Reaper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
no_reload) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2021-11-02 10:09 pm
no_reload) wrote in deercountry2021-11-02 10:09 pm
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.
no_reload) & OpenWhat: Post-death recovery & November catch-all
When: Month of November
Where: In & Around Disaster House
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.
no subject
Yes, Reaper, yes it does. He doesn't care for it at all. But Reaper was correct there, Varian would never cross any boundaries set out for him here- he doesn't want any of this to be painful for the man.
"Great! Once you're starting to feel better, I'll make sure to clear time for you to take priority."
Because this was important. It concerns the health of a family member, so it gets bumped up his list.
no subject
At least he knew that he was correct on that. Teenagers needed to be whiny now so that when they became adults they would hopefully whine less. And then they would be annoyed at themselves far later in life when also dealing with a whiny teenager. It was the cycle they all went through.
"Varian, it's not that much of a priority. My condition seems stable, so whenever you have time."
He was perfectly content pushing the boundaries of his own condition; he'd been doing it for years. What could possibly go more wrong?
no subject
Because that's obviously going to sway Reaper's opinion in this, obviously. Varian's hitting eighteen in a few months, Reaper better not be holding his breath that the whining is gonna stop anytime soon.
"I disagree," he replies, stubborn as always. "You're a priority to me, so I'm gonna treat you as one."
So much could go wrong, he doesn't trust this world at all.
no subject
This was literally all the wrong ways to talk to a teenager, and he was definitely doing it on purpose. It had been a long time since he could raz a teen and Varian happened to provide good reactions. It lifted his mood, especially being bed-ridden for now.
"Varian..." he trailed off and shook his head. Stubborn little bastard. "Fine, I've learned to not mess with science before."
no subject
Varian's good at falling right into teenage traps and being a great source of entertainment for all around him. But this- this is something he is stubbornly holding his ground on.
"Good. Thank you. "
no subject
The point was that Reaper was senior in the household, and that had to count for something. He sighed and leaned his head back a little, still shaking it. He knew better to contest too much when someone was going to insist. He had done that before and it just ended up hurting everyone involved.
Maybe age brought him some wisdom.
no subject
He very almost added Stan in there for good measure but it would be pretty generous to call what he and Stan do 'talking'.
no subject
He squinted for a moment. He was used to being the oldest looking, if not the oldest around. He didn't count Vira because she was ageless.
no subject
He's pretty sure Dipper mentioned that once.
no subject
He aged badly then. I'd put him closer to seventy.
[See, this is the benefits of genetic modification and a good Latino heritage. He ages very well.]
no subject
Wow, that's rude, he looks...fine.
no subject
[And if anyone considered how old Reaper might be, they would have to add about twenty-years and ho boy, that was real old.]
no subject
[There's a long pause.]
... Actually, I don't know how old you look. Like...do you look thirty or something?
[He's 17, 30 might as well be ANCIENT. ]
no subject
[Try doubling that, but he'd take the compliment now anyway.]
no subject
I genuinely don't know if you're being honest or sarcastic right now.
no subject
Can't I be both?
no subject
Ugh, I guess you could be. You probably would if you were allowed to or not.