ange "the definition of chuunibyou" ushiromiya (
entreats) wrote in
deercountry2023-03-13 08:29 pm
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(open) you're looking at me like you don't know who i am
Who: Ange, Ruby, Break, and anyone who knows any of them.
What: Corruption turned Ange into a true Umineko witch who decided the best way to keep the people she loves safe from this town is to drag them into a pocket dimension.
When: For a while in March.
Where: Ange and Ruby's house-turned-small-pocket-dimension.
Content Warnings: Potential violence if anyone acts particularly antagonistic. Potential talk of violence or gore. Other warnings will be added when things pop up.


Perhaps you have seen Ruby's odd network post and decided to check things out. Or maybe you're just wandering around Trench and notice that Ange and Ruby's house suddenly looks.. different.
The house has been completely overgrown by way oversized roses, big thorns growing out of all the stems, completely obscuring the structure that's supposed to be underneath it. If you get close enough to the cluster of roses, you may feel your connection to any of the three people inside suddenly pull you in. (Please note: only people who know either Ange, Ruby or Break will be able to enter the pocket dimension because of this!)
If you give in to the sensation, everything around you might go black, and when the light returns, you seem to find yourself in.. a hedge maze. A rather odd one, though. As you stumble through it, you may suddenly find yourself in random rooms, and then back out of them into the hedge maze once more. The Moss King's wild plants seem to have even invaded corners of this place, so you might want to watch out you avoid having those snap at you. Retracing your steps through the labyrinth feels impossible, like the way is changing up behind you with every step. Some rooms make perfect sense - like a neat and elaborate kitchen, or a library - and others seem to consist of nonsense with stairs leading upside down or to nowhere, or gravity not working in a specific room at all.
Flying throughout the entire maze are golden butterflies. They seem to fly with direction, and if you follow them, you might find them leading you to one of the people you were looking for..
What: Corruption turned Ange into a true Umineko witch who decided the best way to keep the people she loves safe from this town is to drag them into a pocket dimension.
When: For a while in March.
Where: Ange and Ruby's house-turned-small-pocket-dimension.
Content Warnings: Potential violence if anyone acts particularly antagonistic. Potential talk of violence or gore. Other warnings will be added when things pop up.


Perhaps you have seen Ruby's odd network post and decided to check things out. Or maybe you're just wandering around Trench and notice that Ange and Ruby's house suddenly looks.. different.
The house has been completely overgrown by way oversized roses, big thorns growing out of all the stems, completely obscuring the structure that's supposed to be underneath it. If you get close enough to the cluster of roses, you may feel your connection to any of the three people inside suddenly pull you in. (Please note: only people who know either Ange, Ruby or Break will be able to enter the pocket dimension because of this!)
If you give in to the sensation, everything around you might go black, and when the light returns, you seem to find yourself in.. a hedge maze. A rather odd one, though. As you stumble through it, you may suddenly find yourself in random rooms, and then back out of them into the hedge maze once more. The Moss King's wild plants seem to have even invaded corners of this place, so you might want to watch out you avoid having those snap at you. Retracing your steps through the labyrinth feels impossible, like the way is changing up behind you with every step. Some rooms make perfect sense - like a neat and elaborate kitchen, or a library - and others seem to consist of nonsense with stairs leading upside down or to nowhere, or gravity not working in a specific room at all.
Flying throughout the entire maze are golden butterflies. They seem to fly with direction, and if you follow them, you might find them leading you to one of the people you were looking for..
teatime π΅
But this place is like a little dream. If he closes his eyes and breathes it in, he could almost relax here. When he opens them again, he feels pinpricks of anxiety at the corners of himself, like he knows he shouldn't stay here for long. Magic has always intimidated him, continues to, and this place bleeds the feel of it.... but at the center of everything is a trust in Ange Ushiromiya. Whatever this world is, if she's created it, if it's come from her spirit β it isn't something bad. Ruby's here too, another dear friend, the type that feels like family.
And then, of course, there'sβ Mister Break. Peter, channeling all of the wide-eyed lost wonder of Alice (but so much less of the storybook sweetness, considering his dark-circled, mournful wet eyes and the way his tongue randomly gives odd clipped cluck-sounds due to severe demonic possession) finds his way to that space with the black and purple roses, all fancy lace and ornamental, as though he's walking through swirls of filigree. Things move and dance on their own, and there's Break looking all the part of the maddest hatter...
Peter stares, both parts intimidated and impressed, blinking up as the man speaks without so much as glancing up. It all continues to feel like a dream. And Peter might stay frozen, except..... he does just have baubles on hand to offer, weirdly, thanks to a demon king with a magpie penchant for nicking any shiny things it can get its hands on. Said demon is delighted by every single thing about this (a magical teaparty!) and Peter is only maybe slightly himself as he reaches deep into the pocket of his coat to extract an antique earring. No matter that it lacks its partner; Paimon planned to break it apart and repurpose each tiny piece into something new. However, the request from Break is met with a need to provide, the demon more than thrilled to offer him Something Nice.....
And so Peter, wordlessly, and with eyes wide and pupils blown, looking like he's in some weird trance, slowly holds up the little trinket to the man, letting it drape over his palm. We're all mad here, right? )
no subject
So, in the past, he's been content to watch and wait, and see what is to be seen. Now, corrupt and comfortable within Ange's protection, Break's inhibitions are down. He is someone who, while in his right mind, once stared the man who had just revealed his past and could have easily had him executed right in the face and addressed him as "Duke Stupid Hair". For anyone who knows Break is like that anyway, probably it's no surprise that in his current state, all his tendency to bide his time flies out the window in the face of one overpowering urge:
Mess with him.
When Peter has come close enough, Break sets the hat aside and solemnly accepts the earring, as though it's an offering or a tribute to him as the master of this tea party. Then, he stares the boy directly in his wild eyes as he runs his fingers over it, carefully, taking in the shape and texture.]
Now, there's a usefulness I didn't expect from you, Young Master Peter. If, indeed, it's you behind those eyes at present�
[He's conjured in front of Peter before, but it was a knife, something simple and easy for him. Other things are generally much more difficult for him, requiring a great deal of concentration. Now, he has no reason to believe he can't just do whatever the hell he wants and get away with it, another particular recklessness that has been woven into who he is for as long as he can remember and which has been amplified here. With casual ease, he holds the earring up in one hand. With the other, he remembers the way the bauble felt between his fingers and pulls until that memory is something tangible.
With a few flickers of violet light, a copy of the earring appears, Break's magic filling in the absence to complete the pair.]
no subject
And it's that swell that blossoms further, for Break's behaviour and the nature of all of this calls to Paimon so intensely. The man takes the offering from his palm and the demon king watches him, pleased that he has accepted the little trinket, and just as solemn about it, if not equally thrilled to earn favour. As important as it is for offering to be made to him, he is also a being that is meant to provide. To give is as important as to receive β reciprocation, exchange, energy channeled and re-formed and shared. To Paimon, this is incredibly Serious and Significant, and he presents the bauble to Break with a dip of the head, respectful. This is his place, his table, his throne at the head of it. Paimon recognises that it is a great privilege to be here in this magical place with its dancing things.
Hearing his name spoken aloud may help coax Peter from disappearing completely (albeit with a wave of quiet horror as to the man's words), but it mostly makes the Other dominate further, strengthened by being seen by Break in any capacity. Certainly, Paimon's been watching him over time, and making connection here and there but never in a way that has properly introduced himself to Break. The doll was left for him like a secret. A whisper whose voice was never identified.
But now... the man sees him, or something of him (recognises that perhaps this isn't Peter at least, which is a start), and the demon tilts its head like a bird more than a person, just a little too far to one side. He says nothing in response just yet, neither confirms nor denies what Break alludes to, which perhaps is an answer all in itself. And then he feels the magic seconds before he sees it, the display rippling against the very core of his spirit, and how his spirit breathes in response. Hushed and wide-eyed, gaze shimmering with a glint of gold that might be perceptible for a moment or two, gold that rises up to meet that violet energy β the demon watches as Break duplicates the earring.
And while physical reactions are extremely odd for Paimon, he has absorbed enough from the people around him to know how to clap his hands together, or... attempt to. It's a weighted gesture, palms meeting each other a couple of times, like he isn't quite sure how hard or gently to actually do the thing. The effect might be similar to one of those monkeys with the cymbals... He's trying.....
But then, finally, he speaks. It's only one word, but it's said like praise, as though the word itself is something worthy of merit. Delight sparkles again in his eyes, brightening them up. But no, he isn't Peter. He's something that feels validated to be here, now that Break has addressed his presence, no matter how vaguely. He's something that never blinks. )
Magician.
no subject
[With a neat twist of his hand, the hat flips. A flurry of golden butterflies blast out of it, their gleam stark against the darkness of Break's favored colors. Despite not knowing exactly who -- or what -- he's speaking to here, Break is at ease. Ange would never allow anyone who might be of a mind to hurt him to get close in this place, would never let such a being enter her realm at all. Bolstered by that trust in his witch, his movements are confident, as though bringing flying things out of a hat is as common a daily task as making tea.
And oh, what a treat to have an appreciative audience! Break has been able to impress Peter so in part because he wasn't all that different as a young man. Kevin Regnard was a quiet, lurking sort of creature, anxious and brooding, preferring nothing more than remaining in the background unnoticed and very rarely granted that wish. He sinks back into those tendencies at times, and it's how he's been able to relate to half the young people in his life. But Xerxes Break -- Kevin pried open and dragged into the light -- has a showman streak a mile wide. He's been doing magic tricks of some form or other for years now, well over a decade. The kindest parts of him remember a watery smile sneaking onto the face of a grieving girl in mourning for her mother when he threw his voice into the chattering doll who used to live on his shoulder, and the wide eyes of a boy with no memory who'd just lost everything as a man with one red eye emerged from the woods to soften a deal by making a bird pop out of his hat.
The darker parts of him treasure the control. Whatever it is looking at him now through Peter's unblinking eyes, Break has it transfixed, and it's a thrill.]
And what of you? [He sets both earrings and hat aside and lets the butterflies congregate on his hands.] Have you any words?
no subject
But there's a delight in the man's reception of that word, and to the display that immediately follows it. Transfixed is certainly the term for what Paimon is; those unblinking eyes follow the gale of golden butterflies with all the attention of a feline fixed on something shiny and dancing. The movements of his head are maybe a little disconcertingly unnatural for a human β jerky and yet precise β pupils swelling and contracting again and again. Though emotion doesn't wear itself in him so plainly, his eyes reveal everything, and they are fully mesmerised.
Such that when Break speaks, Paimon is having to literally drag those eyes up from the butterflies now upon Break's hands, and upwards. Finding the face with the single red eye. Perhaps he should let Peter come back (but he doesn't want to!) and so it's Paimon who stays, and slowly fills in more of the spaces between them, and Peter just as slowly sinks beneath a vast, dark ocean. It won't hurt him; it's something rather like sleeping, only deeper, and when the boy wakes again, he won't know anything that's happened. But it can't be helped. Paimon wants to be fully present for this, which means that Peter will have to go away for awhile. )
There are... many. ( Words, for what he is. Introducing himself is a difficult task when he is caged within a human's form. It's... a distressing thought, but not one that he lingers on. Not now, when the air is so bright and the flowers are so crisp, and there are magical dancing things. )
But the Golden Witch knows me as demon.