deercountry | my mast ain't so steady

[ the steam isn't too thick, there aren't any open tears to let them out in full, but it is already very hot. his feathers are fickle and easily pulled from their pores, and once they fall, they too steam— they evaporate and combust from the heat generated, and disappear into thinness that lies of them ever being there in the first place.

within the empty sockets of falco's mask are drooping eyes rolled to expose the whites and fluttering nystagmus when the lower curve of an iris retracts before disappearing. perle zips high and then dives with her loudest chitters. her flight is erratic and keen with acute dips and sudden turns until she's left bouncing on the titan vessel's limply splayed shoulders, and speaks herself— she only ever speaks when she truly needs to. ]

Oh, Paul! Paul, quickly, get him out of there. It's awful, it will be awful. I can't wake him.

[The heat troubles Paul less than heat should, but it's still so much, Perle's panic more than justified. Falco's healing ability had cast off heat like this, when he'd taken that hideous wound on the winter beach, and Paul understands well how fevers kill. Is the principle the same here? Is it something else, a disease of the body from Falco's home, or from this place? Poison, curses, and every other malady under the sun go through his coursing thoughts.

Perle says to get him out of there. She says it will be awful. Salt flakes and lime peels inside his mouth, intuition tracing a cool finger down the back of his neck.]

Tell me how.

[He's already unshouldered his pack and let it fall to the ground. He doesn't touch Falco, doesn't dare, but Sophia operates by different rules. She bounds to his side and swells to the size of a sheep before she leans against him, her ears open and listening for the disrupted rhythms of life inside this ailing body.]

[ beneath layers of heated muscle, sophia will hear it: the amplified battering of the titan’s heart like a snare drum pressed to a megaphone. it is loud, working too hard and too fast for comfort. hidden beneath that orchestra is an even tinier heart, but one that beats the same: arduously and quickly.

perle alters her post and springs up and down upon where the atlas and axis bones of the vertebrae should join. ]

Here. Right here, the nape. One meter down, ten centimeters in width is the vital window. Don’t worry about limbs. Priorities. You’ll need swords, not knives. Things that can take this heat, and don’t dull with ease. And you’ll need plenty more of those.

[ she seems to be tilting her head hastily, back and forth, at his protective gear. oh— she’s exasperated, her beak is even kept apart to breathe through the stress. ]

—I have called his parents. They know the practicalities that should help you all more than I can.

[Perle's instructions provide direction and horror neatly bundled. Sophia hones in on the second heart, using the focus of her Sleeper to winnow away other noise, transmitting the frantic but living pulse to Paul as an anchor. He nods, stiffly, at Perle's orders - he'll follow them.

Parents does snag his attention briefly, but Paul discards his incomprehension in favour of producing his Omni and sending another message containing Perle's requests, this one to the strongest, fastest person he knows. Whoever these 'parents' are, he trusts Perle completely with the care of her Sleeper.]

They'll be here soon.

[It wrecks him not to be able to act yet, not even to reach out and provide the futile comfort of touch. He rocks back on his heels, his hands closing and opening, as they both wait for their reinforcements.]

Does he hear us? Is he awake?

—Barely. He is trying every second. It is an exhausting burden to bear.

[ but removing hope from the situation had never been a part of falco. realism, yes, preparation, even more. she will still relinquish a small truth as she stiffens, feels her wings wanting to contort. she had to, and not falsely— paul needed something, even just a drop of it that could make all the difference for him during the short wait and the rest of the procedure. ]

Perhaps he'll hear something, fleeting.

[ as much as a feverish, comatose state may hear, but just maybe it could cause a stir. the smallest responses, even if he wouldn't be able to rouse completely anyway. ]

[The answer does not bring relief or despair. It reconfigures the proportions of both that already exist, drawn up into a muddied swirl of feeling he holds at arm's length. (He is glad Falco is still there. He is sick at the thought of him being conscious for this. He is icily determined, a lance of resolution poised in his heart.)]

Falco.

[He projects his voice, not knowing if it matters, or if Perle transmits what he says. He instills it with all the assurance he can give, as steady and strong as it was when he shared in Falco's awful memory of loss and gave him a lullaby in return.]

I'm here. You're going to be all right.

[He half-smiles. It's for the best that Falco can't see it, as wanly fractured as it is. The words catch as they come, laden down with their promise to each other.]

Don't go making me look for you.

Got it. Everything will be all right. Do you have a Blood Minister?

[ It's a short reply that masks the worry Midoriya feels as he receives location and instructions. He springs into action. No time to think. Just suit up and go. He's trained for this.

In the meantime, he'll send his Omen to take care of the other half of rescue: reassuring the one(s) in trouble. A ram with curling whorled horns, swelled to the size of a draft horse, thunders across the grass. Half of them is covered in black inky Omen-smoke.

They stop with a gentle patter of hooves despite their size. They slowly lower their head against the titan body someplace out of the way. Their coat is thick, fluffy, and perfect for burying oneself in.

Midoriya's Omen doesn't speak, won't even give their name if they have one, but they are a solid, calm presence. ]

[ when he hears the omni go off, he already knows it's bad news.

similarly, the first time he saw Falco cowering in a cave in titan form, unable to change back, he already knew he was probably going to have to cut him out. he'd avoided bringing it up in front of Falco for the time being, but the longer they kept having to trek out to that cave, the less likely it was becoming that the situation would resolve itself—that Falco would just shift back on his own somehow.

no, they were gonna have to go the messy and painful route, and it was gonna have to be now.

it's a good thing Confetti knows the way, because it's unlikely either of them could pinpoint Falco's new location based only on the chaotic omni footage; they're still relatively new, for one thing, and Falco presumably chose another inconspicuous place to wait out his titan problem, anyway. it also means they waste no time searching for him, so they're able to make it to Falco's side swiftly.

behold: Falco's... uh, parents.

Levi's got as much blood-resistant safety gear as he's been able to get so far: it isn't a lot and it's probably not the highest quality, but as long as it does what it's supposed to do it doesn't matter. Erwin is by his side, as always (though it's really more the other way around). perhaps most notably, though, they sport a matching set of vertical maneuvering gear—titan-killing contraptions, though that certainly isn't the goal this time around. it's a complicated system, but in all likelihood the only thing they'll be needing right now are the blades.

needless to say, Falco's dads really only need to take one look at their very large son to know what has to happen, and how quickly it has to happen. the smaller one blows out a sigh of resignation, rubbing at his face in a way that almost seems anxious. ]

Shit. I didn't wanna have to do this to him, but it looks like we're out of time.

[ this is gonna suck. ]

[ the entire trek to falco is quiet. he doesn't speak, but he doesn't have to. neither of them do. they can feel each other's anxiety hammering in their heads, and it's hard to tell whose is whose anymore. they don't have time to stop and think about it, though. they both know what's happening and what it means.

erwin is similarly kitted up, careful as ever. the collar of his coat is pulled high, but there's a faint mark like fingers splayed across one cheek and the right sleeve is brought up and pinned up at the shoulder to keep it out of the way: there's no arm there and no prosthetic to replace it, at least not yet.

he's got the same equipment and blades sitting at both hips that levi does, though.

when they arrive his eyes dart from figure to figure taking in the whole of the situation. it's keen, knowing in a way it almost shouldn't be, and he seems to come to a decision just as quickly. he doesn't really greet anyone at this point, not really, just terse nods of acknowledgement.

the next time he nods it's different. he does it then jerks his head toward where falco's form is in the same moment that he starts moving closer with long strides. his hand drops to trace the line of the hilt of his blade before clenching and unclenching, one of the few outward signs of his anxiousness. ]

We need to move fast. Now.

[ but levi already knows that, clearly. ]

Not yet.

[Falco's ability to heal is prodigious, but these circumstances make Paul unwilling to trust it alone for Falco's survival. If there is anyone who knows a healer who can be summoned quickly, it will include Midoriya - or, for all Paul knows, these strangers bearing swords count one or both of them as Blood Ministers.

He eyes them at their approach, collecting and sifting through details. There is nothing unusual in their manner, no sign of harm intended beyond that which they have to inflict for Falco's sake, and Perle does not balk at their presence. That's enough for him, under the circumstances.]

You know what you're doing.

[It isn't a question. So these are people at least familiar with Falco's condition. Once again, that's good enough. Fear expedits many alliances.]

I'm Paul. Tell me where we start. I'm a Paleblood, and I can handle heat.

[It throbs in his palms as they speak, the fire stoked by watching Falco burn.]

[ he nods once at Paul; not the best of circumstances for them to meet in, for sure, but shit happens.

shit happens a lot, actually. they're used to it. ]

The fact that you were called here before anyone else tells me everything I need to know.

[ his guess is that Falco trusts this guy more than anyone, and that's good enough for him, at least for now. he looks back toward Falco—or the huge, sizzling bird carcass he's trapped inside of, at least—and frowns. ]

Obviously this is a worst case scenario, but as long as we're careful getting him out he should be okay. Usually titan blood evaporates on its own, but I'm not sure if that means anything here, and if he's vileblood then I guess it doesn't matter.

[ there's a pause, kind of like he's a little hesitant to keep going, but they don't have time to be more delicate about it, and he's terrible at that kind of thing anyway. ]

There might... be some parts missing when he comes out, like a hand or part of a leg or possibly both. We'll do our best, but sometimes shit like that is unavoidable. You probably already know he'll just grow it all back, anyway.

[ cheater. ]

We could probably use your help pulling him out.

[ he turns to quickly head over to where Erwin is, but stops for a second on his way there to glance back over his shoulder. ]

—Oh. I'm Levi.

[ (sorry.) ]

Sent via Omni: I'll get one.

There is a distant boom over the city like a thunderclap.

Sent hands free via Omen a minute later: I'm bringing Gideon-san too.

Midoriya arcs through the sky propelled by kicks strong enough to displace air and propel him. It is still at less of a breakneck speed than he started with. The reason is his passengers: Georg the Blood Minister is safely carried in his arms, and perched on top of the luggage on Midoriya's back is Gideon Nav.

Midoriya's Omen lifts their head in recognition but does not leave their post against Falco's side except to gently butt their head against Paul's arm once. Midoriya's face is pale but resolute. He is in his green jumpsuit, and he introduces himself with his Hero name:

"I'm Deku. This is Georg-sensei, a Blood Minister, and Gideon-san, a friend."

With the efficiency of his rescue training, Midoriya wastes no time opening his canvas bundle. He reveals several blades of varying states of finished--whatever he could hastily get at blacksmiths and enchanters shops that wasn't already spoken for. (This will set him back; he's bad at haggling.) Some don't have their carved or inset decorations yet, but they will serve as blades destined to be melted. Others are finely imbued with coldblood's ice properties to take heat. All are sharp.

"His Omen relayed what you have discussed so far on the way over. Is there anything else?" asks Georg, a thin wrinkled man clutching a case of his supplies. What little remains of his gray hair is standing on end due to his airborne journey. It's at odds with his neat, well-to-do clothing with a Blood Minister badge pinned on it.

[ Gideon nods when Deku introduces her, but otherwise, she's focused on assessing the situation. Falco is definitely worse off from when she saw him last, with those shedding feathers and rolling eyes. He looks nearly like a flesh magician's construct, like this. She can only imagine what he feels like.

Gideon's sword from home isn't especially heat-resistant, but she's brought it along anyway. She sets it aside for now and begins hefting the weapons Deku has assembled one by one, getting a feel for their size, strength and weight. ]

I can take the heat. [ She says, at last. A matter-of-fact statement, one that's not up for discussion. And since Falco is a Vileblood: ] And the poison. Shit like that doesn't kill me, and trust me, I've inhaled my fair share of it.

[ What an excellent way to introduce yourself. She's found a blade that she likes - the largest single-handed sword of the bunch - and is now rolling her shoulders back and stretching a little. ]

Send me in. On your mark.

[ for a moment it looks like erwin is just going to keep going, to get it done as quickly as possible, but he's nothing if not a reasonable man even in his fervor and he stills at the addition of so many people. his initial reaction was for levi and himself to rush in in tandem like usual but the addition of a person immune to poison and heat is something to consider.

he nods, turning back toward the formed group, and addresses them as a whole: ]

One meter and ten centimeters long centered across the nape. As Levi said, limb loss is likely but while it's not ideal it's often unavoidable. The point now is to get him out of there as quickly as possible, so once the incision is made he needs to be pulled out immediately, because the area around the body is going to get worse.

[ he inhales, exhales, then motions toward the blades at his hip. ]

If you need something that will hold up to that, using one of mine will work. If your weapons will hold up themselves though, you're welcome to use them.

[ 'you're' is a general 'you' at this point, but at the moment he's expecting gideon to take up the helm due to her qualifications.

he speaks with a sharp and knowledgeable intensity: he and levi know what they're doing, and they're both used to commanding troops so for him it slips into that state naturally. sorry @ everyone, he's just always like this. ]

[ Paul secures his filtration mask in place over nose and mouth, greeting the new arrivals with a glance instead of words, letting everyone else speak until they're all informed as much as they need to be. He addresses the Blood Minister first, stepping past him to select a Coldblood imbued knife once he recognizes them for what they are. ]

We might need you more for us than him.

[ Georg nods, without raising so much as a single bristling eyebrow. Blood Ministers are used to strange house calls, Paul has observed. That settled, Paul orients back to the men - Levi and the yet unidentified man Paul already marks as a fellow commander - falling as naturally into obedience as they do into issuing orders.

Evidently, the body and everything around it is going to get worse. Paul doesn't know what that means, but he has a few informed guesses, all of them dire. He lets out a slow breath into the protective arc of his mask, shaking the fingers of one hand out at his side as if trying to flick water from them, and shifts from one foot to the other. ]

Once we get started, don't touch me. [ Matter of fact. ] We're ready.

[ His eyes are bright, too much so. He feels it in his veins, in the ley lines of his nerves, and he breathes in deep, sparks stirring. On their marks, like Gideon said, and he is as sure of the rest of their readiness as he is of his own. ]

Midoriya, pale and sweaty, is noticeably frayed, but his hands don't shake. There is no place for fear, doubt, or horror when Falco needs him. He fixes the hard filter mask that usually hangs around his neck to the lower part of his face.

"Sorry I wasn't able to get much heat-resistant gear at short notice, but here. In case anyone needs them, or theirs gets damaged."

He unpacks some welding gloves, masks, and aprons, the sort one would find at a blacksmith's. He takes none for himself. Instead, he stands at a distance and shoots what looks like strings of black energy from his hand to attach to one side of Falco's bird form. He doesn't pull yet.

"I have super strength and this. I can help... pull it open after you make your incisions."

Georg stands well away and opens his medical kit. "If the patient didn't have regenerative abilities..." He gestures as a go-ahead in a routine manner.

It's not instantaneous, but as long as it's just limbs we're talking about, he'll be fine. I've watched it happen.

[ frankly, it's pretty disgusting.

he's already come to terms with the fact that Falco's vileblood means he's not gonna be able to do as much here as he usually would. this becomes a hundred times more important considering one of the blood pacts he made with Erwin lets them feel when the other is in pain; it's easy to brush aside the possibility of getting hurt when it only affects him, but that's not gonna fly anymore.

so while he helps himself to some more of the protective gear, it's mostly just as a precaution in case shit goes south. in the mean time, he returns to his usual spot at Erwin's side. ]

I don't know how much Falco's told you about this stuff, but titan flesh is extremely dense. We use these blades because normal ones will just snap in half. I'm sure the shit you guys have is not exactly "normal," but if they don't work, feel free to use mine as well.

my mast ain't so steady | august catch-all

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mha manga spoilers ~ch. 327

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