'm sorry.
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No... no, it wasn't... I got myself in trouble. [AGAIN] This wasn't on you.
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I should have been there.
[How many more times is he going to have to say that? How many more times is he going to have to admit to what he's done? Or, rather, hasn't done. Because, how many more times is he going to relive that moment, standing at the edge of the Pit. Staring down.]
[Knowing he should have been down there with them all. But he was too weak. He was too powerless. All he could do was stand there and watch and hold a stupid rope while they suffered, while they died - ]
[it should have been me]
[It almost comes out. He almost says it. But his throat closes up. Rationality telling him it's different this time. This isn't the Pit, this isn't even Deerington anymore. But how many more times.]
[i̵̱̓t̸̛̟ ̵̨͊s̶͕̐ḩ̶̆o̷̬̐ù̸ͅl̶͓̈́d̷̜̏ ̴͈͝ḩ̶́a̷̤͠v̷̦͠e̸͖̋ ̸̦̃b̵̘͠e̶͓͋e̸̪̔n̸̡͊ ̶̮̈́m̴̛̫ḙ̷̽]
... I'm - supposed to be there. When you need me. And I wasn't.
no subject
It isn't on you to keep having to bail me out all the time.
[Okay, so... when Shiro hadn't been there at the Garrison, Keith got kicked out. But he fully acknowledged his own role in that. The fact that had he kept burdening Shiro by getting into trouble weighed on him.]
I just need to stop getting into trouble. It was my fault, and I can't keep expecting other people to get me out of it.
no subject
That's not it. I - [Something damp is on his face. He doesn't lift his head to try and clear his eyes.] - we're a team. We're family. That's - that's what you do.
And I ... haven't.
no subject
[He sighed and finally came closer, gingerly sitting on the bed.]
I know a lot of people are gone from here now. [Losing people sucks. Keith's very familiar with that feeling.] And that's hard to think about and deal with. You weren't in a good place. I should have been more careful on my own. It just made things worse for you. And I'm sorry.
no subject
[Being on the beach, explaining the world, those don't matter in the face of the mistake. His mistake. Of what he'd failed to do. Why does no one ever understand that? Why does everyone keep excusing his failures like this?]
I should have - you needed me. But I was just - I just stood there. I couldn't go down there.
[Shiro that... isn't what happened here. It's not what happened in Trench. It's the Pit. It's the echoing emptiness underneath his feet, the gaping hole in the road reaching up to pull everyone down, to drown the people he cares about. He can hear it. He swears he can ear it in his ears. The dull, hollow screams and the roar of hollow space - the roar of a beast.]
[Keith's apologizing again. He wants to tell him not to. Wants to tell him he's done nothing wrong.]
It - should have been me...
no subject
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[Years ago. It had been years ago. And it was still fresh and harsh. When everything went wrong. He hadn't been there - he hadn't been down there with them. And everything fell apart.]
[Shiro lost Allura.]
[Keith woke up screaming.]
[Lance never the same.]
[He hadn't been there. They were supposed to be a team, and he'd failed and everything unraveled. He can't look at him. He can't look at Keith's face and see the person he was supposed to support, the person he's supposed to be there for - and know he'd lost again. He - it should have been me. His hands clench in the sheets.]
I'm sorry.
no subject
No one had told him about a 'pit'. At least, not that he could remember right now, but he didn't really trust his memory. A lot of things since arriving were kind of fuzzy between getting possessed and being mind controlled and a few other things. He frowned in concern.]
What do you mean? What's 'the Pit'?
no subject
[It's the contact that does it. His head jerks up, staring at Keith like he's seen a ghost. Words catching in his throat. They don't come out for a while, leaving him staring. Breathing hard.]
[No, the details don't match up. This isn't... Deerington. It's not Deerington anymore. But his mistakes are still here. They're still chasing him. He's still letting his friends, his family, his team down.]
... was in Deerington. It's not... here. Is it?
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I ... I'm sorry, I don't - I don't know why I thought...
[Except he does. That was the first death, wasn't it? The first time when things all started to fall apart. But - no. He won't put that on Keith so soon after his ordeal.]
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[And ... slowly, he starts talking. It's monotone, halting. Like he's reciting from a mission brief gone wrong. But at least he's talking.]
A hole opened up. In front of the hospital in Deerington. People started getting sick - the flu, but worse. There were things... down there. In the hole. In the Pit. But we thought it might lead out of town.
I couldn't - I couldn't go. Too sick, again. All of you went down there.
You... Allura. You didn't. Come back.
no subject
I'm here now. And that wasn't your fault. You didn't get sick on purpose.
no subject
[If his body hadn't let him down, again. Then he wouldn't have let them all down, in turn.]
Yeah.
[But he doesn't sound convinced.]
no subject
You can't control getting sick, Shiro. [Haha, look at this hypocrite. Hi, pot. Meet kettle.] If you can't control it, then it's not your fault. Okay?
[If only Keith could take his own advice.]
no subject
[And yet? Shiro laughs. But it's a bitter sort of sound. Yeah. He knows all about that - you can't control getting sick. Was that part of the original problem? Maybe. Did recognizing it help? No, not really. But then he hangs his head. Takes a slow, ragged breath.]
Sorry, I - I didn't mean to make this - about what happened before.
no subject
Hey. You're my brother. I'm here for you as best I can be. If you need to talk about what happened before, then I'll listen.
[He hated Shiro holding back. This had been a thing through their entire relationship, Shiro always trying to prevent Keith from worrying about him. Was it because he understood how scared Keith was of losing people after being essentially orphaned as a young kid? Keith wasn't sure. But he didn't want to be protected like that. He wanted Shiro to feel like he could talk to him.]
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[He does. He logically knows that. He knows the people around him are there for him, that they want to help. But the real problem is him. Is reaching out. It's not them. It's not their fault he can't do it.]
... I know you will. I know all of you will.
[But I can't do it.]
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Yeah.
[He took a long breath in, and then let it out quietly.]
We all will.
[He looked down at the floor, going quiet.]
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good place to call it?