deercountry | he ate my heart

he ate my heart

AUGUST 2022 EVENT

EXTRA WARNING:

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: The shore line lit up by some sort of bioluminescent organism. ]
[Image Two: A sunken pirate ship covered in algae, seaweed, and suffering from wood rot. ]

Prompt Two
[Image One: A tentacle wrapping around a persons hand. ]
[Image Two: A close up of someone's shoulder which is turning black and cracked and dripping water. ]

Prompt Three
[Image One: A statue of a human face, split in half, with a golden devil mask between the two halves. ]
[Image Two: A number of golden hands reaching up for a white sphere. ]

[NAVIGATION]

Prompt 1 • Prompt 2 • Prompt 3 • Plotting • Newsletter

[JUMP TO COMMENTS]

WE GLOW SO DIM

WHEN: August
WHERE: The Ocean
CONTENT WARNINGS: Deep diving, possible drowning, possible death

Early on in the month, the waves start to have a strange look to them. They seem a little brighter, even at night, and it's then that it hits you: the waves are glowing. It's easy to at first to brush it off as the bioluminescence of certain types of plankton, but the way it moves and sparkles has an other-worldly quality to it that can't be explained by science. Those who look even closer at the glow will notice that it seems to be forming some sort of path into the watery depths.

Those who choose to follow the path despite the angry waves and awful storms that plague the seas this month will find that the ocean seems to be at its calmest along these illuminated, watery roads. Diving down to follow them won't require any equipment, as Sleepers will find that staying within the glowing path allows them to breathe under water when they might normally not have been able to. The pressure changes don't seem to be impacting anyone who follows the light either, allowing them access to deeper depths of the ocean than may have previously been explored.

Continuing to follow the path will lead Sleepers to a series of ship wrecks under the water. These ancient vessels are rotted and covered in seaweed, but anyone who is familiar with the cultures of Earth will notice that they seem to come from all over the world and their styles vary by multiple centuries. But all the ships seem to be covered in this same, strange glow that has brought people here.

Exploring the ships will lead to multiple different discoveries. There are chests filled with ancient artifacts: carvings of squids, statues of various sea creatures that feel a little off somehow, and stones carved with a strange text that is almost impossible to decipher. The artifacts are covered in strange, rust-looking stains that penetrate deep into the materials they're made of. These artifacts can be brought back to shore, and if someone were to try and ask the Trenchies what the writing said, they would only be able to say that these are clearly texts of the Old Ones from long before any recorded history that Trench has in its Archives. When asked about the sea creatures, they'll think it's obvious: these are Mariana's various forms from over the years. The off qualities are her unique takes as a Pthumerian on the creatures of the ocean.

Prolonged exposure to these statues of Mariana will cause people to become more bluntly honest, more open with their emotions, and often much more prone to large outbursts from said emotions, both good and bad. However, Sleepers who keep these statues near them will also find that they are able to keep more control of their blood powers. It's up to each individual if it's a worthy trade off.

If you leave the path, two things can happen: Sleepers will either turn into their squid selves and can continue to swim or they will drown. There will be nothing of interest outside of these paths, just typical ocean creatures, and maybe some of those monsters that have been crawling out of the watery depths as of late.

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

MONSTER WITHIN

WHEN: August
WHERE: All over
CONTENT WARNINGS: Body horror, mentions of potential cannibalism/vore, possible death, contagious curse

Soon after people start to explore the ships, a strange occurrence will start to sweep through the city. Locals start to mutter something about a curse, one that seems to only be impacting Sleepers. The early signs that there's something off is an increase in strength and stamina. For example, Sleepers will find that they might go to pick up a chair or a mug and it shatters in their hands. Some people may find that they are incapable of sleeping. Others might find they're able to move quicker and for longer periods than normal.

If they look themselves over, they will start to find small patches of skin that have started to gray and blacken. These patches will be cracked, almost scaley, and will be consistently damp no matter how hard you try to dry them off. As time passes, this odd rash will start to spread, taking over more and more of the body. The torso might start to swell and distort, making Sleepers feel particularly top heavy. And eventually, suckers will start to form on the arms and legs.

This curse isn't beasthood in its usual forms; instead, it seems to be some sort of malady in of the magical blood that Sleepers have been granted. If the blood of an infected Sleeper is looked at under a microscope, there will be black patches clinging to the cells, similar to the patches that people see on their skin. If it isn't stopped, the person suffering from the curse will ultimately turn into a monstrous form of their squid-selves: these monster forms are large, aggressive, and able to move on land. They will feel a hunger for destruction and some Sleepers may find in these forms that they are only satisfied if they feed on other, uncursed Sleepers.

There are two ways to lift the curse. One is through a thorough blood transfusion with a blood type that is compatible with your own. This becomes more difficult to do the closer to the monstrous form people get, both due to aggression from the curse, and also due to the fact that the black patches of skin are highly difficult to puncture. Once the blood is completely replaced by fresh blood, the skin patches will disappear over 48 hours and the Sleeper will be left feeling thoroughly exhausted.

The second way to lift the curse is through death. While these monster squid forms are difficult to kill, it is not impossible, and they are particularly susceptible to magic over weapons. Once a Sleeper has died, they can be reborn, and their blood will be completely free of the curse.

The blood malady can be spread outside of those who come into contact with the ship wrecks. People who touch a cursed Sleeper, particularly the scaley patches of skin, will also run the risk of being cursed. It takes roughly a week for the signs of the curse to show, and can spread as slowly or as rapidly as players choose.

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

LAVISH DESIRES

WHEN: August
WHERE: All over
CONTENT WARNINGS: Personality changes, mental manipulation, hoarding, obsessive anxiety, disassociation, depersonalization

The high waves seem to just be getting higher at the beginning of the month. Rougher and rougher seas start to cause something anyone who's lived around water will be familiar with: flash floods. These floods are large, powerful, and fill the streets of Trench. First-floors of buildings may get extreme damage, though they can be protected with physical and magical barriers if people are smart about it. The floods happen multiple times throughout the month without warning, so it may be good to get that protection built up sooner rather than later.

The after effects of these floods aren't just structural devastation though. People who get caught up in the water, particularly those who end up swallowing it, will have one word echoing in their mind on a regular basis: More.

More of what? That seems to be different for each individual. Maybe one person wants more and more food, anything from an extra slice of cake after dinner, to wanting to stuff themselves until they just might pop. Or maybe they want to hoard all of their favorite objects or pieces of clothing, filling more and more of the space in their homes until they're ready to burst at the seems. Some might find it's their emotions that come in excess, with over the top anger, or irregular excitement that leaves them unable to sleep for days. Anything and everything can come in excess and it certainly seems to be this month. Some people may get these obsessive needs to such a degree that they start to feel disconnected from themselves, fractured by the overabundance that has taken over their lives.

If people ignore these desires, they'll start to find they're plagued by hallucinations. Strong, life-like visions that riddle them with anxiety and leave them petrified of what might happen if they don't partake in this gluttonous behavior. They'll feel shaken to the core and slowly go mad with need and desire for whatever it is they've been craving. This feeling of madness can make them become violent, lashing out at those around them, even killing those who try and help them out of belief that they're trying to force them to give in to their vices.

The impact of the water will wear off either after one week without re-exposure, or by using a Moon Drop to help to cleanse the mind.

[JUMP TO TOP]

CODING

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Pyrrha looks at the glowing water, beckoning them into the water. A gift and a siren song. She's done well so far, always safely coming back up, staying so much as possible within the illuminated passage. "It goes on a long ways," Pyrrha notes. "How experienced of a swimmer are you?"

Her attire makes her plans as clear as day. She doesn't pretend otherwise, but as much risk as she'll take herself, she tries to do right by other people, especially kids. Pyrrha turns to look him, noting the crutch and lack of a limp together. July was a hard month. Perhaps it was for him? She doesn't tell him to go home. It would only convince him to sneak out and go about things more dangerously.

Surprised, Falco's eyes go wide between blinking; he hadn't intended for a dive so soon (rather, he hadn't considered receiving a fast invitation), though he did bring extra everything (towels, change of clothes) in case he or another Sleeper could use it.

"I can swim," he responds, not exactly a professional but not lacking in confidence where his stamina was concerned. He remembers the day South Sister Island was engulfed by flood waters with nowhere to rest; he managed to stay afloat via titan for quite some time. Now, deep diving . . . "I just don't think I can stay without breathing for long—?"

Edited 2022-08-12 16:08 (UTC)

"Hmm," Pyrrha doesn't comment on his swimming abilities beyond that. It isn't the most important factor, for what she has to decide. People usually don't bring the supplies to back off at the last moment. Not unless another monster throws itself bodily onto the shore and distracts everyone from their previous plans.

That's something everyone who enters uninformed has to learn for themselves. "If you can swim well enough, that isn't a problem," she says, "we can breath underwater, as long as we stay in the illuminated path. If you get pulled out of it, breathing becomes a problem." She looks over at him, mindful.

Falco looks between the shimmering, bioluminescence of the oceanic path beneath the roll of waves and Pyrrha. With each new detail, his curiosity blatantly grows. He was wasn’t one to adventure about recklessly, but . . . He’s gotten a taste for discovery.

“If you’re going in again— would it be alright to come with you?”

He asks permission, foremost; it probably wasn’t safe to go alone to begin with. If it was with another Sleeper, perhaps— it should be fine.

That yearning is a familiar look. It's a look that promises to follow through, even though it's dangerous. There's a small chance he might not have gone in before. Not anymore. The responsibility is hers to look out for him. Fair enough given Pyrrha likes kids.

"If you follow my lead," Pyrrha says. "If I tap you twice on the shoulder, it's time to go. We can't exactly have a conversation underwater." Even if they could, that doesn't mean there would be time. "We stick together, the entire time." She's not losing a kid in some sunken ship when she cannot sense people's bodies and souls.

"Yes, Ma'am," the boy obliges, with a curt tuck of his head to clearly signal his attention as much as obedience. If those were the rules, he'll be certain to follow them. He supposes now would be a good time to remove his heavier wear— his cloak with its bird skull fastener, his shirt, his messenger bag that is gently lowered into the sand along with his crutch, followed by himself. He removes his boots and the socks underneath, now only dawning his shorts.

Before leaving his things where they were, his omen whisps from his shoulders and steps upon the finger he offers her: A Pygmy Falcon no larger than a young adult's hand. The boy guides her to the top of his bag, and she steps onto it with a chirp, expectantly watching him and retorting, with a woman's voice: "Stay safe, young man."

He knows— and strokes her head with a gentle caress of his fingertips before splaying both hands into the soft black sand to push himself upward. Balancing, making sure to straighten his back so he doesn't stay crouched, and then, he believes he's ready. He knows to trust the other's words if she's already said they could breathe down there, but all the same! There is a nervous little thrill about diving and not needing to come back up.

"Oh," he starts, and offers a respectful bow to say: "I'm Falco."

Pyrrha waits while the boy gets ready. Cinnabar, her maned wolf, its red fur striking during the day but less clear at night trots down the shoreline toward them. The wolf sits, with a glance toward the bird and a nod of the head in respect. No words, but they don't need them for something like this.

Pyrrha returns the bow with equal respect. It goes both ways. Falco, the boy, doesn't owe her obedience blindly. Nor forever. It's only for his safety that she has the right. Even then, he agrees to it first. "I'm Duty," she says, the name true longer than Pyrrha. The two entangled.

"Follow me," she adds. Then Pyrrha walks into the glowing water, wading deeper and deeper, the sand beneath her feet. She moves slowly and steadily, taking care to let Falco keep up.

The water is a chill against his skin even in the summer heat now doused by the evening drop temperatures, but not exactly deterring. It's the sort of sensation that his body gets used to the more he wades behind her until by her side, allowing the water to rise up his legs. Once at his hips, he pauses to do the deed to get rid of the touch of apprehension tied to the water briskly nipping the belly up: he drops his knees into a bend once he counts to three, sinking his head down and bobbing back up to his feet almost immediately.

Now, it's colder against the outside wind than the sea. Falco walks out where he can until the waves slosh against his neck and threaten his mouth and eyes with salty sprays. He waits for her signal before diving, but until then, he does marvel at the colors reflecting back at him and his face.

"It's even better up close . . ."

Tall, even for an adult, Pyrrha doesn't need to dive as soon as the boy, but she lowers herself the into the water, feeling the current around them and seeing it in the glowing swirls around them. "It's an incredible as we dive deeper," she says warmly. Old as she is, this experience isn't something she takes for granted. Her life's different here than it's been during the previous myriad.

Then she nods and goes underwater. Pyrrha moves slowly until she's sure Falco is with her, then leads the way onward and downward. The first time she needs to breath, she looks over at him and breaths so he can see it. She breaths. She doesn't drown. She's okay. They're okay.

Naturally, Falco inhales a deep breath when they do decide to dive. He keeps up with wide strokes of his arms going forward then to his sides, all while adding a kick to each movement through the bright path the ocean provides them. He’s surprised he can see more than the veil of blurriness he usually would find beneath waves.

The boy catches and watches her cue to breathe— and perhaps it does take him a few moments to try. His brain tells him it’s against every chance of his survival and impedes him from an immediate shot, but when he does gather the proper split second courage to do what he technically shouldn’t . . . He’s surprised either way, when the tiny pull of water into his lungs doesn’t end the way nature would intend it to.

He breathes oxygen, not water.

He can’t the smallest smiles of amazement, and nods to Pyrrha for her to continue.

It's always tricky to breath underwater. Her past experience, in her world, is travel through the River. The River is not a river, the way this ocean is an ocean. It isn't a physical place, for all the water roars and flows like water, for all she's seen it cave in windows and flood into a room, held at bay for a little while by a physical construct. Breathing in this pathand breathing in the River feels similar. The brain has to be told it can still breath. Water fills mouth and lungs and does not choke, though everything humans are taught from a young age says otherwise. It's surreal and wonderful and takes practice.

Pyrrha continues the only safe route, with no need to telegraph her movements. They swim down and away from shore, so far that they would drown if they lost control of their path and stay human. She checks on Falco regularly and always keeps him in the corner of her eye. Things can change so fast in the ocean.

When they reach the area of underwater ships, the glowing water contains each ship. They're easy to see, while the water around them is dark and impermeable from the contrast. Pyrrha treads water for a moment and motions toward the ships around them. Which one does Falco want to check out?

There's plenty to see on their glowing course that Falco has wandering eyes for— he never strays for long, but he does occasionally allow his vision to pin the monstrous movement of something with an array of limbs, fins, teeth undulating across lower drifts. Mariana's many forms. At any rate, he's sure not to lose sight of Pyrrha and strokes after her if she's an arm's length away.

(Don't forget to breathe, he tells himself before the agony of holding his lungs still hits.)

The wrecks that bring them to the far end of their radiant trail are eerie, like ghost towns, empty in a way that speaks so hushedly of a history that once was. What happened to them—?

Falco is drawn to a ship with its starboard blown open and the bud of its stern missing (don't ask him why— the golden glow from within it?). The wooden planks, full or splintered, have degraded and made home to clinging algae and sponges, hardened corals and skittering crustaceans. He points to that one and watches expectantly.

Pyrrha watches Falco look around and still loves the view herself. There's more here to explore and to learn than she expects they'll be given time. What draws him to this ship that clearly experienced a traumatic and abrupt end? No matter the reason, it's a beautiful option they can learn more about.

With a nod, Pyrrha leads the way toward the ship. She doesn't swim straight in. First, motioning Falco to stay with her, Pyrrha swims around it, checking out what they can learn in a space with greater freedom of movement. When nothing attacks them or looks suspiciously off, every time she checks and makes sure because any day the rules could change and danger could appear any day, any time.

Then she swims in first, appreciating the sea life yes but also presenting the first target. A wooden ship, from who knows how long ago. It doesn't resemble the vessels the fishermen use in Trench, but they don't stray that far.

Falco is responsible in knowing that it's a good idea to look out on his end, too— And he does, where Duty doesn't. By the time she enters, the boy circles his vision around to scope their near-empty surroundings before following in after her with strokes and kicks. Without the bioluminescence, it would've been terribly dark, too dark to see a thing.

It's like going through the aisles of the wildest museum he could've ever stumbled across. His bangs float across his brows as he finds the right way to move his arms to keep in place, using the inner curve of the ship's interior to guide him. Scattered across the floors are more parts of the sunken vessel, fractured walls and rattled treasures— old copper that shines like a light against the water's shimmers, so many little characters stuck in time as iron figures.

Falco can feel the back of his neck along with the hairs on his arms prickle. It was like seeing something . . . Haunted? But not quite. He felt safe enough to keep fear at bay, but they held an unknown power to them, nonetheless.

Edited 2022-08-18 19:17 (UTC)

These ships are full of resources. With effort, they could be stripped down and taken away. She's been through too many lean times to avoid that thought. It's only a thought, though, because this ancient ship is more than that and because times are not that desperate above. She'll look and take away only what may help them above the waves. Pyrrha has had little trouble, considering what the sea can be like, coming here, so she seems to have tacit approval from Mariana or Mariana is content to ignore her actions.

(Or something is coming and will come, but that is the ocean, able to turn at any moment)

While keeping Falco in view, Pyrrha explores the items in the ship. For now she doesn't touch more than the walls or anchoring herself with a foot or ankle around something. Her eyes catch something with what very well could be writing on it. The patterns look too regular only to be the effects of water and creatures over time. Pyrrha keeps herself there and looks and looks, though no understanding comes with it.

The statues feel off in a way that Falco can't quite put a finger on. He does venture to touch the copper-stained figures and settles his curiosity on what seems like a kraken, brushing his fingertips on the metal's sculpture's perfection to detail. Would it be okay to take? To study, certainly— he's reminded of Palamedes and Jun, as studious and curious as he was. It would make a good study session . . .

gently cupping the palm-sized figure, Falco propels himself with a kick and pushes from the wall closer to Pyrrha. When his eyes fall on what look like glyphs of an ancient language— his eyes widen and blink rapidly to refocus. He's pointing at them with a gesture akin to familiarity.

He may has seen something similar elsewhere.

Pyrrha's attention first turns to Falco's hand and what is cupped there because a child's safety still comes before whatever the emphatic gesturing means (obviously, something of interest). She nods and tucks a foot through a gap in the floorboards. So anchored, Pyrrha pulls herself down, so she's closer in height to the stone with its writing. Near the bottom, a squid is in relief on the stone.

It's a tablet, small enough for one person to carry but not easily. It's still heavy, and they are at the bottom of the ocean. She considers her first dive. Pyrrha closes her eyes and concentrates on the feel of her legs. She imagines anchoring herself not with a foot but with a section of suckers along a tentacle. She imagines her legs splitting into pieces, losing their bones and gaining strength and flexibility. She remembers the feeling they had.

Nothing, so far as her body goes, happens.

Fine, Pyrrha thinks. She gathers the tablet in her arms and hugs it against her chest. To Falco, she nods toward the way they came in. Slowly, Pyrrha makes her way across with far less effort than before. Her prize weighs her down enough it is more like walking than before. Outside, she settles down to the ocean floor and considers the vast darkness beyond their lighted water. Can she swim all the way back, with her arms mostly holding the large tablet? Yes. Would it be easier with more legs? Also, yes.

She holds out one hand motioning Falco to stay within the lit water. Slowly Pyrrha makes her way near the edge. There, she takes one last deep breath of breathable water and steps into the dark ocean beyond. Her heart beats a tick faster, and a current tugs lightly at her. So wishing for an effect, remembering her close call before, her system spikes alert. Pyrrha swims swiftly back into the glowing water, with scarlet tentacles and white suckers lining their undersides. So transformed, swimming is much easier. Her burden is simply more weight to propel.

After returning to Falco, Pyrrha motions back the way they came. They each have their treasures, and it's time to go.

Falco realizes the struggle of weight and, once trying to assist her and failing (quite terribly), he considers the first solution that would rid them of that problem: A vessel of powerful propulsion and strength to lift a boulder and make it seem like pebbles. He'd have to swim away and pollute the sea— that wasn't a smart move. He stays his hand and begins to look around them for solutions of any kind until he doesn't have to.

Pyrrha is not all squid, but not all human. He watches as if he's seeing the stars for the first time in his life. Although Falco is not sure if he'd like the same for his own appendages, admittedly, he does as he's told rather than venturing away from the lit path, using the strokes one occupied arm and two human legs offer him as he keeps his fingers tight around the artifact, yet still swings his limbs rhythmically toward the surface.

Following Falco is easy in this form. She watches him, alert to any sign of fatigue or other danger. The path is always a balancing act, to stay within its confines, so much narrower than the ocean itself. They are delicate creatures, and the water is never truly safe.

So she follows, arms full, ready to catch him with a tentacle and the powerful grip they can maintain.

Fairly, he does seem to visibly tire compared to the dive down. He's considerably slower, but overall, athletic enough to continue without cramping legs or arms. He can keep up, and with the gentle current helping here and there to float naturally upwards—

Sooner rather than later, they'd finally break through the surface. Falco takes his first breath of crisp air, and feels the weight of his legs drag onto land, keeps upright, but slowly gives to the curve his back needed to drop to his hands. "Amazing . . . !"

When her tentacles touch down on the sand, Pyrrha focuses her attention inward. There's no fine tuned biological control, the way Mercymorn might have. No, it's far simpler and tied into intentions. Pyrrha, again, is walking out of the ocean. So she walks, awkwardly and ungainly at first. Her mind's conception of walking doesn't quite match what tentacles are able to do. They gather together, knitting into the limbs people expect a person generally to have. Two legs covered in hair not suckers.

Her smile is Duty's smile, the name she gave, even if she is Pyrrha, not Duty, in the moment. The habit's ingrained too long to veer away from. Slight though it may be, it carries that excitement seriously. "It is," Pyrrha agrees. Every time it remains the wonder and marvel it was the first night. "You were good," she compliments.

"Thank you," Falco breathes out, gathering the strength on his knees to push himself up and force his body to accept the correct posture of a human. It takes some effort, but he does it. With an artifact in hand now less. So that's what happens when we go back to the water, he muses, but is quickly diverted from Pyrrha's own catch.

"Mistsr Duty," he starts, "I've seen those symbols before."

Edited 2022-08-25 23:53 (UTC)

"You're welcome," Pyrrha says. The compliment is serious. If Falco needed her help, she would have dropped the tablet to inaccessible reaches of the ocean floor to help him, to save him, to do her duty by him. That's what she commits to when taking a child somewhere dangerous with her. Retrieving this tablet is their accomplishment together.

"Where have you seen them, Falco?" she asks. His excitement spoke to something. Now, all this way later, she gets to find out what she went through the trouble for.

“In the caves by the rocks,” Falco answers between breaths, a smile breaking past his lips as he allows his chest to work. He points, to the far side of the shore, wrangling his bag and artifact inside while Perle jumps from the top to land of his shoulder. She’s preening some of his hair, in the meantime.

“I could take you there.”

And he seems confident in doing so.

The enthusiasm softens her rich brown eyes. Pyrrha shifts the tablet to one arm. Her omen, Cinnabar, approaches with her things. She accepts the omni and photographs the tablet. Then she removes what she wants from her bag, places the tablet in it, and nods to her omen. Cinnabar trots off, melting into shadow to near invisibility. The tablet will be safe, and Pyrrha has her arms.

"Lets do it," Pyrrha agrees. Runes aren't the most common language type she's learned, but they're gathering information. Someone else can make the breakthrough.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

he ate my heart

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cw: squid statue in link

cw: partial body transformation; squid relief (sculpture) in link

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cw: partial body transformation

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