acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (03)
Mercymorn the First ([personal profile] acidjail) wrote in [community profile] deercountry2022-10-06 03:30 pm

wolves in the middle of town | october catch-all

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

terriblepurpose: (116)

cw: burns

[personal profile] terriblepurpose 2022-11-28 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
[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.
justoscar: (wizard)

cw: burns

[personal profile] justoscar 2022-11-28 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
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.
Edited 2022-11-28 01:09 (UTC)
terriblepurpose: (024)

cw: burns

[personal profile] terriblepurpose 2022-12-03 10:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[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.]