deercountry | Few Regrets (Open)

Entry tags:

Few Regrets (Open)

Who: Reaper (

no_reload) & Open
What: Post-death recovery & November catch-all
When: Month of November
Where: In & Around Disaster House

Content Warnings: Will add as they come up.

I. Squid Games

The remains of his body had fully inked and become crystallized. Then the smoke filled crystals cracked, shattered and broke apart to reveal a palm-sized squid that shook off bits of crystal and remaining ink. The black bloody ink did begin to resorb into the squid which seemed momentarily disoriented.

Then it lifted four tentacles and gave a soft hissing squeak to whomever happened to be close by. Another squeak and wiggling tentacles that clearly meant to be indication for picking up.

While he couldn’t communicate with words, Reaper was small enough and determined enough to be close to anyone. He would attempt to cling to feet or legs, and sometimes that meant the risk of getting under foot.

At other times, he would somehow clamber onto raised parts of furniture whether it was a table leg, couch arm or even a shoe and lift two tentacles to the air and wait for someone to pass by before trying to attach himself for a free ride to leg or hand.

II. Bedrest

Since leaving the squid state, Reaper had had a hell of a time adjusting back to his body. He had mostly confined himself to his bedroom, a place he hardly used as anything other than storage previously. Now he was there most of the time, sequestered to the bed as he didn’t have the available energy yet to perform his usual household activities.

After all, breathing was a laboured effort; that’s probably what was supposed to happen when one’s lungs had been vaporized. He could be found in his bedroom, sitting up to make breathing easier and clad in black track pants and a oversized black hoodie where the hood was constantly pulled up over his head, obscuring his bare and scarred face with shadow. The white of his goatee was the most obvious aspect of him to be seen.

"…death has always provided a reset, but you haven’t invested time to knowing how blood effects your abilities either. That was stupid of you…"

Reaper grunted softly as if replying to the scolding and exasperated Irish female voice that happened to be coming from a small laptop-sized device next to him on his bed. His bare hand with its blackened dead looking fingers reached out and patted the device as if he were trying to pat the Irish voice on the shoulder.

"I have this pain again." His voice was strained, nearly breathless.

"Expected. You died, Reyes. You will cope as you did before," the voice said with a touch of exasperation.

"Analysis on point, as always," he remarked with a soft nearly whimsical sigh that turned to a wheeze.

The voice was quiet, a reminder that the person behind it wasn’t actually here in Trench. That old friend had returned to their world and had never returned. He turned the medical device off with press of a button and leaned his head back against the headboard, shifting his weight as if unable to find a comfortable spot to sit in.

Then his chin tipped his head down again. "I know you’re out there."

III. Slow and Steady

Thankfully, the month so far had seemed calm and with little to no effects. He was slow to move around the house, less willing to take up some of his normal activities. He technically was the only adult in the house and that came with certain responsibilities he hadn’t been able to get back into. For one, he tired far too easily, like he was far older than he actually was. Or maybe this was how those of the SEP went out… tired, alone and shuffling around.

He spent much of his time in the house, but sometimes he wanted a chance of scenery. He was ease his way out of the house and seat himself on the ground or on a step. If he was having a particularly good day, he could get himself up to one of the edges of roof and seat himself there, legs dangling.

As soon as he went outside, his Omen, Wraith, would immediately appear. The black peacock would make a show of preening and walking around, shuffling long detailed tail feathers and issuing a low mournful swan song that was not normal for peacocks. Always, the Omen would be on high alert, never staying particularly close to him but clearly on guard to anyone who might know what to look for.

"Careful, his bite is as pathetic as his bark," he rumbled softly to anyone that might stop by to have a look or even appear from the house.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As she was making her way towards his home, some of the damage was visible, but a lot of it was already taken care of. When the battle hadn't done significant structural damage, it was really just a matter of cleanup and lost product.

"As much as I want to recommend you use the Gate more for the purpose of getting it out of your system, that was part of the problem here." She shook her head. "Whenever something gets into our head, not everyone is skilled at controlling lethal urges. It's a miracle this hasn't happened before now. I'm not sure, but I think we should look into something to deal with the emotions. We need punching bags. Literally."

Reaper issued a squeak of protest as if to say he had been using the Gate. It was a good place, and he had fought many times there. It was far more easily accessible than the Hair of the Dog and the Warehouse. In fact, he had died in the Gate.

He was watching the damage and the clean up efforts from his little bowl of water, some tentacles clinging to the edges so he could remain upright. He squeaked in agreement to the idea of punching bags, though he doubted that would stop some of the lethal encounters. Maybe if everyone took a turn being an adorable squid they would slow their roll.

Well, if anything, she meant more that she felt Maul needed the Gate more than Reaper. She actually trusted Reaper to not shoot people if they weren't earning it, though she wasn't sure to say that. Either way, they could do what was necessary to help Maul get it out of his system.

"My only concern is that I don't want to force his emotions. That's no solution. We just need to give that lad outlets for his aggression. It won't solve everything, and I doubt it would have stopped this..." A shake of her head. "Nothing could have stopped this. This was predictable when you died."

Maul needed a lot of things, but his lover often didn't consider that when on a mad quest for revenge. Besides, this little showing of destruction was endearing to him. That someone he was so close to would go this far because of him passing was not an experience that he had after all.

He squeaked in agreement, the smoke of his form churning with an accelerated pace. Water did wonders for convincing a squid to turn back human after all. He added another squeak that everyone should have seen this sort of destruction coming, and he supposed he should make more effort to not die in that case.

Somewhere deep down, if there weren't people rebuilding their lives or others screaming and running for the hills? She'd probably have agreed in part. there was something slightly romantic to it all. She looked down at the smoke curling around him and splashed a little water on him.

"I have no idea what you're squeaking about, old friend. You had best get back to transforming into smoke and creating fake clothes for yourself sometime soon. this is quite fun, but at the same time, you're far too adorable a conversationalist to be believably yourself," she teased. "Do you know? I believe most of them don't realize you're basically naked almost all the time and that your clothes are a fabrication? the horror if I ever told them."

He offered an oddly more cheerful squeak when he was splashed with water, leaving the side to occupy the middle of the bowl. He bunkered down so he was also more immersed. It was true that, unless he couldn't use his powers, he was basically naked. Smoke and mirrors and all that.

He made a cute show of rubbing his tentacles over his head, splashing some water around on himself before the smoke grew and grew, and within a thirty second span, he went from an adorable squid in a bowl of water to a naked old guy sitting on the ground, disoriented and wavering.

She needed to stop discovering him like this!

"Well well, what do we have here?" she said as the smoke finally stopped. Vira-Lorr pulled her coat off and wrapped him in it, helping him to his feet. She was cold, but they could get him inside quickly like this. "We should get you inside. We're not far from your place, I think, squidsy. And you're going to want to rest a day at least." Probably no more than that, and she knew it.

"We need to stop meeting like this... you've seen me naked so many times and I can't say I have received the same from you," he remarked with some difficulty, adjusting to his new body. His hand grasped Vira's coat, pulling it around him even if he wasn't cold. He did not enjoy being exposed, yet he was getting used to it.

He struggled to rise, leaning heavily on her when he did and breathing hard. "I'm fine... just a little disoriented." His legs were trembling already, but he'd make the journey. Too bad he couldn't just smoke his way there.

"You just weren't fast enough on the beach. Quite a few people got that view," she said, winking at him with a smarmy little grin on her face while she helped him get covered and started to move them in the direction of his home, offering an arm to help.

"That's... normal. It's the one thing that's common to before. A day from hell. A rough week, and then normal again. We're not sure if it gets worse. No trying to find out you." Maul would kill her.

"I was very new to going from squid to human body," he complained and shook his head at the sight of her grin. Of course she was going to enjoy this, as she should. If the shoe was on the other foot, he would definitely be enjoying himself.

"It's not as bad as being stuck as regenerating smoke for a week puking myself inside out," he reminded her. He had not had a good time for his death flu. "If I have to be an adorable squid everyone wants to put bells on, I will definitely be willing to find out how far the rabbit hole death goes here." Of course, he hadn't thought of Maul just yet. Soon.

"A marked improvement of having you in a bottle to shake around while I try not to laugh," she admitted, grinning over at him. "It's still bad, because anything that cause this kind of stress is a problem. And I would absolutely recommend that you don't. Just remember what happened the last time you died before this. It took you months to remember your name."

And that he wasn't flirting with her. Her face might have had a fraction of scarlet as she remembered that. He was so bad about that when he lost his memories.

"Moira was very fond of shaking the container I was in," he remarked dryly. In her defense, he had deserved every shake that he had received. Vira had been nicer when it came to dealing with him. "It feels different from my usual regeneration. Like I'm adjusting to something new and whole." He hadn't experienced that before because he technically had never wholly died like everyone else. "I recall... and I seem to recall that I'm notoriously flirty when I don't know who I am."

He had to slow a bit to give his legs a few moments to regain some of their strength. He didn't dare dissolve to smoke in case he was stuck like that. He noted her flushed state and he shook his head. "Do you need me to flirt with you for this to feel normal for us?"

"She was, and so was Chloe I believe," she admitted. But Chloe was an imp, so that was like calling water wet wasn't it? She shook her head and laughed. "Does it feel like you're going through the moment you turned into your body again from being a squid before? I have a feeling it might be related."

She cleared her throat, blushing a little more and patting his chest. "Reaper, one of these days, I am going to kick you around, you know that?" she said, her tone mild, relieved, even bemused. "You are an incorrigible flirt sometimes, you know that?" No, he really wasn't. Just with her and Maul.

"Yes well, Chloe was a given, though she did let me live under her bed. That was a horror show," he remarked with a growl and a shake of his head that sent his bangs into his eyes. This was why he shaved his hair off in the past. "Yes and no. There's similar incoordination, but it feels like my lungs don't work properly." Maybe because they had taken the brunt of Lance's damage.

He snorted in amusement, leaning in her even more heavily for effect. "Don't make promises like that because I might want you to." Kick him around, he meant. He had a soft spot for those he flirted with shoving back at him. "Only when I don't have memories apparently."

"So, you were the monster under her bed for a while? I could see that," she murmured, half laughing at the thought. "Why was it so horrific, though? I mean, the worst thaty you saw was the mess and all of her gummies." she nodded at his explanation. that would... probably have to do with how he died, though.

She smirked and winked at him. "Doesn't hurt that we're both spoken for and happy with it at this point, but there are those times when we can't seem to remember who we are. Strange how we gravitate when that happens. I swear you like three eyed women."

"I was, yes. I don't think she knew what else to do with a smoke monster, and it worked out fine," he remarked. "She's a mess, her room was a mess, and there were crumbs and weed everywhere." This was coming from someone who was painfully tidy with his own room, down to military precision of the bed corners. Living in Chloe's room was opposite to how he lived.

He hummed in agreement. He was looking forward to seeing Maul, even if he knew any reaction towards him would be over the top. "I expect Maul to shake me at the very least," he remarked before snorting at her assessment. "I like interesting and attractive women, and the third eye doesn't hurt your case when I can't remember who I am. Besides, I haven't forgotten we have a connection... it just gets screwed up on how deep it goes without memories."

"Oh... now that I think about it. You only put up with horrendous messes when you're diving into some ruined structure to get information don't you? So you were trapped in the filth for a bit. Hah. She was... definitely not tidy." She fidgeted. How many still remembered Chloe? Probably quite a few.

"At the absolute least. He may hit you. Rather hard." She shook her head. Her arm tightened a little. "We do have one, Reaper. Perhaps, had things been different, it would have been a different connection. I think... the best of friends can be like that at times. Perhaps the connection's just deep enough that we don't' really need to remember each other to know each other? I daresay, you almost sound spiritual there."

"I will put up with terrible disgusting messes where I fight, feed and flit about, but my living quarters tend to be... clean." To say the least. Chloe had taken him in, so he couldn't complain and he valued that time now than he ever did back then. "She lived in a pig sty, but... that's how she operated. I cleaned her room before I left." Because of course he did.

"Probably in the face," he agreed. "Or the stomach. It depends if we're both standing or sitting, I suppose." He wouldn't deny Maul that either because the Zabrak was deeply passionate about those considered close. He still found it endearing. He tightened his arm on her in a friendly gesture, though he pretended it wasn't so with a fake stumble. He knew she'd figure it out. "Perhaps. I was a rougher person when we first met, and we were both disasters in our own way. This friendship... I value it. I haven't had one like it since..." he trailed off. He didn't enjoy talking about the past. Still. "Not since Jack and Ana."

"And she almost certainly gave you hell about having done that because she couldn't find anything." Because as he said, that was how she operated. She sighed and shook her head.

"Oh, despite my teasing, you're still quite rough around the edges, and we are definitely both still disasters, old friend. I value it as well." She raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him. "You... never mentioned them before. I'd be curious, but perhaps when you are ready. You know I don't like to force." Mostly because she'd learned not to force.

"That was half the reason that I did it." So Chloe would be annoyed with him. So that she would have something to remember him by when he stepped away from her version of hospitality. It was a shame that she had gone back to that misery of her life, but there was no point crying over spilt milk. "She's probably dead now." Wasn't that how all of their stories would end?

"You find rough around the edges interesting," he remarked. Vira was his oldest friend since leaving his world and probably one of the few that had stuck with him no matter what stupid stuff he did. "We were in the First Omnic War together and three of the original chosen for starting Overwatch, a global intranation military organization to fight the war." He didn't talk much about them, and it was uncomfortable doing it now. "Jack and I were in the program that made us super-human physically. Ana was an Egyptian sniper. We fought many battles together."

She snickered. Yeah, that would be a reason to ... And he said it. Her fingers gripped and she swallowed hard. "I... know. I know she probably is. I'm trying not to think about it. we all die. I've lost people I care about, but I didn't want that for her." She shook her head. "I'm still allowed to hope, even if I know it's probably futile."

She gave him a sigh and shook her head out of that fog. Best not to think too long on it. "Ah. I see. Back in the halcyon days, before everything went horribly wrong," she said, nodding a bit. "And so... there's still a place there, even if it's one that comes with a lot of bitterness." She didn't know the particulars, and her tone said she wasn't asking, just confirming that the memory was bittersweet.

Reaper knew that it would be a sore subject for Vira. He hadn't meant to say it so bluntly, but there it was. He and Chloe had spoken often of the inevitability of her situation, and they had understood one another for it. "Well... most of us die," he pointed out softly. He and Vira were still going strong despite repeated pitfalls in Deerington. "Neither did I. She might have been a little shit, but she deserved a longer life."

He nodded his head as they walked, and he tried to ease some of his weight off of her and stare off towards the house where familiar streets were coming into view. "Yeah, before Ana faked her own death but still took a bullet to the face, and before a building literally fell on Jack and I." When things had been better than those final years. "People can only carry the world on their shoulders for so long."

She had spoken with her too. It was just... she was too young. It hadn't been fair. "Most of us do," she agreed softly and shook her head. "But maybe she will be back someday and we can torment the hell out of her while we extend it a little." She was beginning to doubt that, but she still hoped.

"Oof. You three didn't do things small did you?" A shake of the head, and she managed a small smile over at him. "You're not wrong, though. Eventually someone has to take over. It all goes to hell if it's always the same one saving everyone."

He inclined his head to look at Vira, and it struck him that he did actually have the faintest hope that Chloe would return. He doubted she would remember any of them, and that would be worse than her being dead. "Perhaps. You can hope for such a day to pass."

Looking back on it, they were kind of ridiculous. "No, we were leads on a global military and peacekeeping force. Do you think that kind of person goes small for anything?" He sighed and scrubbed his face with the heel of his hand. "Since coming to Deerington, I've been out of the game. It's not a responsibility that I want... but sometimes, it feel easier if it was me."

Vira-Lorr would soon have a similar experience with Chara. It was like a knife stabbed in, but it was something she had learned to deal with. "We will see. I will hope meanwhile," she murmured.

"I think both you and I did share that bit. We're too used to saving the world, or putting it all on our shoulders. Once you're there long enough, it's the life you know. You don't really ever completely retire, do you?" It was as much an admission as she was willing to give that her 'retirement' was only from active duty. She'd grab her gun just as readily if you put a crisis in front of her. That'd never stop. "But it isn't so bad to be a little out of the game. It's such an exhausting game isn't it?"

Few Regrets (Open)

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