deercountry | yes I knew it was no moonshine, it is real

[FIST PUMP INTO THE AIR AND A CRY OF

well, it's a cat version of "fuck i have dropped the meatstick because i have opened my mouth too wide"

huge nod as she retrieves the stick. five second rule. for them it's closer to five minute rule.]

(instead of freaking out, being relieved, or getting upset, instead jinx flops right back on the couch and drapes her arm over her eyes.)

I'm havin' a freak out mind stuff again, am I?

(because her being a cat is definitely some hallucination nonsense. or maybe it's not too far fetch considering they can resort to a squid at any given moment.)

[the HUGEST commiserating eyeroll at "blood shit".]

See? Spoken like a true trencher--

--ugh--trenchie. Sleeper, whatever. Welcome to club "blood shit". It's a ride, but not the cool kind, like at the park. Blood shit, or "stuff that blows about this place 101" should have been in the book with the map.

[she comes out from her station, dragging her own chair with her to place it in range of the one he's taken. everyone looks (or feels) terrible this month. sometimes it's a double barrel of both.

but she's genuinely happy to see these bright, crinkly bags, some with cheerful animals and almost every one bearing lots! of!! excitement!!! in its branding. hey, she's excited to paw through it, so where's the lie in that advertising. she has yet to find something she truly dislikes, foodwise. in his offerings and ...in trench itself.]

You bring any for yourself? If there's something you want to split, just say it before I open something.

"I got lucky last month" should not mean "my blood's kicking my ass this month".

[Maria's been back from the other Trench for a couple of days now and she's still exhausted, but she drags herself to the festivities anyway. Forcing herself to be up and about seems to help a little, strangely, and it's not as though she can just sit around for days and days.

She looks fairly out of place, not exactly one to join in carefree merriment, but she spots Vi and smiles as she makes her way over.]

You look slightly ridiculous. I like it.

[ It is a good laugh! It's just that all of Beatrice's laughs sound Like That. Sorry, Vi. She laughs again, covering her mouth with her hand in a show of being demure as Vi makes the little motion at her. Beatrice seems immensely pleased with that reaction and her eyes sparkle. ]

I do think, yes. Cats well suit pretty women, I think. And a death's head suits me.

[Oh, and that's an uncharacteristic amount of fussing from Vi, he thinks. Not that she's in any way not a fusser, in her way, but Palamedes has grown accustomed to a certain level of busybodying from his social circle and this is spiking above that, while she darts around to get furniture and pillows.

Really, it's not that bad... but he won't complain, sinking gratefully into the chair - and ah? Putting up his feet, too? Sure.]

A lamp. You don't have to worry about me, I assure you; necromancers are not known for our robust physicality.

[Which, like, he hears it, that sounds worrying in itself, so as he holds up a hand to Explain,] I look worse than I actually am, promise. It's the blood acting up, that's all.

[He's always been far too thin and prone to getting winded on the stairs, so the darkblood aches simply make his existing physical detriments... overt. He's dealing.]

Well, how are you doing, anyway?

[ He shakes his head, waves a hand with the 'Have it' he says to the foods. Some people like stuffing their faces when they're annoyed, antsy, pissed off with life and whatever else they can find to be pissed off by, but Robby's never been the type. Never had the food for it, and even now, he isn't in the mood. He's got his arms close to crossed, except for the one that he's using to rub at the other, like he's got an annoying rash under the sleeve. ]

Sleeper's the shittiest name I've ever heard. [ Because it is, and fuck it, he'd rather be called a trenchie any day of the week than a Sleeper. ] I try sleeping, and when I wake up, it's like my nerves are on fire. Every time I stop moving, my body's got another thing coming.

[ Even now, already, he's been tapping his foot against the floor. His folded arms trying not to move, tightening up to stop them, but even that shifting to prevent it is just another way of answering his body asks to twitch, twitch, move. ]

I don't even get anything useful out of it. People who tell me warmblood's as good as any other is full of shit.

[ And his mouth is full of the word shit today, too. ]

[vi is continually surprised by how malleable this cat body is - she is both a liquid and a solid, able to punch the air, and twist backbendingly to bat at her own tail (distracting), only to return to punch again before blinking, and nodding very seriously.

she sniffs at the air and makes a little trill before attempting to climb into scorpia's arms again.

'hello, this cat body i am residing in prefers blood, and since i know you're not a vileblood, might i have some' is not even something she wants to ask. would she be able to sniff out the vilebloods the way other batcats do? is her own blood still poison in this form? so many questions, and no way to know. she's not even sure if she can feed properly. she's seen visenya do it numerous times, but...?

the cat is having an existential crisis in your arms, friend.]

[yes, it's weird. how weird? well, not that weird for here, considering, yes: squids. but also: it was unintentional cat transformation. completely unplanned, not even wished for.

she wonders if telling visenya well, i wish i could just fly around all day, cuddle sleep and be cute had come with repercussions. re-purr-cussions? too bad, jinx, you have missed this cat rolling its eyes at the imagined bad pun.

if you do not respond to meat, thou shalt be given a drink instead. flying to the thermos of coffee, she hefts it up into her paws and places it next to jinx and headbutts her sister's knee. there. it's closer now. drink the wake-up liquid. drink any liquid. ]

(she takes a peek at her cat-like sister underneath her arm. but just because she now knows this is vi, it doesn't stop her from groaning in frustration.)

Alright, alright. Sheesh, you're just as annoyin' even like this.

(jinx sits right back up; grabbing both the meat and the liquid. mustering up all of her energy, she finally takes a bite of the food but chewing rather slowly.)

Yeah, yeah the blood shit. So tired of this. It's messing people up. It's messing me up to have to see it.

Well, you should be. That's the thing, right? Necromancers make deals with death, right? Cheat it, beat it, make friends with it, weave and dodge? I don't know how it all works, but it should come with some robustness.

And Trench can just ease up. First the books, and the river, and that whole other thing with the ritual to get out? This blood shit can go.

[alas. she is not able to talk it away. but. she doesn't answer yet. her only thought is:]

Do you want a blanket?

I've never made a deal with anyone, no. Being a necromancer is an innate condition I was born with, not unlike a high metabolism, but I won't bore you with my theories. A blanket would be nice.

[He supposes, anyway? A blanket won't make his joints hurt any less, but it seems like it will make Vi feel a little better, so yes: a blanket would be great.]

And— well, I didn't really go out, this past handful of weeks. What happened?

[vi tears open the bag of cheetos, deciding (unwittingly) to fight a battle with orange dust on this day of days. it won't do much to quell her anxiety, but it'll be a while until that truly rises again, thankfully. little spikes here and there can be dealt with.]

My sister got hit with the other one. Can't stay awake long enough to eat. Faceplanted in her food, and I was so worried I didn't even laugh. She didn't laugh either. Her omen's gotta brush her hair. [jinx has a lot of hair. that's a three person job, so yeah, she's been roped in. she doesn't mind ...except when she has to start over - rebrush, rebraid, because it just somehow must be ...wrong.]

Two things. One, did they tell you about beasts and pollution? Two, and bear with me, does the movement have to be big, or will anything work?

[vi keeps a fidget device at her station. works on nervous clients, jinx, and ...sometimes herself. she reaches for it as she pops another bright orange puff into her mouth, grinning as she chews. she does not notice the transfer of cheese dust on her fingers when she hands the small device to him. it's a bit like a wooden rubix cube, only there's nothing to match, it's just something to turn in a number of ways, none of them wrong.

and shit's a good word, especially lately.]

[it's not a far trek for a soft blanket, and she'll hand it to him after a pause - deciding that it's best if he arrange it himself in whatever way he likes - before she sits back down.]

Lots of people got isekai'd. That means "different worlded". Learned that one from Shoyo. These books appeared all over, handed out and stuff? Never Mind's idea of a group chat. So you're just reading one minute and the next you're reliving someone's worst memory. Or maybe third worst. Maybe you're them. Maybe you're just watching. Maybe you see something you shouldn't see and your brain goes all sideways and bam, corruption city and your sister's gotta come through and put your head on straight.

I did get to punch a king, though. He was a dick, and I got a cool sword out of it. I got a sword from another book, too. So I'm learning how to do that now. Surprised it missed you, since you're kinda a book guy.

[books > lessons > first aid > sidebar to conversation:]

Oh, remember that idea we tossed around? The packs that stay hot and stay cold? Well, I found someone that could do it, and I dunno if it'll help you, but I've got 'em on me if you'd like to try.

[Hm, that all sounds like fresh shit, and he makes a face that conveys as much while he arranges this blanket over his legs like the doddery old man that he is. See? Very helpful.]

You'll be shocked to discover I'm not compelled to pick up every book I encounter. Regardless: I was at home, with only my own shockingly ordinary reading material. Is it a nice sword?

[To this day he still knows nothing about swords. But books did not manifest in his home, which was nice, now that he knows they all sucked very much. Another point against Never Mind, who is a real piece of shit asshole with his shit-tier garbage Archive, seriously what's with that guy...

Anyway. With a disparaging look cast down at himself, he hums, uncertain.]

Doubtful it will fix my problem long term, but I'd love to see what you've got. And then you can answer my question and tell me how you're doing, now that I know what you've been up to.

[:) he didn't forget!!!]

[Scorpia is just fascinated by this cat and her antics. And now the little creature's getting right into her arms again! Her body might be cold to the touch due to her being a Coldblood, but she's wearing warm and cozy clothing with sleeves to help balance that out.]

Awww. Or are you just tired? [She gently rocks the cat in her arms in an attempt to relax it.]

Just take it easy! And I'll try to get you something to eat anyway. Hmmmm, food for cats... I wonder what Catra's favorite food would be?

[ Cats are okay, as animals go. Perhaps. She hasn't had many interactions with domestic cats. She's never had a pet, and she lived most of her life far from other people. The wild ones, though, the big ones that can tear your throat out? She has respect for those.

Maybe that's what will make it more bearable when she's turned into some sort of feline hybrid in the next few days. ]

Picked it 'cause it matches this little bastard.

[ A shadowy leopard manifests at her side, yowling crankily. ]

[ It doesn't sound like any blood type is having it easy this month, and falling asleep at a whim -- it sounds like what Mister LaRusso's got, where the guy can barely keep his eyes open the second he isn't doing anything. Like the opposite problem that Robby's been handed.

It makes him sympathetic, even though he already knew this wasn't just a him thing. Regardless, he's barely containing the desire to roll his eyes at Vi's first points (but he manages, good job), and the second point -- he'd answer, but she's moving, handing him something, and-- his brow creases, brain recognising it for what it is, but then figuring what to do with it.

Well, the obvious: making his hands click it lightly as he twists it. ...and then does it again. And then feel a little embarrassed, that this might be doing anything, but it's subdued his mood (or distracted it) when he speaks up again. ]

It doesn't make the pollution worse and helps bring people out of beasthood. Yeah- so I get to feel good about not adding to it while everyone else does. Cool. [ Yeah, really convincing. He's a Samaritan. He's also a guy who is definitely fiddling with that cube some more, watching as he does it, but stops for a moment when he spreads his arm out. ]

I can't even stop a beast or do anything right there about it -- you have to take it out and give it to the right people who know what they're doing to save someone. I can't do it -- I don't even get to heal people.

[ He doesn't even get that magical flex. He just gets to be the glorified blood bank, which is worth him bringing the rubix code back to (moodily) twist its pieces.

(Very moodily.) ]

[okay, so small movements? check. that's ...good, at least for now. the long term effects of having to move constantly sounds like it'll result in just as much pain the darkbloods seem to be having. the few that she knows, anyway. it's always a mixed bag of mild to middling to fucking terrible.

she has the presence of mind to pause cramming cheetos into her mouth while he speaks. not that she thinks he'd really mind too much, but it just seems a better option.]

Yeah, that part's a bummer. Look, I can't really run my mouth about the first part because I've got the advantage with poison, but even without it, I'd fight a beast. Might need backup, though. Talking 'em down is trickier, yeah. Maybe I could, maybe I couldn't. I'd probably have to take 'em to the Sanctuary, too.

I can't heal people, either. I've been learning first aid, though. Trying to get better at it, but it's the hard way. No magic, no blood shit. Except for the numbing, but I've gotta be real careful with that.

[and now a cheeto and a nod to the cube.]

That helping any?

[vi has never had a pet either - the undercity had its share of stray (and strange) animals - but prison? well, even the rats were few and far between, there.]

Somebody else got a mouthy bastard on Omen day? Here I thought it was ju----

[an outpour of dramatic smoke, and a dogwolf just giving vi the stinkeye.]

---oh, hey Fang.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜʏ. ᴘᴏᴛ, ᴋᴇᴛᴛʟᴇ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇᴛ.

[the cold feels nice, and it's easy for her to curl into herself, to fold her wings around her body should she need extra warmth, and vi tries very hard not to hook her claws into scorpia's clothing - sometimes they just come out - sometimes she just kneads at things. but not just now - now she's---

---oh, that rocking is nice, too. she lets out a little mrrow again, tilts her head up so that scorpia might see her fangs. they're a bit more pronounced than a regular cat's, but she doesn't expect that to be hint enough. so she adjusts, climbs, sniffs at the woman's shoulder, and then at her neck. scrunches up her face and licks at the exposed skin - waits to see if scorpia reacts - if it goes numb there.

she has just licked another sleeper's neck, and does not know how to feel about this. it's awkward. and her tummy rumbles loudly.]

[she hopes the blanket is helping, considers maybe getting a softer one, but instead reaches for a wooden fidget cube. the blanket is fine. it's soft. she's used it. the blue one won't fix anything, it's just blue.

the good thing about this wooden cube is that everything goes with everything and there's nothing to match up, so you don't need to even look at it to work it.]

I am shocked. Like, to the core. Do you see this face? Shock.

It's not bad. I can't tell if one's better than the other, though. Second one was kinda fun to get.

[she stops lining up squares as she talks, drops the cube in her lap and reaches into her belt, fumbling past the ointment, the small vileblood vial, an adhesive, and a yeah, okay there. two smooth, palm sized rocks, which she passes to palamedes, along with a lighter.]

If you pass a flame over them, they activate. And stay like that until they're deactivated.

I'm ...you know, this is harder when I'm not carrying around a cursed seahorse. Not great for a whole bunch of reasons. [fidget, fidget, click, click, click.] Better, for some others. Really trying to make things work with my sister. To make things better for her, you know?

O-oh. I should text her. Just to check in. But she's not...

Hold on.

Fang, please ask Mr. Bananas for an update on Jinx.

[she tilts her head, speaking to herself ...until the smoke comes and the wolfdog follows, looking at palamedes curiously before going still and following vi's instructions.]

This blood shit? I think it's making me nervous. I'm nervous about all this stuff I never worried about before, and the stuff from before is huge. I dream about it. I wake up thinking about it.

[is she? is she really? because she can be even more annoying if she tries. which she thinks about for a moment, smirking a little batcat smirk, the edges of her fangs visible and looking a bit smug for a moment, too.

she curls up on the couch, trilling back as she watches jinx take that bite. she is purring now.]

[wait, what. did beatrice just call her pretty?]

Well, if that's true, then you should be part cat, too, because you're definitely pretty.

[a side effect of cider: less of a filter than normal, which is a sliding scale of good and bad, but vi has an idea - this pretty woman should also be a cat.]

It does! But let's get you some cat ears to go with it, and then you can be both. [there was a woman handing them out not moments ago - ears and tails - but ears would be a great addition to the death's head mask, no?] Fuck rules. Two things!

[the other trench was ...something. something vi would rather not think about, is actively trying not to, but the fact that people are still disappearing? not great. it's one more twig on the bonfire of her anxieties, which ...wow, that's a pile. she'd rather direct her attention to the other bonfires, and to the fake ones on floats, behind the eyes of mock dragons and other beasts - behind curiously carved pumpkins.

vi smiles back, her little leather batwings bobbing as she raises her bottle.]

Ridiculous, huh?

[she is playfully affronted. how dare. ridiculous: it's what she was aiming for, mostly. trench has been playful lately, but not in the fun way. its tricks have been mean, and meaner still.]

Thanks.

Lemme guess: you're too cool for a costume?

[what she thinks but doesn't yet say: you look tired.]

yes I knew it was no moonshine, it is real

no subject

no subject

no subject

early october

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject