deercountry | 🦅 🦅 🦅

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🦅 🦅 🦅

Who: falco grice, others, and you!
What: a catch all for the month including a player plot, general prompts and event prompts in the comments, all open!
When: december; date will be in the header if any!
Where: waves hands at too many places

Content Warnings: possession, violence, gore, self harm, child death, war imagery, child soldiers, racial oppression, genocide, forced experimentation, torture, mutilation, gun violence (against children)

see below for open prompts of all kinds! if you have any questions or would like to plot something specific, hmu at

liberos!

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[On a normal day, Bigby is always fighting his worst instincts. The beast inside always yearns for the worst, to follow through with rage, to hunt, to feast. It is something he is well practiced in battling, trying to push against the rabid thing inside of him. So, with the struggling against the unusually high amounts of paranoia, it has been that much harder, but he has been trying. Meditation, resting, keeping himself occupied. Trying everything to keep himself calm around other people, for their sake.

And now he is in the belly of another beast, numbly aware of what just happened: it's eaten him. His leg is gone. It feels like he's being boiled, and regrettably that is not the first time he has felt that particular sensation. What is different is the surge of sensation of negativity, the rank smell of it, seeping into every part of him. The paranoia, the fear, the anger -- it flares uncontrollably inside of him.

Nothing will come to save him. He is on his own, he's always been on his own. You said you would visit my cell! You lied! he'd wept to himself once before years ago while no one listened.

He is not prey.

(Distantly, he remembers seeing liquid run out of the bird monster's eyes. Was it crying? Is it indeed a slave to its worst self?)

The chains around his person burst off, leaving him only in shackles. A howling scream rips out of his throat as he transforms completely, regrowing his leg as he changes. With dagger-like claws and improved strength, he begins to rip his way out.

And on the outside, the others will see an arm violently clawing out.]

[Childe's warning goes unnoticed, just a buzzing at the back of Fern's mind that he doesn't bother taking heed of. Which is probably a good thing, honestly, because it means he doesn't get out of the way of the sudden downpour. The force of it is hard enough to make him stumble and almost lose his balance but it works, it's enough to wash away the sludge coating his arms. With it some of the fear and anger washes away, leaving only his own mind, his own emotions that aren't particularly feeling like they're even his at the moment.

So he's still left with the sensation of drowning, and the desire to force all of that outwards, to start destroying things until he feels better. It isn't until he hears another howl, one from Illarion, and for Childe to grab him and yank him further away from the monster that he realizes he needs to get a hold of himself. He's useless like this, and if he doesn't shape up all he's going to do is drag everyone else down and get them killed.

It's good timing, because there's a glimmer of hope - Bigby, alive, and clawing his way out. That snaps Fern to attention and he shifts his arms into vines again, whipping them out at the monster to twist around one of its legs and try to keep it on the ground.]

[And away Illarion goes.

The shrike's feathers and talons vanish the instant he loses contact with the beast's skull, tucked back away into higher reality. With them gone he's got a split-second of clarity, a fraction of a moment to ((feel)) through the monster and the confusing jumble of its innards.

He notices two things: Bigby's alive and fighting. (Cause to rejoice, there.)

And there's another body embedded in the creature, too high up the neck to have been a victim of its hunger.

Interesting, and confusing, and also something he can do damned little about with a one-way ticket to gods-only-knew-where. Most of his thoughts are currently on not getting splattered across the landscape or so irrevocably broken he can't limp back to the fight, and so--

His Omen manifests herself at the top of her Sleeper's arc, scale-and-feather wings tucked close to her body as she dives into the fray. A tiny thing--no larger than a big songbird, or an enormous moth--she'd be easy to ignore in the chaos except she's frantically broadcasting a...very confusing image to any other Omen near enough to hear, something like a smeared cross-section of the titan and its innards (and passenger) if one could view it all from outside three-dimensional space. Look! Look at this!

Give her a bit; she'll get words to describe what she's seeing eventually.

Somewhere far in the distance, Illarion falls through the barn's roof with a tremendous crash.

Then the rest of the rickety structure promptly falls in on top of him, sending a cloud of dust, snow, and debris high into the air.

He'll be a little while getting out of that one. Iskierka will have to carry his contribution to the fight until he can.]

[ there they are— the light, the change in childe pulling fern off. and there it goes. the titan vessels don’t feel dolor, but it doesn’t mean they lack at least some form of sensation. the shrill it gives is of alarm and short lived surprised, and only a second after that comes the larger limbs of the monster it had eaten prying himself right out of its belly. flesh tears open to make way for the furious, shredding like layers of paper, and once bigby has freed himself from his prison he pours right out, right along with scorching vapor, acid, sludge, tissue and blighted membrane (luckily, titans don’t have a completed digestive tract— no entrails or even important organs like the liver slip out to join the gore; the jaw titan has none). the shower of blood that pools and spews beneath and about bigby’s escape is as milky white as the moon. this creature is a paleblood at its base, but points of indigo begin to stain its pristine hue like paint being dropped into water. the slime infects it like invading vines and spreads once it hits the air, leaving more black than the earlier pearl.

that should be enough to incapacitate any living creature, but the bird, with an open abdominal cavity hanging like mangled strips of meat for show, does little to express the slightest sign of disability. there’s more steam that clouds the premises, makes the air heavy with heat the bird’s flesh gives off— it lifts one of its talons to aim a curving strike at the abomination that crawled out of him, then proceeds to use that very momentum to propel his body up. it’s too large to take off so quickly, so then came the slam of its gangling arms to the earth for more impulse, the spread of its limbs into much more suited wings nearly four times its own length. the only problem with its getaway is the yank back on its feet from plants, causing a gale to whip up from the thunderous claps too close to ground level as it faltered for balance and fought to climb for one reason:

its abdomen is mending itself, and it would do much better to heal in territory few could reach. bigby had the right idea, but not the right location. ]

Edited 2021-12-14 01:13 (UTC)

[A lot of things happen all at once.

Bigby bursts from the titan's stomach, and he instantly realizes, despite the change in appearance, that the man had lived. No doubt, the scene itself was gruesome, with what he believes is corruption turning that shimmering paleblood into something far more sinister. But his fellow Sleeper had clawed his way out of the grasp of death itself- impressive. Steam rises and the ground becomes harder to see, and he hopes those vines of Fern's hold steady. Wind threatens to blow him from the rooftop itself as the titan tries to take to the air, and in one blink, Childe teleports above the titan itself.

While he floats and prepares for a strike from above, he gets some interesting information from Illarion's Omen. Sergei, his fox Omen, wisps out in a dark cloud of smoke around his neck, to convey the information. He's gone as soon as he'd appeared, leaving the Harbinger in shock.

There's someone inside? How...?

It doesn't matter how. He's sure whoever is inside is probably the one commanding the titan, but he can't quite tell how to reach them. There's no time like the present to get started, and he lets himself fall, his double bladed polearm that glowed with the constellations in the night sky pointed directly down to spear where he thinks this puppeteer is. Electricity begins to shoot out of the blade, arcing erratically in the air around him, intent on searing down as far as he can.

Either way, his aim is too low. Even if he manages to penetrate the skin of the titan, it's below the nape of the neck. The mental map didn't give him a good enough idea of where Falco lay inside of the titan.]

Edited (fixed a thing) 2021-12-14 03:07 (UTC)

[Though the titan is successful in striking Bigby, the abomination howls out in rage and digs it's claws into the foot. No, he refuses to be shaken off that easily. The anger ripples inside of him and Bigby sets to starting to climb up the limb.

And he goes still, his omen forming at his side, receiving the message. The black, shaggy wolf snarls and jerks his head up to glare at the back of the titan's neck. The abomination snorts, watching as Childe makes his attempt.

Then he needs to make sure the others have their chance.

With a howl, Bigby makes his way toward one of the wings, intending to start gnawing and slashing his way through to make it impossible to use. Yes, it will heal, but the intent is to distract, not succeed.]

[Despite all the gore (yeesh, going to be hard to get that mental image out of his head), a wave of relief washes over Fern as he sees Bigby tear his way out of the creature. Good, okay, he's mostly in one piece and not dead. That's good.

He can't relax, though. That monster is trying to make a break for it, and Fern's grass shifts and expands over his clothing, transforming his body into something far, far taller, more knightly, covered in buglike armour. From there his roots extend out of his legs, burrowing into the ground to help keep him from getting dragged into the air. And as he catches Cool Swords Guy teleporting above the monster, he sends more vines out of his body out to grab onto it, reinforcing his grip. His Omen, a pink and white orchid mantis, will even form itself into the size of a large dog to help him, at the same time chirping out the message she's getting. Something about a... weak point? Geez, a weak point would be really useful right now.]

[ the vines are thick and would need attention if it wanted to break free, a swipe with its talons should do— but even one of its wings is under furious attack. the jaw titan’s feet make for a grasp at fern’s vices and pulls, but not long after does the bird forfeit its getaway for a messy landing; it shrieks toward its lower limbs to damage the green chains, but quickly switches its focus to its closer opponent.

its abdomen has mended almost completely, but now what was left was the beast plucking at its wing. almost as if frustrated, the bird folds its limbs and strikes the ground with all four of them to become mobile— from its mouth spurts an unholy amount of gunk to safeguard itself somewhat from below, but then the rest is up to its own offense.

it tries desperately to harm bigby now that they keep to ground level, its two jaws snapping for him bone to bone, uplifting anything in the way if it could at least take quite the nasty chomp out of him— even some of its own messily feathers are pulled or snapped. steam radiates high off each bite bigby leaves that had been enough to make it past the first layer of skin to expose paleblood flesh. they’ll also find its unbelievably hot.

now that it has little choice for locomotion, it’ll gladly wait for the rest of the group to come to it. just— mind the nape! even the silence doesn’t want the party to end so soon, and if one dares to get close to the nape, the bird’s crystal hard talons rise to cover them.

if anyone wanted confirmation on a location, they had it, but slashing through studded, scaly armor was a stupid move. ]

[It seemed he struck nothing at all- and to make matters worse, the monster doesn't even seem to notice him, as if he was a mosquito who's bite at worst would itch for not more than a moment in time. That told him two things, that he was way off and that it's possible that the monster doesn't care about the passenger in its neck. It's also possible that Childe is wrong, that the person inside isn't the puppeteer at all, but rather a prisoner.

Bigby's assistance doesn't go unnoticed. The titan seems to be mostly focused on him, steam rising up as the Sleeper rends through its with the snap of giant jaws behind him. It's a moment to take advantage of, and the Harbinger suddenly snaps out of existence and reappears in the air, wielding a giant hydro bow that's aimed now at the eyeballs of the titan.]

D͖̝̝͆͋͘i̠͙̦̽̒̒ë͎͍͉́̾̔ h̼͚͍e̺͇͜r͔̞͉e͙̺.̼

[Large water arrows slice through the steam to try to blind the monstrosity, to give Bigby more freedom to wreak havoc as he sees fit.]

[Fortunately, like this, Bigby is much more agile than he would be as a man. So, he does manage to dodge away for the most part, but the powerful jaws do clip off the end of a horn. It earns a frustrated howl from the beast, and his first instinct is to attack back--

But he has the clarity to see the prolonged problem: getting to the back of the neck isn't going to be so simple with talons protecting it.

The idea he has is foolhardy, but he is regrettably used to unusual decision making in the face of such powerful foes. If they can't get to the nape from the outside, then...

After Childe launches his arrows, he'll find that suddenly Bigby is tackling him, dragging him away. The next time the titan goes in for a bite at Bigby, he's leaping toward the mouth instead. He has mind enough to try to shield Childe best he can so the other man isn't injured in the process.]

[Fern isn't even sure if his vines will hold. They're strong, but at the end of the day they're organic matter and organic matter breaks a lot more easier than something like wire or steel. This monster is huge and strong, and he does want he can to reinforce the tendrils, with bark and stronger chloroplasts despite the heat radiating off of its body and more of that awful goo. He can't let this thing fly off and start wreaking havoc, he needs to keep it as pinned down as possible so the others can get their hits in.

But Glob, if this thing ends up burning him to death Varian is going to be pissed.

At least he can see that the others are making progress. They've got the monster angry and defensive and more importantly, distracted. So while Bigby and Childe do their thing he takes the chance to redirect a few vines, sharpening them before winding them around the creature's talons to try and peel them away from the nape. If the Omens are right, then any attempt to get that weak spot exposed and attacked is going to be useful.]

[After nearly getting crushed by one vast taloned hand slapping down on the titan's nape--where she'd been trying to land, thank you!--Iskierka goes up in so much glittering smoke like a thing dispelled.

No, not dispelled, recalled, because not so long after she vanishes--cutting off the sluice of confusing telepathic imagery--her Sleeper slips back into the fray, tattered and dust-covered and with one arm hanging limp at his side, but otherwise no worse for wear. He makes his way toward Fern--

he steps through one of the monster's flailing pinions as it slams into the ground between him and Fern, neatly avoiding being smashed to paste, and joins his fellow Darkblood. If nothing else he can provide cover until he has a better ((feel)) for the evolving course of the battle. Their adversary's intent on protecting its--what, rider? Hostage? Weak spot?--and he can't envision any direct attack not getting retaliation.

Though, also, Bigby, what the fuck.]

What the fuck, [he actually says aloud; paradoxically, his tone is without much inflection--despite the (ostensible) excitement of battle and the tremendous, awful psychic pressure coming off the monster in waves.] He really is doing this?

[Apparently. Illarion would have more to say on the subject but he has to stop and cough up a marble(??) as discreetly as he can.]

[ the shots to his eyes are a bull's eye each; they burst with milky blood, purple infecting residue and long ribbons of steam, blinding the beast as it gave a long, continuous cry and shook its head to throw the supposed objects off their mark. not because of the pain, but because the group had taken away the possessor’s primary source of energy: the pilot’s suffering. falco blinks within the nape and feels his biggest, most overwhelming sensation of relief until now. he can’t see, thank god— not many would praise blindness, but in this case, it’s a source of sudden calm for falco. it puts a dent right into how the silence works.

that shows in the titan’s behavior, if not for just a few blips. he can’t see, he can’t hear— he’s only in a heated suspension now, the vines prying his talons away from his nape becoming a success as the muscle slowly gave way to inches and inches of space only accumulating the more fern pulled.

the ghost’s last resort was to panic, and panic it did like a cornered animal with little options left to stay within the game. from the second of calm, it erratically began to thrash and snap in an viable direction available. weight passed its tongue, and like a snare trap, or a gator, its jaws clutched tightly and attempted to chew whatever was in there. ]

[It's almost as if the next few moments move so quickly that he feels as if someone had hit the fast forward button on this fight. His main focus is, of course, the titan before him. Satisfaction sweeps through him as his arrows connect, but it's short-lived- suddenly he's being slammed into and grabbed, being carried toward the trashing head of the beast that snaps and threatens to cleave the two of them in half with its teeth.]

N̼͜͜o̡̼̺!̦̼͕ W̟͕̙h͇͔͜a̡̠͉t̝̠͜ a̺͚͉r̙̼̪e̡̝ y̻̝o͙̻͜u͙̦-̢̞̟!̝͇͓

[He's so caught off guard by the fact that one of his own 'allies' in this fight seems to want to drag him to his death, the gaping mouth of the monster fills his sight and all of a sudden it's just black.

The heat of being inside of Falco's mouth hits him through his abyssal armor, struggling to gain a foothold on a tongue that's trying to push himself and Bigby towards its teeth to crush and grind them into tattered pieces of flesh and bone to be consumed. His body scrapes against the top of the mouth, and Childe grits his teeth- it would take everything not to become lunch. All he can do right now is try to stay away from the teeth, summoning two abyssal blades that he shoves into the roof of Falco's mouth with all the strength he can muster, and he just hangs onto them for the moment.]

Edited (forgot some of my html lol) 2021-12-23 04:55 (UTC)

[It'd been a bold move, and he knows that -- but they need to take every opportunity they can to succeed in this fight. If the neck will be protected on the outside, then they can try this way, too. Or, it'll be a functional distraction. Either way, they must succeed and protect those who cannot protect themselves.

He snarls, ripping his claws into the tongue thrashing beneath them. Steam hisses and it burns, making him howl, but he braces through it despite the pain. Shaking his head, he pushes the both of him and Childe as close to the back of the throat as possible, his claws digging into the sides to keep them from falling into the pit of the titan's stomach.]

EEEEERRROARRRGGH!!

[It's a horrible, monstrous shriek ripping out of his throat, but he's trying to point out the back of the titan's throat as best as he can for Childe, as if to say there!]

[Oh hey, another teammate come to help them take this monster down! Fern is certainly glad for the additional help in the form of Illarion, though he experiences a brief moment of complete and utter horror as he notice the creature's talons coming down straight on top of him.

And then Illarion steps through it like no big deal and, well. That's a thing. That's definitely a thing that just happened that Fern is mentally filing away as weird shit to bring up later. Because that was certainly a thing.]

Uh, yeah -

[He glances briefly down at the marble - whaaat the fuck - before he has to turn his attention back to the monster and Bigby and Childe though, particularly the monster as it starts thrashing. Keeping a hold on it is getting to be difficult, and more roots sprout from his legs to secure him to the ground. Of course, the downside to this is he can't exactly to move and get out of the way.]

Watch out!

[There's so much weird shit Illarion has to explain after this.

The shrike jerks his head up at Fern's warning, flickering into an eye-starred feathered shadow long enough to deflect another blow of the titan's limbs from both of them. It momentarily cuts off his perception of Bigby and Childe's constrained battlefield in the creature's mouth, until Iskierka reappears near its head to keep a faceted eye on things.

If Illarion had his way, it would be him up there; this is the exact sort of problem he's horribly suited for. But he is not, and dithering about that didn't help those who were--who would get tumbled around like bones in a cup if the titan's thrashing worsened.]

The head and neck! [Sorry, Fern, for the creepy eldritch echoes at such close range.] Pin them down!

[It would give their allies a straighter shot on better footing from the back of the throat right through the tiny, trapped figure in the nape.

Trapped being the operative word, he thinks. That slackness and slowing heartbeat bespoke either a faint or relief even as the monster panicked; the "pilot", wasn't.

But removing the poor thing still might be their only option for stopping the monster.]

[ it’s harder to move the titan, and its early last resort thrashing has gradually eaten up at the host’s energy to fight back more. they’re weighing more like anchors now, thanks to fern’s vines, legs and limbs now fully pulled away from its protected prize and pinned to the ground, now beginning to splay the more he pulled. it gave a chance for falco to try, again, to try and pull on his controls more to keep it down. the titan’s body quivered from all points of pressure being exerted, falco’s included, only leaving its head to raise and fall and shake— with the metal at the right point of his mouth, it holds, it should hold— but not for long.

he is, after all, the jaws titan, and his jaws are the most valuable power asset. falco can hold the head still for a matter of moments split between seconds of trashing again, but it’s still something. it’s still something before fern can do it and he’s so willing to sacrifice that. the metal keeping his beak open creaks— they better hurry, it was a small window of opportunity, but they have to— ]

GRO!!

[ grow? go? no? saliva builds thick and nauseous at the roof, the teeth, and the beast swallows back only once before the sound of initial regurgitation and bubbling starts. if the ugly ghost vomit won’t get them, the jaws would. ]

Edited 2021-12-28 12:29 (UTC)

[Down the back of the throat they go- the very place Childe absolutely did not want to go, but it seems his furry friend here knows something he doesn't. The muscles of the titan's throat threaten to push them farther and farther down, and he clings onto Bigby so it doesn't take him down. It stinks, the smell is so invasive that he can't think straight. But he notices, after a time, that the titan has become still.

Still enough that he manages to get some composure, before the bellow of a word that he doesn't understand rocks his ears and makes his eyes cross. Without warning, that same saliva that Fern had pulled those people out of pour down the back of the throat, covering them both. He instantly feels a wave of despair and remorse wash over him as the mucus seeps into his armor, begging him to separate from Bigby and just let himself fall down the throat and be dissolved into the acid that lie below, waiting for the next meal to arrive.]

N̫̙g̘͙̦h͔̺͜.̟̺.̺͕͜.͓͖͜

[He can't let go...

Turning his head feels like it takes so much effort, but he remembered where his comrade here had pointed towards. That must be where that person is, they have to get to him now before that regurgitating noise becomes more of a reality...

A celestial blade appears in his free hand, and he starts to swing it- the blade cutting at the back of the throat, suffering deep lacerations over and over again. Water slices out of it at the same time, clearing the paleblood that pours out as he cuts deeper and deeper into the neck, revealing what they'd been looking for this entire time.

The cavity that held Falco.

His clawed hand rips through the flesh, opening the hole to the imprisoned boy. And he's just that...a boy. The very sight of him, skin attached to his face under his eyes, so young. He reminds him of his younger brother, Anthon. And the negativity feeding on his mind only fuels a feeling of having failed again to save a sibling, like he had when he'd watched Teucer fade away in Deerington.

No...

Childe's strength fails him, in this crucial moment. Hopefully Bigby can finish this before they were both regurgitated up and crushed by the jaws of the jaw titan.]

[The slime hits him not unlike Childe. Hopelessness and despair wash over him, a cruel and familiar feeling sinking in to the bone. It's easy to let it drown him out, but his beastly rage keeps him focused as well. So, it's with that he uses to keep him going -- which means it is a blind fury.

Fortunately, Childe is able to do enough to reveal who is piloting this titan. The knowledge of it had been unknown to him, and his demon projects him forward. With a bellowing howl, Bigby lashes out with his claws: his larger left arm strikes out to sink into the pilot's chest, to find his heart, crush it, it's mine, red and beating--

And he sees who it is, too late. Too late. He's already struck his mark and wrenched the heart into his horrible claws, shredding it instantly.

He screams on the inside, no no no NO, and lets out a wretched, pained scream.]

[Fortunately, Fern is very glad Illarion is there. He too is the kind of person who is used to yeeting himself straight into a monster rather than providing support outside (he has, in fact, defeated several monsters in this fashion), so he's a bit at a loss as to how to best use his abilities to make sure his teammates don't die horribly.

He nods at Illarion's direction, more vines splitting and growing and twisting around the monster's head and neck.]

On it!

[It feels like ages pass. He so badly wants to just forget about holding the monster down, holding it down isn't cutting it and he can feel those thoughts creeping into the back of his mind. It would be a lot better if he just let go and attacked with his blade arm, or a sword, or his battle axe. It would be more satisfying than this.

Those thoughts don't feel like his, but he knows they are, and he's trying his damnedest here to ignore them, even as his grass twitches anxiously. The sound of Bigby's scream is a good distraction though, and he snaps his head up.]

That doesn't sound good!

[There's poetic irony in the blind guy being the one with the clearest view of the entire unfolding battle--much as he's got reasons to wish he didn't. Wishing you didn't have a responsibility over the consequences that came along with it didn't change that you had it, though--and so.

Illarion throws Fern a high sign as the vines further immobilize the monster's head. Something else--the shrike can make a guess what--is helping them there but now they've got insurance, now they've got a guarantee of time between Fern's efforts and those of their doomed unknown ally embedded in the neck. Hard-won seconds tick by as the monster's thrashing falters and Illarion observes, by ((feel)) and through Iskierka's eyes, the efforts to cut through its neck and to its pilot.

There's the first moment of revelation, as Childe falters. And the second, as Bigby doesn't, and voices that horrible scream. The shrike's expression grows more remote than it already is. (It should have been him up there.)

That doesn't sound good!

Well, no. It wasn't.]

They've killed it. Brace yourself! And them! [If this has half the animation of any dragon he's ever seen killed, it's going to be a wild ride for the two in the jaws as it falls.

And, possibly, the ground crew as well. He takes a step closer to Fern, balancing further on his toes, ready to jump both of them out of the way if it comes to it.]

[ seeing inside the titan’s nape cavity was close to having double vision for falco, like wearing a separate headset with glasses that made him close to oblivious to those so near his true body. his eyes were connected to the beast’s, blinded, and so were so many fibers of muscle connected to him, pulsing, and spread with the blackness of infection in his veins. before he knew what they were planning, before he can connect the thoughts and feel relief—

the side of his chest bursts apart, making way for claws that so furiously struck right through him. the pain is beyond comprehension, falco can’t even register if and when he should shriek— it stays lodged in his throat and fills him with dolor that bursts, then simply dulls, all in a fraction of an instant. falco’s widened, frightened eyes stream purple-tinted tears, and in the same moment where he saw the monstrous bigby rip out a small little heart no larger than a tennis ball, still beating in his palm . . . it’s when falco begins to feel a comforting warmth that hugs him and tells him to let go.

they’ve killed him. he’s dying, quickly— but he’s not mad. what he’s truly upset for is harming them, and that sound. that sound of bigby’s painful shriek stays with him and lulls him to sleep. he thinks of his brother, then— they usually say that you see your whole life when you die, but falco thought of colt, and what he’d said before he was blown to charred pieces by falco’s explosion. I’m not letting go. don’t worry, your big brother will always be right here with you.

and hell if it didn’t feel true.

it’s all too fast for falco to give goodbyes, sorrys or an explanation. his body even tries its absolute best to repair him the same way it repaired his titan. but he needs a beating heart faster than his regeneration could offer, faster than the amount of blood he’s losing, regenerating and losing again. the thick smell of milky paleblood with a touch of sickness (much like spoiled milk) fills the cavity, slips down the throat— and when the steam begins to rise from the massive hole in the boy, his eyes go dim and his pupils wide, left open. the titan falls without a cry, but it jostles the men inside every which way.

they may find that it’s suddenly much easier to exit the titan through hacking away at its flesh. the mouth, only if it’s open, with all that dead weight. the nape may be the easiest way, though. the shortest. after all, the steam rising from the massive bird’s body is a signal that it’s all evaporating. it’s breaking apart, and in half an hour, the titan’s body would be reduced to bones. a little more than that, and it’d be as if it was never there to begin with.

all that’s left of it is the mangled, limp body of the boy smaller than all of them once trapped in it, scarred jaggedly where the bird’s jaws would be, and beginning to ooze the remains of the silence that’s no longer alive, and no longer active enough to drive their negativity high. ]

Edited 2021-12-29 12:33 (UTC)

[Childe doesn't even have the strength now to stop Bigby. The monster roars past him so quickly it's almost as if he doesn't have the ability to react, helplessly watching on as Falco's heart is ripped from him and crushed before his very eyes. He still hasn't even had the chance to figure out if this boy was the perpetrator of all of this or a prisoner inside of this grotesque body, hooked into it by his very flesh so it could operate. Little does he know that he's right on both accounts, to an extent- but it doesn't matter anymore.

Bigby's anguish cuts through the ambiance, and even for a man who has taken countless lives on the battlefield, that scream shakes him. Perhaps, they knew each other, or perhaps the man inside of the monster has realized what he's done. But all he can do is look on while Falco wastes away in front of them, watching the steam rise and the body try to save itself to no avail. It would be interesting for him to watch if the moment weren't so doleful. With the boy's death, the effects of the saliva release his mind, and it's now that he's able to fully pull himself into the cavity and out of the throat.

He'll give Bigby only a second. With the operator dead, this body would surely give way and they don't need to be in it when it does.]

W̡̻͖e̟͎͉ h̝͚͜a̢̟̫v̙̫̠e͖͖ t̼͉̞o̡͓̫ g͖̞͙o̡͙͓.̺͉ S͚͇͜t͓͚͉a̘͚͎n͎͓͜d̡̻͙ b̙͔̪a̡̡̪c̠̘͜k̪͚ w̢͔̫h̢̻̠i̡̼̠l͉͇͍e̡̪ I͖̫͖ g̝̼e̡͔̺t̢̠̫ u̦̼͜s̪͍ o̟͙͜u̫̘t͉̻̞ o̼̞̻f̦̼̻ h̟̫e̺̘͇r̘̝̝e̻͓̙.̢̙

[He can already feel the body lurch, and thankfully Fern is out there to help them not tumble into the stomach of the titan anyway. His double bladed polearm appears in his hand, and with a charge of electricity, Childe thrusts it upwards into the back of the nape, searing away skin and muscle to blow a hole open to the outside as steam starts to rise from the giant body of the titan.]

[Chains surge out from inside of the titan's stomach, somehow untouched by acid, the Silence's glaze slowly dissipating. It wraps back around Bigby, returning him to human as he starts to weep openly, uncaring for a moment whether he lives or dies. Death, surely he would deserve! He can't stop looking at his hand, covered in streaks of milky blood.

There, he'd crushed it, maimed this poor child's heart. He's just as wretched as all have claimed, surely.

But he does have a moment of clarity.]

Just-- just a moment--

[He's realizing that he cannot leave Falco's body in this thing. With shaking arms, he pulls the boy to himself, biting his lower lip as thick tears roll down his face.]

All right. Let's go.

[Even as he shakes, he's following Childe out of the Titan's body as steam surrounds them. It burns, but never as terribly as the brand that was once placed upon his head.]

🦅 🦅 🦅

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unfortunately, there was not a starbucks on illarion's route back to the fight, so he's just late

he’s late, with a marble (cw: brief eye stuff)

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i forgot to say cw: child death!!!

oh god falco im gunna cry

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