wolves in the middle of town | october catch-all

[acidjail]

Who: Mercymorn the First, Paul Atreides, and you
What: October catch-all, open and closed prompts
When: Throughout October
Where: Various locations in Trench

Content Warnings: Depression, suicidal ideation (passive), body horror, memory loss

Comments

[justoscar]

[Diggs trembled against Oscar's body, little ears pressed tightly against it's head while Oscar scooped them into his arms. He struggled to stand with only one hand, prosthetic leg not cooperating with him as well in the sand as it would have on solid ground. ]

-- I'm not lying!

[Oscar snapped, an uncommon bite in his tone while he vainly searched for the pool of magic that was no longer within his reach. Gritting his teeth, he stumbled forward in an effort to simply regain his balance-- ]

It's no you I'm worried about stuff that! I just don't want to see how many times Chara is going to stab John if something happens to you. I don't want to see Midoriya get himself into the hospital. Again. I don't want to see what Kaworu will do if someone else falls right in front of him.

[Uncertainty beat an unsteady tempo in his chest while the tumult of his own and Paul's roiling emotions buzzed against his self control. Panic clenched at him-- and-- ]

I believe what you're saying, but I also believed that you understood why the book was dangerous and why I told you we needed to get rid of it. I'm worried about you, Paul. I wouldn't have stuck around for six months if I didn't trust and worry about you.

But--

[Holding his Omen tightly, he took an unsteady step forward-- ]

I'm scared for you, Paul. And--

[-- and his words left him with a gasp as he felt the prosthesis get stuck in the thick, wet sand and give way. Unable to catch himself, he pitched forward. ]

cw: referenced self-harm

[terriblepurpose]

[Oscar's voice competes with the whispers of flame in Paul's ears as he paints his vision of the future for Paul like Paul hasn't seen it, hasn't woken up shaking like a reed in a storm with it, hasn't dug welling half-moons into his palms and his knees and the inside of his arms with his nails to dispel the ghosts of possibility.

He should be fair. He knows he should. Oscar is afraid for him. It isn't his fault that he doesn't understand. That he thinks so little of Paul. It isn't as though Paul hasn't given him reason to.

But there's a wound slit in him invisible to the eye (not like her) that bleeds black and cold as the void, and the fire in his veins doesn't warm. It only burns.]

You've always think you know better than I-

[He draws out the words like a knife, and he would wield them that way, if he had time. If Oscar didn't stumble as Paul's rage built and built and built into a towering column, into the monstrous engine he knows better than anyone else, no matter what they think they understand.

The fire lances out towards Oscar's tumbling body like a spear, and Paul lurches backward too late, scrabbling at the frayed edges of his control to call it back, call it back -]

cw: burns, torture reference, child endangerment.

[justoscar]

[The crush of cold sand met the exposed flesh of his face and body while Paul pulled back on the flames-- just a heartbeat too late. The smell of singed cloth and something else joined the sea spray as smoke spiraled up around him from the parts of his person that were closest to Paul. Oscar sucked in a gasping breathe when the burning pain finally registered in his adrenaline addled mind-- up and down his exposed arm, in a sensation that was different from the magical lightning injury he had sustained before. He wanted to pass out-- he wanted to flee--

He bit his lip and made to stand instead, but the sheer weight of something stopped his movement.

Oscar looked up, and was met with the sight of his Omen in their fully realized form. Diggs had squirmed out of his arms when Oscar fell. With their wings flared outward with a shimmering green glow not unlike Oscar's aura, Diggs stood over him... No longer in the size of a bird but a full grown stag, head bowed and ready to charge if need be.

'Stay down this time,' they said in a mental voice to Oscar. 'You keep forgetting that you're not alone.'

Oscar sighed and, gripping at his arm, relented.]

I know. [He said in a hoarse, defeated tone.

To the both of them.]

I guess we're not so different... And I've really failed my job.

cw: burns

[terriblepurpose]

[If Oscar was difficult to hear before, he is nearly impossible now. He keeps moving backwards, eyes shocked wide and hands curled into fists not in aggression, but to crush the searing pain in his palms.]

You need to go.

[There's nothing Paul can do to help him. Even if he could get close enough to touch the other boy without causing more damage, he doesn't even have a first aid kit to speak of, let alone any of the more sophisticated treatments Oscar will require.

It's just like he thought it would be. It's exactly what he warned Oscar about, and now here they are, because Paul lacked the will to walk away in the first place when he knew how recklessly determined the farm boy can be.]

Call Ruby. Tell her to come get you, or I will.

cw: burns

[justoscar]

Days before her wedding? I don't think so.

[Paul didn't know half of how stubborn Oscar could be, or the lengths he was willing to go. Out of all of his household, perhaps only Midoriya had a clue. After all, he had put himself in harm's way and earned the respect of some forest beasts on the sake of a bluff and making an opening.

Pulling himself upright, he carefully relied on Diggs' support to stand -- and recalled the feelings and unspoken memories of his forebears for guidance. He stood a little too straight, his shoulders squared and steady while he fought with himself to not show an inch of leeway.

If his shadow seemed a little taller than his soft farmboy soul, it must have been a trick of the glimmers of his Aura. But--

Paul wasn't the only one with a lineage of god-kings.]

Promise me you'll get rid of it.

[If the voice that Paul had imagined from the anonymous wizard on the network seemed cold, them the voice that carried across the distance between them was colder still... And too worn from generations of suffering to belong to just a mere farmhand.

Once upon a time, a man with two souls was given a crown to wear. With it's weight heavy upon his brow, he saw visions of the results of a choice that he had yet to make-- and the truth of an unknown future had driven him mad,

This time, the man with two souls was not wearing a crown, but the Omen's antlers and wings glowing behind him were nearly as valorous as the Relic which remained outside of Trench and hidden beyond his memory's reach.

Oscar took a breath, quietly grasping the hands of both his fear and his fury. Diggs's presence was a comfort, but the intercollected souls of the Others, whose faces he didn't know but whose memories he could see, helped him find the words he needed to combat the stubbornness that was certain to come. ]

The book, Paul. Burn it. Destroy it. Throw it out to the sea-- I don't care, but Get Rid Of It.

Promise me that. Give me your word on the honor of your ancestors that you'll do that, and I'll get help for that which you cannot fix.

cw: burns

[terriblepurpose]

[Paul stares at Oscar and his glorious unfurled Omen. They make for a noble image, like heraldry brought to life and flooded with the ichor of myth. His luminous purity gleams against the horrible blooming light from Paul that never seems to illuminate, but only casts long and twisting shadows, writhing like bodies alight.

The frantic concern that animated his body drains away. He straightens as Oscar does, but with more grace, untroubled by injury. He is a wretch in ragged clothes stained with ash and his feet bare on black sand, but his stance forgets this.

Behind his head the fire arcs in seven glowing discs, forming one after another like a malign flower blooming. His Omen opens her mouth ringed with ten thousand teeth like curved needle, the blackness of her throat darker than the blackness she is made of.]

You know nothing of the honour of my ancestors.

[The cold is as absolute as the flame.]

I give you my word, for all that you spit on it, and I will give you a warning, for all that you don't heed them.

Never attempt to hold yourself hostage against me again. I am not threatened by a knife you put against your own neck.

[He touches his Omen's side. An unspoken signal passes between them, and they turn in unison to walk away from Oscar and Diggs, towards the tall grey cliffs much farther down the beach.]