Paul Atreides (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
terriblepurpose) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2022-07-30 09:33 pm
terriblepurpose) wrote in deercountry2022-07-30 09:33 pm
[ this is a video call from un: falcogrice, but once it’s open— it isn’t exactly for conversation. the camera angles are chaotic and in nonstop motion, battered by the desperate calls of a tiny, squeaking falcon. the world is being seen through perle’s eyes, landing on and off an uneven golden surface. the blurred peripheries focus enough to relay location: grass. a someways distant barn. a handful of fashionable hens clucking and foraging back and forth with their clutch of equally fashionable chicks. it seems that falco has relocated to safer grounds ever since mariana’s oceanic nightmares began spawning by the beach— he simply didn’t have much time to make it known. in a frenzied, bouncing take-off, the frightened perle manages a better view, steady for only seconds before her landing. the boy’s titan vessel dwarfing a nearby tree, rolled onto his side with jaws completely slacked apart. he’s unresponsive to his omen’s diving and even her pecking against the bone mask. the giant’s frame is giving off wisps of steam like an exhausted machine would. it’s overheating from the inside out.
perle’s cries become more panicked, painful with the occasional contortion onto her back and kicking her orange talons for surface to grasp. she cries and reaches out for desperate help intwined with her shrieks much like a crazed mother trying to get her child out of a burning, crumbled building would. she may not be near the fire— but she is burning like her sleeper. ]
perle’s cries become more panicked, painful with the occasional contortion onto her back and kicking her orange talons for surface to grasp. she cries and reaches out for desperate help intwined with her shrieks much like a crazed mother trying to get her child out of a burning, crumbled building would. she may not be near the fire— but she is burning like her sleeper. ]
Edited 2022-07-31 03:54 (UTC)
[One of the most crucial skills that a young human can learn is not to panic in a crisis. Moments of crisis are a guarantee in life, whatever universe you happen to inhabit, and Paul was instructed in proper behavior at such times at an early age.
Seeing Falco like this, his Omen in terrified riot, Paul has his education tested to the limit. The only way he can proceed is to disconnect from the first shivers of reactive fear, and so his voice remains steady and controlled as he answers Perle's plea.]
We're coming.
[He sends the message to the rest of we, the other members of the House that's taken Falco under its wing that he can reach in time, who also have the knack of handling themselves in an unexpected crisis.
It doesn't take long for him to arrive after that, kitted out in blood-resistant Hunter cloth armor, a filtration mask dangling around his neck. He recognized the terrain, and narrowing down the precise location of the farm with the intermittent flashes of prescience that arc across his eyes was all that he needed after that. He sends that information along too, Sophia firing it off in a burst as they hurry to Falco's side.]
Seeing Falco like this, his Omen in terrified riot, Paul has his education tested to the limit. The only way he can proceed is to disconnect from the first shivers of reactive fear, and so his voice remains steady and controlled as he answers Perle's plea.]
We're coming.
[He sends the message to the rest of we, the other members of the House that's taken Falco under its wing that he can reach in time, who also have the knack of handling themselves in an unexpected crisis.
It doesn't take long for him to arrive after that, kitted out in blood-resistant Hunter cloth armor, a filtration mask dangling around his neck. He recognized the terrain, and narrowing down the precise location of the farm with the intermittent flashes of prescience that arc across his eyes was all that he needed after that. He sends that information along too, Sophia firing it off in a burst as they hurry to Falco's side.]
[ 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.
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.]
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 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?
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. ]
[ 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.
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. ]
[ 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. ]
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. ]
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.]
[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.]
i. capture
ii. imprisonment
Much of the time, with the correct precautions, it's possible to ignore the sewer system that runs rampant under the city. Its great looping circuits, its dead end pockets, its drains and channels and gutters, and the Beasts that stalk them all in the darkness may go overlooked.
The floods change that.
Wide, flat pools form over clogged storm drains in the streets, while the plumbing inside buildings gurgles and spits up gouts of filthy seawater as the sewer system struggles to keep pace with the fury of an angered god. As in any flood, it is not the water alone that causes danger - it is everything that it brings with it, debris from the minute to the towering, the mad mishmash of the refuse that settles low in any civilized place only to be lifted up all at once by the wild violence of a storm.
Some of the wreckage is more dangerous than others.
What brings you below the street level is your own affair. Perhaps you lost something to the tunnels and wish to see it returned; perhaps you hunt one of the many Beasts you make it their home and are disturbed to wrath by the flooding of their territory; perhaps you catch sight of something through the slats of a gutter that intrigues you. It does not matter.
What does matter, when you are far enough away from wherever you came in that your screams might be difficult to trace, is if you see the tentacle snaking through the dirty shallows at your feet.
ii. imprisonment
Let it never be said that the Second Saint to serve the King Undying was not industrious.
The challenges of containing such a diversity of captives are many, beginning from the necessity of avoiding any circumstance where they might interact. This is not so much to forestall conspiracy as it is to avoid having to speak to more than one of them at once, but she rarely does anything for only one reason. The spacing required to maintain an acceptable buffer means that each cell ends up a modestly irritating distance apart, given that she travels to most of them on foot.
Another issue that arises swiftly is the tedious insistence on escape so many people have in the face of even the most humane imprisonment. Each cell, beautifully latticed taut sinew and taut muscle fiber sheathing curved bone, tightly bundled prehensile tongues anchored at their thick bases, must be made new, then meticulously encircled in wards of her own painted spit, then matched to each prisoner by their demonstrated strength. Some she can permit movement within the claustrophobic, sometimes twitching walls, but others need to be fully restrained, which adds another burden of care to her shoulders.
After all, she doesn't want to kill any of them. She would be so blessed as to only want that little. No - unfortunately for her (and perhaps, to some indifferent degree, unfortunately for them) the Saint of Woe remains committed to her mission of mercy.
It's distressing. A vast and growing number of things are, and it is in this mood that she bids a cell to flare one of its exhaust vents so she might peer inside the pinkish insides.
The light cast by her Omni only goes so far. (She's taken theirs, as a precaution, with strictest instructions to her constructs to confiscate anything of the sort that might manifest again.) It still shows more of her than might be reassuring to see, the darkness perhaps preferable to her off-kilter seething glare of rust-colored irises ringed by green-flecked whites, framed by loose strands of pinkish, unkempt hair escaped from a carelessly bound low ponytail.
She doesn't seem on the verge of speech.
There are times when walking into a trap is the easiest way to deal with it. D could have spent time wandering around in the tunnels following a mix of scents and sounds. But when the moment came, he'd allowed himself to be pulled along by the tendril and put up no more of a struggle than an ordinary human of his height and build might put up.
There's a familiar feel to the magic animating strange flesh and running his left hand along it confirms the similarity. It's not Gaius from what they can tell, but the same or similar dimension.
D is completely unbothered by the dark or the faint light when the strange fleshy prison opens up. The dim light only enhances D's unusual appearance as a creature of the night. Dark eyes and dark hair closer to the night itself than any color against skin that almost looks more like living stone than flesh.
There's a familiar feel to the magic animating strange flesh and running his left hand along it confirms the similarity. It's not Gaius from what they can tell, but the same or similar dimension.
D is completely unbothered by the dark or the faint light when the strange fleshy prison opens up. The dim light only enhances D's unusual appearance as a creature of the night. Dark eyes and dark hair closer to the night itself than any color against skin that almost looks more like living stone than flesh.
This wasn't his first time in restraints.
The man that was more bone than flesh hung limply in the bindings that held him against the wall, his arms outspread to prevent any tricks-- as if he were a mage far more impressive than the vessel of petty feats of mana that he was. He had only ventured outside for a quick trek across Cellar Door to get more tea and wine, two essentials to help his household deal with the stress of the repetitive flooding the had besieged Trench. He had places to go and plans to attend to--
When his omen, a black cat he called Gray, wandered off into the sewers after an unknown prize. He had given chase, because he was not in the mood to fight against the whims of Mariana for a simple shopping trip.
It was absurdly easy to catch him off guard and knock him down.
A migraine had settled in, stabbing a pick through his temples and gripping the back of his skull like a vice. Even the dulled flicker from the handheld light caused pain and nausea to ripple through him... And Waver Velvet groaned in discomfort.
"... Another five minutes," he muttered, as if he had been asleep, and he peered up at his captor through sticky, brine sodden hair.
...
Somehow, he knew that woman hadn't been so kind as to return to the sea.
The man that was more bone than flesh hung limply in the bindings that held him against the wall, his arms outspread to prevent any tricks-- as if he were a mage far more impressive than the vessel of petty feats of mana that he was. He had only ventured outside for a quick trek across Cellar Door to get more tea and wine, two essentials to help his household deal with the stress of the repetitive flooding the had besieged Trench. He had places to go and plans to attend to--
When his omen, a black cat he called Gray, wandered off into the sewers after an unknown prize. He had given chase, because he was not in the mood to fight against the whims of Mariana for a simple shopping trip.
It was absurdly easy to catch him off guard and knock him down.
A migraine had settled in, stabbing a pick through his temples and gripping the back of his skull like a vice. Even the dulled flicker from the handheld light caused pain and nausea to ripple through him... And Waver Velvet groaned in discomfort.
"... Another five minutes," he muttered, as if he had been asleep, and he peered up at his captor through sticky, brine sodden hair.
...
Somehow, he knew that woman hadn't been so kind as to return to the sea.
Edited 2022-08-09 17:00 (UTC)
[ it happens when 2B walks through the district of prufrock, donning new vestments that closely resemble what she is used to, now as an accepted hunter— black and easy to move in. it fits finely with trench's deep shades and driery skies. what does not fit in with most of these burly, combat-ready soldier types had been the moment 2B's eyes shot up a glowing ice-blue light, causing her body to constrict within artificial muscle and show her—
hollowed chambers. the drip of muck and seawater. the crack of light from thin metal bars.
sloppy, wet tendrils gathered around the wrists of limbs, up and down.
the scent of— she couldn't identify them.
a smell that is not obnoxious, but light and fleeting, almost nothing. it flows white through a tube-like structure. there's more.
rust. black, but like the sky and thousands of stars. blue, like a pale moon over a pond's reflection.
they all pump through conduits, into bodies.
of wildflowers, like the overgrowth on earth. deep green and streaked with crimson.
of something pungent and sharp. hot. cold. sweet and tarty.
sweat sticks and beads over the sharp curvatures of jutted jawbones, shining at her temples and cheeks, a delicate face that doesn't play the part of delicate.
a flash of pink, of fixed brows and puckered lips always sour.
ill, wrong. viscous green fluid slips from her nose and stains her scowl.
a pinkish growth buds where pale, nauseous skin is exposed and dots her complexion.
"WHY STOP IN HER FERVOR WHEN NO ONE THINKS TO LOOK?"
the words ghost her lips by the time her frame slacks and she catches her weight in a balancing stagger. she throws it to her heels, clicking harshly on rough cobblestone floors until she can catch her breath, and rest her hand on her chest, then her eyes, both sides of her head. her vitals were at a battering high. if that had been a vision, as palebloods "get", she remembers—
2B catches the shadow of thin metal bars on the ground, once overflowing and cleaned by the rush of a flood. it drips, drips, drips down to the sewer's empty tunnel system. she becomes highly aware of it as if a moving target, and with the perfect picture of mercymorn burned into her memory, she begins to move to its closest ladder leading down. it is easy to hear the android: clack, clack, clack went her measured steps, echoing through the tunnels and matching the flashes of what she saw as a sign to continue. there were beasts down here. beasts, and apparently unruly women. she takes the blade of virtuous contract and slaps its face against the wall, sharp and dry.
if there was anything down here, they would come, and she would slice whatever looked like a throat to get to her destination. ]
sloppy, wet tendrils gathered around the wrists of limbs, up and down.
the scent of— she couldn't identify them.
a smell that is not obnoxious, but light and fleeting, almost nothing. it flows white through a tube-like structure. there's more.
rust. black, but like the sky and thousands of stars. blue, like a pale moon over a pond's reflection.
they all pump through conduits, into bodies.
of wildflowers, like the overgrowth on earth. deep green and streaked with crimson.
of something pungent and sharp. hot. cold. sweet and tarty.
sweat sticks and beads over the sharp curvatures of jutted jawbones, shining at her temples and cheeks, a delicate face that doesn't play the part of delicate.
a flash of pink, of fixed brows and puckered lips always sour.
ill, wrong. viscous green fluid slips from her nose and stains her scowl.
a pinkish growth buds where pale, nauseous skin is exposed and dots her complexion.
"WHY STOP IN HER FERVOR WHEN NO ONE THINKS TO LOOK?"
the words ghost her lips by the time her frame slacks and she catches her weight in a balancing stagger. she throws it to her heels, clicking harshly on rough cobblestone floors until she can catch her breath, and rest her hand on her chest, then her eyes, both sides of her head. her vitals were at a battering high. if that had been a vision, as palebloods "get", she remembers—
2B catches the shadow of thin metal bars on the ground, once overflowing and cleaned by the rush of a flood. it drips, drips, drips down to the sewer's empty tunnel system. she becomes highly aware of it as if a moving target, and with the perfect picture of mercymorn burned into her memory, she begins to move to its closest ladder leading down. it is easy to hear the android: clack, clack, clack went her measured steps, echoing through the tunnels and matching the flashes of what she saw as a sign to continue. there were beasts down here. beasts, and apparently unruly women. she takes the blade of virtuous contract and slaps its face against the wall, sharp and dry.
if there was anything down here, they would come, and she would slice whatever looked like a throat to get to her destination. ]
The woman purses her lips, her eyes narrowing as she scores them across his body like a scalpel, and a flash of inexplicable emotion clouds her already stormy gaze. It does not seem to skew towards the positive.
"Well?" She says, sharply, with a curdled edge, "Anything to say for yourself?"
Inside the cell, one of the tentacles stirs, reaching for nearest patch of uncovered skin. It is a dry, slim thing at the tip, a tongue devoid of the lubrication of salivary glands, pebbled and faintly rough.
"Well?" She says, sharply, with a curdled edge, "Anything to say for yourself?"
Inside the cell, one of the tentacles stirs, reaching for nearest patch of uncovered skin. It is a dry, slim thing at the tip, a tongue devoid of the lubrication of salivary glands, pebbled and faintly rough.
[ 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.) ]
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.) ]
"I don't think so!" She says, cruelly high-pitched and piercing, with a serenely unpleasant little smile neatly in place.
Unlike some of her luckier captives, Waver is not left untouched by the tentacles. Four of them are wrapped snugly around his torso, and they constrict slightly, the bumps of hardened tastebuds whispering across his clothing.
Unlike some of her luckier captives, Waver is not left untouched by the tentacles. Four of them are wrapped snugly around his torso, and they constrict slightly, the bumps of hardened tastebuds whispering across his clothing.
[ There is quiet after the sword striking stone.
The tunnels do not fill with the answering cries of a Beast. The unclean flow of water reverberates off the curved walls alone, except for a singular distant splash, which could be anything. 2B's heels click neatly along, unaccompanied - until what looks like the tip of an extended human tongue pokes itself above the waters, twitching at her approach.
It flicks itself at her. Somehow, despite being a tongue (one that is, already, too long seeming, stretched improbably past the limits of a mouth) it conveys a distinct sense of dismissal. ]
The tunnels do not fill with the answering cries of a Beast. The unclean flow of water reverberates off the curved walls alone, except for a singular distant splash, which could be anything. 2B's heels click neatly along, unaccompanied - until what looks like the tip of an extended human tongue pokes itself above the waters, twitching at her approach.
It flicks itself at her. Somehow, despite being a tongue (one that is, already, too long seeming, stretched improbably past the limits of a mouth) it conveys a distinct sense of dismissal. ]
[ Gideon wakes on the floor of an underground cell, with a shit-eating necromancer making a weird face at her, and she almost feels homesick. The nausea she's experiencing could be a kind of homesickness, for sure -- this place is disgusting. Awful vibes in every way.
Gideon immediately reaches for her sword, which is, of course, dumb. You can't imprison her without taking it. The next thing she goes for is her Omni, to request backup from her House, but even that goes nowhere.
Only one option remains: be so fucking annoying that this lemongrab nightmare will let her go. ]
Hey. [ Gideon sticks a hand out and waves. ] Yoo-hoo. You wanna go ahead and let me out now?
Gideon immediately reaches for her sword, which is, of course, dumb. You can't imprison her without taking it. The next thing she goes for is her Omni, to request backup from her House, but even that goes nowhere.
Only one option remains: be so fucking annoying that this lemongrab nightmare will let her go. ]
Hey. [ Gideon sticks a hand out and waves. ] Yoo-hoo. You wanna go ahead and let me out now?
"Shouldn't I ask you that? You're the one going around capturing strangers," D counters, his voice calm and slightly cold. The only uncovered patches of skin D has are his face and his left hand.
While he's been fairly docile so far, D leans away from the tongue and grabs it with his left hand to keep it from going for his face.
"Is that really necessary?" Even D has his limits and letting a rogue tongue go for his face is apparently among them.
While he's been fairly docile so far, D leans away from the tongue and grabs it with his left hand to keep it from going for his face.
"Is that really necessary?" Even D has his limits and letting a rogue tongue go for his face is apparently among them.
[ an elegant start ends with an elegant stop, even on the surface of a mask of water at the middle arch of the tunnel she paces across. her eyes target the movement within inhuman moments (it's close to a cat's predatory reflex for something in motion), and a better analysis determines . . .
it is a prolonged, fleshy tendril. a tongue. a human tongue, and that is what saves it from a deadly swipe of the ready blade. 2B scrutinizes the strung-out organ with an unphased gaze. she does think it can be something worth following. with a nudge of the type of her boot, she hopes to see a ripple and a way to go. ]
it is a prolonged, fleshy tendril. a tongue. a human tongue, and that is what saves it from a deadly swipe of the ready blade. 2B scrutinizes the strung-out organ with an unphased gaze. she does think it can be something worth following. with a nudge of the type of her boot, she hopes to see a ripple and a way to go. ]
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