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

That gives her pause, which gives Battler a passing reprieve from her haranguing. She tips her head to one side, then the other, rolling the information like a marble on a tilt table.

"What are the red, blue, and gold truths?" She asks, with an abrupt shift towards quiet untroubled by her previous biting ire. She takes a step closer, close enough to intrude on the boundaries of personal space, and her hands open loosely.

"That... is kind of a long story," Battler shrugs with a lopsided smile, "Might be more comfortable to sit down while I explain them."

He's not being deceptive or anything. It's just something he'd rather not do standing in the middle of the road, that's all.

"Also a bit tied into my own particular shard, if I'm being honest... I haven't tested them out here just yet."

"And I suppose you'd like something to eat, as well," she mutters, obliquely, before she shakes her head dolefully.

"Come, then," she instructs, pivoting neatly on her heel and taking off with the confidence of someone who knows precisely where she is going. She doesn't, but she assumes that seating will present itself somewhere along the roads.

"Are you newly arrived?" She tosses over her shoulder, clinical interest remanifested, another whiplash evoking tonal change. "What do you mean by 'shard'?"

"Wouldn't say no!" He replies, rather chipper about the whole thing. He'll take food if it's offered. He follows without hesitation, hands in his pockets.

"I am, actually. Came out of the sea a week or two ago..." He scratches under his chin as he talks, "...and shard is sort of how I describe the piece of reality I was in. That or a 'catbox'. A couple of days in a certain time and place that repeated itself over and over in different variations."

Again, he seems to have said something that gives the stranger pause, her footsteps not faltering, but perhaps growing a touch less certain for a moment. There is the suggestion that she might turn her head to glance back at him, though she does not.

"Tragically for you," she says, clearly not finding it tragic in the least, "I do not carry about 'snacks' like some sergeant of mewling frontline brats. Why were you in such a place? Did you create it, or come across a creation of another? Are such things common in your world?"

"I ended up inside of inadvertently..." He shrugs. It's something he's had a lot of time to think about, honestly. And he doesn't seem to mind the bit of acidity she hands out to him as he follows.

Maybe he's used to it.

"But basically a witch created it. And... I'm not sure how common they are. The witches involved seemed to talk about it like they'd done it before."

"Assume, for the sake of saving time, that I wish you to explain your world to me as if I do not know it," she says, with a stress that falls more heavily on her own lack of knowledge than anything to do with him, the frustration of a person who is used to being the one who knows things, and not the one who asks them of others.

But a shard to which he was transported without intending to travel there, a place of altered rules. She takes hold of the concept, turns it over for examination. The parallels are obvious; whether they are meaningful remains to be seen.

"What is the distinction between a witch and a sorceror, if any? Are they allies, or at odds?"

"As far as I know, it's just a difference in title - witches are women. Sorcerers are men. The powers that each wields isn't too different, at least from what I can tell... I inherited them from the witch who ran the board before I did," Battler explains, "It's... based on belief, a lot of it. On the idea of what magic is and what it can do. The shard itself is... a couple of days on one island in a particular time and place. But the power that's there - it's very real."

A bench does obligingly present itself, as she predicted. She sweeps along to and sits, tucking her cloak's edges neatly around herself with ease of long practice, in the shadow of a mouldering, empty-windowed ruined house. She makes sure to perch herself at the absolute end of one side, so as to encourage distance between them, though who knows what the boy will make of it.

"What a ridiculous distinction," she tuts, "But yes. Tell me about this 'power'. What are these witches doing with these shards - and what were you doing in them?"

Battler settles on the bench alongside her and makes himself comfortable, despite the rather gloomy surroundings. This is just fine, right? He stretches his legs out, taking up space.

"They play games," he replies with a sigh, "Games with people's lives, because they're bored and they want something to do. They run through scenarios over and over again, because it amuses them. Because they like to see people suffer. I was one of the playing pieces for a while... and then became a master of my particular board."

"Tch!"

A fierce, derisive exclamation at the notion of playing games, even as she primly scoots a half inch to the side, which leaves her precariously poised at the edge of tipping over off the bench. She won't, of course, too rigid and stiff to ever do something so undignified.

"What a pointless waste of time," she articulates, with a sniff, "I have never had any patience for such useless diversions. Is that what you did, with your mastery? No - you don't seem the type. What did you do with it, then?"

"I wanted to try and keep my family safe with it," he admits with a shrug, "And part of doing that was playing along with the witches' game, at least for a little while. So I did do a bit of a diversion... although I found it was more serious than you let on. They were playing with people's lives after all..."

He purses his lips and gives her a look. He's not sure he cares for how dismissive she is.

"Which is pathetic, and tawdry," Woe snips, her lip curling in distaste, "Making a game of tormenting your lessers, for no purpose but amusement - I always say, if you must be cruel, be cruel with purpose."

She is often cruel, and she has often derived her own satisfaction from her cruelty, but she always endeavors to have a point to it. It is a sign of poor character to be a petty monster. She has always striven to be a grand one.

"Let us circle back to these powers. How did you keep your family safe, then? What method, to what end?"

"I don't see much point in most cruelty," he responds with a shrug. A bit pointed, perhaps, but she's already been pretty acidic, so it isn't as if she can't take it.

"I took control of the game board. I made it my own. And I kept those of us in the catbox from being annihilated, because that was what I could do with the power I had on hand. I wasn't powerful enough to take them out of it - not with the other two witches watching - so I tried to use what I could to make them comfortable."

Battler is right. She scrunches her nose like balled up paper, but otherwise does not react to his first remark in favor of listening attentively to his explanation. Her stormy reddish-brown eyes are wide and fixated, lit by angled light enough to draw out their uncanny coloring.

"And you haven't tried the same here," she says, thoughtfully, dragging her thumbnail across a seam of her cloak, "We'll see about that. Go on. Try to alter something."

She lifts her hand and makes a little 'hurry up' gesture, in case he needs more encouragement than that.

"Try to alter something, huh?" He scrunches his face up a bit as he thinks. He doesn't want to use any of the truths right now - and he can't think of anything that he'd use them on anyway. Maybe one of Beatrice's old bits of magic? After a long moment of thought, he snaps his fingers and sweeps his hand and manages to conjure up a flutter of golden butterflies that dance around them.

It's nothing fancy.

But it is something.

Woe freezes as the butterflies take flight, her body locking up in repression of the pink smoke that wends its way from her chest and joins them in joyous whirls and dips, a peach-colored butterfly Omen at play among her seeming golden sisters.

"Yes," she says, clipped and sharp, watching her Omen frolic with a deeply unhappy set to her mouth, "Suggestive. You may end the demonstration."

She digs the thumbnail of one hand into the palm of the other, expression shifting to one of troubled thought, working at a problem like a wiggling tooth.

Well, he's kinda proud of himself. He leans back with a smirk.

"Well? What do you think?"

He may or may not be surprised by the response.

"I think it was a proof of concept," she snips, squinting at a point across the street of apparent great interest. "Not a particularly helpful one."

It's an unnecessary harshness, but she doesn't see it as hypocrisy from her words before about cruelty. She has a point to this, and it is pushing the image of butterflies as far from her as she can, their mimicry intolerable.

"Do you know how you would have gone about removing yourself from your 'catbox'? Or are lightshows all you can manage?"

"...that's a tough question," Battler admits and leans back in his seat, considering it, "...I had a way of sort of removing us. Of putting us into a place away from it, but it would involve removing us from the world entirely. We'd be safe, but... not able to reenter the ongoing timeline. It's... complicated."

Battler frowns.

"Magic has rules, even if it's magic."

"Of course magic has rules," she scoffs, prickling all over like an irritable hedgehog. It's a poor cover for her frustrated disappointment. Of course it wouldn't be so easy - nothing ever is.

"Still. There could be something to it - tell me, how stable are your constructs? What energy do you draw on to fuel them? Do they self-sustain, or require your continued attention?"

He doesn't know any of the terminology she does, but that's all right. She was there when it was all invented; she can do it again, if she has to, as loathsome as the effort is.

"I usually don't have to put too much energy into them," Battler shrugs, "They exist once I put them into the world - although if I'm gone for too long, it's possible they might fade away, too... but generally just people believing in their existence is enough once they get going," Battler seems happy to share some of his information. Although it's possible he shouldn't honestly.

Still, he's already doing it. Can't stop now.

"The energy... the energy is belief. In people thinking that it will happen. That's pretty much it."

It isn't information Woe can see a use for. It also isn't information that seems to make her very happy, although that's no deviation from the established pattern. She tugs her cloak even tighter around herself, like an overpinched dumpling, matching the crimped seam of her mouth.

"So you don't know. Of course not." She closes her eyes and draws a sharp breath in through her nose, tipping her head back. "Bleck."

She says it with minimal, snipped inflection, as if that's an unremarkable thing to say.

"It's not to be helped. You're not to blame. Lay practitioners - always a few, however you try to educate, and not a soul did for you, did they?"

"Don't tell me I don't know if you don't like the answer," he replies with a little smile, "It's belief. Believing in magic is what makes it work. That's how it is where I'm from, anyway. If you don't believe, it'll never work, no matter how hard you try."

Which is not a satisfying answer, he's aware, but it's not supposed to be.

"But I had to figure it out mostly on my own. With a little bit of help from Beato's furniture."

"Of course you must believe, but you must also believe in your ability to stretch out a hand and pick up a glass of water - but belief is the motive force, not the instrument itself." Her voice has the air of someone who has had an argument like this before, more than once, and is already very tired of it.

"I know I am going to regret asking this," she adds, with clear and pronounced suffering, turning her eyes to the heavens, "But how did the furniture of who or whatever a Beato is assist you?"

he ate my heart

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