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[grice]

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!

Comments

[grice]

[ falco readies his positioning and shifts from carrying both the man’s arms to hooking a single shoulder around his. definitely, this way they could make it much faster. ]

Okay—!

[ on now, the boy springs his strength to his knees and upper body, and pulls side by side with luna. should they keep walking, they’ll hear shots— but none in their direction. in a matter of moments, they’ll be able to reach the trench unscathed. ]

We made it— Oh, quickly, [ they just need to adjust the man, heavily unconscious with a sharp blow to the head for now. quickly, falco works to get bandages and stints from his nearby colleagues; only four of them are children, but uniformed just as the adults. ] Thank you, miss— you helped save his life.

[ he seems to be disregarding his own, but perhaps . . .

that was part of the whole trauma, from being here so young. ]

[creidim]

[ Luna keeps an eye on where the fire had come from before, hurrying as fast as she can. But fortunately, none does come and with the help of them working together with the wounded man on each of their shoulders, they're even more fortunate to head back towards the trench.

She's still exhausted as they make it, panting as they set the poor man down and set about trying to work on his injury. Luna wishes she had something more with her, she's not very good at healing magic. Fixing broken toes and wrapping up is fine, but much more than that is a bit tricky. At least she picked up a little basic first aid while in Deerington. ]

It was the right thing to do. [ Wasn't it? Even if this man is now a prisoner of these soldiers. These... children, in amongst the adults. Luna's brow pinches. It's familiar, achingly so.

She keeps the man steady, upright while he can be tended to but she's looking at the boy now: ]

Are you hurt, at all? [ She swallows thickly; the next part doesn't come out as chastising, but like a simple fact: ] You could have gotten yourself killed out there.

[grice]

I’m fine, [ he’s only got his blow to the head earlier, but that was it. coming out unscathed in a war like this one was close to a miracle, especially on the front lines. ] . . . We have to be out here.

[ this was their final exam, after all; they were all technically competing amongst themselves for a shot at being treated with basic human rights, them and their family. inheritance meant safety. for falco, it meant safety for more than one person that wasn’t himself.

the man begins to come to and mumble— but the language isn’t their own, and it isn’t something any of them could understand. falco brightens a touch, telling another boy to please translate for them, and to tell the man that he’ll be alright, his injuries have been tended to— but the boy gravely replies: “don’t touch me. you’ll corrupt me. devil . . . is what he said”. when one of the marleyan soldiers overseeing the trench overhears, he guffaws, loudly— condescendingly. and falco, along with the other children, go completely quiet with their heads down. still working, but down.

falco, especially, wears the expression of one who has just been thrown to the dirt. ]

[creidim]

[ We have to be out here. It sits within her heavy like a stone, her expression grave, shoulders dropping. She... understands that. To fight, to have to fight. There's a slow nod as she dwells on it, quiet for a moment before the wounded man stirs. She watches the exchange, and it's as if a switch has been flicked, all with the power of a half dozen or so words.

Luna stiffens at that, watches the children all going still and downcast — even the boy beside her, who'd been so exhilarated at the fact he'd managed to help save the man from out in the battlefield. She might not understand what's going on here, what the man could possibly mean with something like that — they're just children — but she understands unkindness when she sees it. How the soldier overseeing laughs at the children's dismay.

Her eyes narrow, expression shifting into a particular iciness that rarely comes out beneath the dreaminess of her. She looks to the boy who'd translated for the man, the coldness isn't for the boy but she can't help the bite in her voice. ]

Tell him perhaps he should be more thankful to those who saved his life. If that were me, I wouldn't go around calling people devils.

[ She reaches for the boy beside her, gently places her hand on his shoulder — her expression softening once again. ]

Don't pay any mind to him. [ She offers it gently. ] It was brave, to risk yourself like that for someone you don't even know. You did very well.

[grice]

[ udo (the translator, the one with the glasses) sucks in his lips and goes wide eyed, looking between the witch and the wounded soldier. all of those in immediate vicinity have their attention taken before quietly scurrying back to their posts, without saying a word— falco, on the other hand, continues to watch luna with with both surprise and worry; he doesn’t wish for the higher ups to hear, who knows what would happen to her for speaking out of line, for insubordination— even if she truly wasn’t one of them.

when the air actually seems calmer than it’s ever been, falco too, brings his tense shoulders to an ease, dipping his head in acknowledgement. his voice goes quiet, soft and careful of the ears around them. once he’s finished his tending, he finds a spot, with his back against the dirt trench wall, to rest by her side. ]

Thank you, Miss. [ and now, for a truth that he doesn’t get to spill often (not because it’s a secret, but because he never truly had the chance or situation to say so, ] It makes a difference, if you think that.

[ there’s something missing— ]

I’m Falco.

[creidim]

[ The others slowly fall away in time, back to their duties. Luna stands a little longer — her eyes burning into the wounded soldier's face before she pulls away to go and sit. She needs a moment to recollect herself. This place is not hers, and she needs to find a way back to Trench. Perhaps it might simply come back in time, all she can really go is wait.

The boy comes back to her once he's done. She looks up, her brow pinching slightly as he thanks her. Of course she thinks that; he risked his life for that soldier. An enemy one, no less. Even if the idea of keeping him prisoner doesn't sit easy in her, it means the alternative of death is off the table. She hopes. Perhaps they'll treat him kindly. Kinder than she was treated. ]

Doing the right thing is sometimes very difficult. [ Life-threatening, in this case. ] And you did it anyway. It was brave.

[ There's a small smile. ]

I'm Luna.

[grice]

[ some form of odd recognition sparks through falco’s eyes— for some reason he distantly remembers the name, tries to parse it out of himself. his memory slowly begins to come undone the more he tugs on what felt more like the present to him. so he asks, with careful words and tentative remembrance: ]

You’re . . . Aren’t you Peter’s—?

[ he trails off the words, but clearly ends it with a question— just as the clip of cloven hooves thud against beaten earth and the crystalized antlers of the mourning stag begin to rise above the trench’s line of sight.

it seems like luna won’t have to wait long, to return to wherever she had remembered being in beforehand. ]

do you want to keep going with them back in Trench or wrap here? I'm good with either!

[creidim]

[ Her expression gives an answer before she can speak: Aren’t you Peter’s—? She brightens at the mention of the name, eyebrows raising and the barest hint of a smile curling at the corners of her mouth. He knows Peter, and in turn about her. Which... isn't surprising, really.

But the sound of hooves makes her look up, the smile slipping into a look of open wonder. Luna slowly gets back to her feet to get a good look, mesmerized by the sight of it. She's... read about this creature, Rituals of Trench. And while some kinds of illustrations are not nearly as accurate, there's no mistaking it: a great white stag, a circle of icy antlers. It's beautiful.

And then, quietly, she realises: a Winter Mourning brought her here. That's how she ended up in this boy's memory. ]

The Winter Mourning Stag. [ Spoke in a whisper. ] It comes when it's time.

[ Time for the memory to end. ]

we can wrap up here and handwave the trench meet, if that's okay!

[grice]

[ —she was. that's all that was needed for falco to understand, and while he doesn't quite smile, his own features seem soft and uplifted. the mourning stag raises itself beautifully, and now it feels cold as the memory of this place dims, the people hum rather than speak, and the blasts or gunfire is nothing but a whispering pop. it's as if he were about to sleep again and couldn't keep his consciousness awake for too long, but he could for this, he thinks, and raises his hand to get a hold of luna's sleeve in a tender tug, one that only hopes to get her attention. ]

Can I find you, Miss Luna—?

[ he hopes she heard that, because he would. they'd have plenty to talk about, that was for certain. ]

that works! ❤

[creidim]

[ It's an oddly peaceful end to a moment so loud and chaotic, like the hushed quiet of a snowy scene. She feels tired, but pleasantly so. That she might simply melt into sleep in a few seconds. Until she feels the gently tug of her sleeve. It certainly does get her attention; even if she's slow to react.

She manages to drag her gaze from the Mourning Stag, eyebrows raised in curiosity for a moment. Can he find her—? She raises a finger to her face, points to her eye. ]

Gaze. [ Where he might find her. And then she smiles gently with a single nod. ] You can find me.