deercountry | [open] bad doggie!

Entry tags:

[open] bad doggie!

Who: Nehan + OPEN (one thread closed to specific people)
What: Someone (Nehan) died before someone's (Nehan's...) birthday, and not of fun. Featuring the aftermath of said death, an angry squid, and a doctor who's bad at taking care of himself.
When: forward-dated to Jan. 19 and later
Where: Primarily in Nehan's house, but the death thread is set in the wilderness.

Content Warnings: Violence, beasthood, death, paleblood powers, traumatic memories of near-death experiences, some nudity, Nehan-typical self-loathing, mentions of sex, Jan. TDM-style body horror. More TBA as they come up.

a: squid time

[nehan's tub is modest by human standards. large for a man of his (usual) size, but massive for a little squid, almost transparent save for its rainbow-colored insides, the most prominent of which is sunshine-yellow. the squid is absolutely tiny, no bigger than an adult human's hand.

there's a grab bar attached to the wall next to the tub, and the edge of the tub opposite it, clearly for nehan's use when he's an erune, because what will a squid do with those? he cant even reach them. though he's definitely trying, swimming back and forth, and occasionally reaching out with a little tentacle in an attempt to reach it.

but of course, he cant reach it, and that frustrates the squid enough that he jets out a little bit of dark ink. literally farting in anger, this one is.]

b: cant sleep (cw: really morbid jokes)

[the evening after nehan's squid was retrieved from the water and returned to his house, he returns to normal. annoyed as he rises from inky water and having to clean himself, but still, he's a skinny, scarred erune again, without the additions he gained over the past months. an erune that needs a long, long nap, and will head straight to his bed to have said long nap without even drying his hair.

if anyone chooses to stay longer and keep vigil over the once-squid... well, no one is stopping you, not even the omen, who is guarding the door to the basement underneath the stairs, and will not move away.

nehan might not be too much of a host however, when he's bedridden, having gone through a traumatic death and unable to control his limbs well. every time his left arm or leg has a spasm, his expression twists into one of chagrin and irritation, and he clutches at the limb until it stops. he tries to lay under his bedding just to lessen it... but well. that doesn't work as well as he hoped, and it's not proper medical procedure, but when it comes to himself, nehan has never cared a goddamn bit. still...]

... Stay a little longer. Without anything to do, I'll have another death soon, and this time of boredom. [that was a joke. but it's bad and he knows it's bad.]

c: winter mourning's last hurrah (nehan's memories/cw: eventual near-death experience)

[there is a winter mourning in nehan's house, a wreath laying in the seat of an armchair in the living room, and despite looking innocent, it is still active. and if it's touched, instead of dragging some poor unsuspecting bastard into a dream, it drags them into a memory.

the nehan in this memory is an adult, just like the one in bed, recovering from his violent bout with death-- but he's also different. seemingly younger, more filled-out, less scraggly hair, and lacking in the eyepatch and crutch that has become nehan's signature. but his ears have much less fur on them and are tattered at the ends, the shadows under his eyes are darker, and he's sporting fresh bruises on his face, like he's just been in a brawl. or more than just a brawl-- he looks like he's been beaten within an inch of his life.

still, he's walking amongst a crowd that doesn't seem to notice him, in a crowded marketplace in a bustling town with airships flying high above them. he looks like he knows where he's going, and behind him... behind him is another nehan, walking much slower, bearing a crutch and an eyepatch-- the nehan most people know, by now.

he pauses when he notes he's not alone, turning around and ears twitching, then tilts his head towards his younger self as if to say come along.]

d: the days after: achelliac (cw: nudity, self-loathing)

[achelliac's usual clientele may be sailors, but at least they don't turn nehan away. and, as he finds out, some of his fellow customers are fascinated enough with him that he just decides to indulge them with what they want. even if he's here just to deal with the aches of his body that still linger after his rebirth. at least he's no longer suffering from muscle spasms.

the hot springs will deal with what other aches he gets in this place, in any case, that's why he's here-- get himself up to snuff so he can get back to work without problems.

making his way to the pool from the showers is always an adventure in going slow to accommodate his too-thin, too-scarred body and not slipping, just because he leaves his cane with his clothes (he needs a new crutch, a cane just isn't the same...). though he's right at the edge of the pool, he pauses when he sees another man there already.]

May I, or do you prefer privacy? [perhaps he should have asked that before he got naked...]

wildcard
[[ hit me with your best shot-- everything is a-ok and will match prose or action, but the actual boss battle is restricted to certain characters. nehan dies on the 19th, revives as a squid on the 22nd and is returned to his house on the same day, while his headcanon birthday is on the 20th. thanks to #justpalebloodthings, nehan can admit that his birthday is coming up to any palebloods. he is also a paleblood, so people can speak to him more freely as well.

people are free to come and go as they like. snooping is encouraged, but the basement is guarded by nehan's omen. i'm also open to changing the memory in prompt c. if we haven't threaded yet, we can just handwave the first meeting and nehan giving out his address. if you're unsure, just ask! ]]

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[Hmmm. Mammal fur's trickier to deal with than an elf's plumes, and Illarion's never had much practice trimming it. But that unkempt state will not do...

He makes a note to himself, and gives a huffing laugh at Nehan's jibe.] Perish the thought! If you are my wife and not hunting with me, you are heavy with my child.

[He eyes Nehan up and down in a mock-critical appraisal.] And you are worryingly too thin for me to put a child in, impossibilities aside.

No--if we are being primitives, you are a wounded member of my flock. I hunt for you until you are well; it is what is done.

[where is his knife? hidden in his clothes. it's been long-cleaned of any blood, stripped down and scrubbed and put back together again, but he wishes it still had vileblood contaminants on it, for the wound that he fantasizes about putting on the man. perhaps an onlooker wouldn't even suspect such thoughts from him, as he blandly looks at the person before him.]

No thank you. [his tone is frostier than the coldest, windiest mountain.]

I wont play that role.

Edited 2022-01-19 14:30 (UTC)

[A-ha. That was not taken as the joke it was meant.

Illarion returns the look mildly, not missing the mismatch between it and Nehan's tone.]

Of "wife"? I do not ask. This is what I court women for.

[nehan sighs.]

No. Nevermind that-- this conversation is going nowhere. Find something else to talk about, or do with your free time. I wont accept something dead on my front step.

Find someone else to fuss over and feed. [then he goes back to combing out his fur with his fingers. not the easiest of tasks when he only has one arm to use properly.]

Edited (i am a forgetful binch) 2022-01-19 16:24 (UTC)

[Not the cultural misunderstanding he'd assumed, then--but then it's Nehan.

Illarion should know better by now, but like someone being stubborn has ever kept him from offering help.

He echoes the sigh, though his has more amusement to it.]

As if I am a cat, leaving you decapitated mice out of pity.

[Though, hang on. Watching Nehan finger-comb his hair like is going to bother him more the longer it goes on.

He climbs out of the pool without another word and pads off down the hall with wet footsteps.

He's back inside a minute, carrying a bone comb with wide-spaced teeth.]

This is not fussing over you, [he remarks, as he sits back down on the pool's edge, within touching distance of Nehan.] This is having proper tools for the job. May I?

[she didn't mean to snoop. it's more that when she knocked on the door and found that there was no answer, she turned the handle just because and it opened. and an unlocked door with no answer is alarming enough, so regardless of her inner, rabbit-hearted protests to turn back, that there may be danger inside this empty house she's only visited once to get her blood draw, Haru ventures inside.

maybe her human form helps with her boldness, but it's more that Haru has a bad habit of tamping down on life-preserving instinct until the last minute, and she's become well aware these past few weeks that the human body is just as vulnerable as a rabbit's. she came to see if there've been any other changes besides what's visible. but it seems like the man who drew her blood all those months ago isn't around...

she's poking around with her wolf omen at her side, Wolfsbane sticking close. nothing...seems wrong here besides the emptiness, and soon enough Haru is bored and decides to leave. but not before popping in to the bathroom before she journeys back home, pausing for a moment to tie her hair back in a braid when--

there's a splash and dark movement from the tub. which is filled with water. which is strange, come to think of it. who leaves a tub full when there's no one around?? she looks over in time to see a squid flitting about angrily in the tub, right as it lets out a stream of black ink, darkening the water so it's harder to see the creature.

making a small noise of intrigue, Haru gets on her knees to have a better look in, holding onto the edge of the basin.]

Do you need me to change the water? Or uh...damn, my Sea Speak is so rusty...

[Look, talking to a squid isn't abnormal where she's from. But, as she remains leaning over wracking her head to remember basic vocab, her fingers are just within reach for a tentacle to grab hold...]

Nehan!

[ It's a desperate thing: Flynn has no idea if any of his teacher is awake in there, is able to hear them at all. He wants to see if Nehan reacts in any way, but more than that, he wants to make himself a very obvious target.

Watching Ives' movements—Flynn is here to be a distraction, after all, to keep the beast on its toes while he attempts to fix this—Flynn bolts to the other side, to the head that appears younger than the rest of them. If he can manage to get close enough, Flynn will smack at any limb he can manage with the flat of his blade, attempting to draw just enough attention that perhaps Ives won't get immediately bitten. ]

[the scent of blood has its attention, but so do the chains from the same source as freshly-spilled blood. the wolf has a choice to make all three heads making a quick decision, before it turns itself towards the fresh blood, much closer than the other source. nevermind the loud, unnatural rattling noises, when they've slowed down.

and it runs, full-tilt, as if its thin body doesn't even stop it. it's a hungry beast out for food, and it will snap its jaw closed the moment it's close enough to its target-- only to stop at the last moment when it no longer smells fresh blood from the target it was aiming for, but rather ice. all three heads shake themselves to their shared tail in confusion.]

[the erune's nostrils flare when he sees what the man has in his hand. he was beginning to relax when he was left alone, relieved that the conversation is (possibly) over, but then the darkblood man comes back, and his shoulders hike up.

he eyes the comb warily.]

Do you know how to brush fur? [he's a bird-person, not an erune with fur.]

[~~He's such a bird-person he hasn't even got any weird mammalian vestigial bits like nipples or a navel. Comparative anatomy!~~]

I am no mage at it, but I have brushed human hair often enough, and been honored once or twice with currying a great-wolf for her orc. What I do not understand, I will ask about.

[He studies the erune's head and ears carefully, already knowing the answer before he asks,] You have an undercoat I must be careful of?

Yes. [but given how his fur has grown so unkempt, it's not going to be easy to work with, or around.

not to mention...]

My ears were also torn and ripped at certain points. They have healed, but it's impossible to knit the tears together.

[He frowns thoughtfully at that, slowly setting the comb down.]

So they may catch, if I am not being very careful. Might I feel these?

[He can see them, of course, but that didn't teach his hands what their edges felt like or how not to mangle them.

And he really would not mind the excuse to touch Nehan kindly.]

[with intense suspicion, nehan looks up at the man. he's used to people tugging and ripping at them, his owners leaving his ears in tatters if they're particularly displeased, and they never really fully healed, only a growth of thick, badly trimmed fur now hiding them from view. that doesn't stop him from being defensive when others come to touch them, though.

eventually, he unclenches his jaw.]

Very well.

[Nehan charges forward and Diluc retreats to bait him towards Flynn. He has minutes before the wounds seal over. The chains snap out to create a screen, made of ice they glitter in the light.

He flips the knife to his wounded arm and opens up cuts on his right arm. Nehan is fast but like this he is a hair faster. As long as he doesn’t pause or slow down. Dellingr circles, ready to strike when the timing is right.

The chains snap out towards the jaws of whatever head the others aren’t focused on to confuse and distract.

Minutes again before his cuts seal. He would have to open up more. That is fine.] I can only keep his attention for so long. My wounds automatically seal over in minutes.

Edited 2022-01-20 16:00 (UTC)

[Diluc falls in step with the Nehan he knows without a backward glance. He doesn’t speak. This isn’t a time to ask questions.

And he doesn’t feel like asking anything or letting him be anything but focused and somewhat numb. He nods to acknowledge he got the message and looks to Nehan.

He looks tired and his usual masks aren’t present. Life had found a chink in his armor and finally he says,] I was going to sit for a moment. Seems that wasn’t allowed.

[Depending on what he sees he might wrap the damn thing in towels and move it, or go find his wayward knight.]

Bind the claws if you can! [Ives calls out in order, though whether that rings with any authority is entirely up to Diluc and Flynn. The Giant sees where it can slip in close. He charges, more offensive than stealthy. Aiming his horns in first, he charges like a ram. If jaws thrash his way, catching those will be like snapping teeth against solid stone. He'll just have to tank claws tearing at flesh, having them out of the way is more important if he's going to grab the beast's neck and hold there.

Ives runs into the beast at full speed, battering into Nehan's collar if not caught with teeth. He's hoping his positioning and strength will slam him into the creature full force, around it's collar.

Because Ives doubts he can get the beast entirely under his thrawl without his staff, he'll improvise, focus on just the already tired looking head... if apart of the beast is asleep, it should be at least slightly less aggressive- right?]

[That look of suspicion is one Illarion's sadly familiar with by long experience. A shrike got it frequently, no matter how benign his intent--and from the look of Nehan's ears, people who handled them didn't often have benign intent.]

Thank you for permitting this. [There's a certain solemnity to the words; he means them in more than a casual way.

He leans forward, taking one of the erune's ears in both hands and working his fingers through the thick fur to feel where the tears are. He's gentle about it, thorough without fondling anything. The second ear gets the same treatment.

Quietly,] Your ears are not this way from fighting your rivals, I take it.

[the squid closes the rest of the distance, because of course nehan is just Like This, even in this form. there's just no point in being timid. nehan grabs her finger with his tentacles and hangs on.

she is, for now, fortunate that he's not jetting water or ink at her.]

Sit, you? [nehan scoffs at him.] You never rest.

[but nehan can hazard at a guess as to what brought the human here-- what brought them both here. nehan was not dreaming, and did not leave any personal item of his with diluc, so he can only imagine that diluc grabbed ahold of a keepsake himself... if one could consider the winter mourning wreath a keepsake.

idiot. he knows what happened the last time he saw nehan's memories.

the erune shakes his head, and turns back to the one that's just two years younger than himself, harried, tired and bruised. the younger nehan looks around himself, ears lowering the more he sees-- the more people he spots with very particular insignias on them, the same ones embroidered on his scarf, and the lapels of his shirt. he ducks into a crowd of people, just to hide himself among them. it helps that he's smaller than most everyone, save for the dwarf-like harvins and horned draph women.]

[nehan handles the touches to his ears with silent, long-suffering dignity. it feels much like the way ives touches them, but more clinical, and lighter-- enough to make them flutter under the man's hand, like he's trying to dislodge a fly.]

I have no rivals. [which, of course, means no. that the darkblood man has the right of it.]

If I had been fighting someone, they wouldn't have been allowed to do such a thing to me in the first place. But I wasn't allowed to retaliate or protect myself from those who handled me.

[He takes his hands back once he's finished his inspection, picking up the comb and simply holding it before him as he listens to Nehan's response.

As he weighs Nehan's response, and his expression darkens like the approach of a thundercloud.]

I see. [He needn't voice his conclusion aloud; he knows very well the evil the erune's describing. There is a wealth of suppressed anger in those two words.

He takes up the comb, takes a handful of Nehan's hair, and begins working on it with the same delicate care he showed the other man's ears. And, blessedly, for the moment, he's silent.]

[nehan scowls the entire time, even as the man is being more gentle than expected. he's determined to hate this entire affair, simply because it's about his ears and there's an undercurrent of understanding that yes, what he thinks happened to nehan is exactly what happened... and he dislikes that.

even if... his head feels much less heavy because his hair is no longer a tangled mess.

but his ears cant stop flapping because he's unused to this kind of attention.]

[Haru is a girl who gets down and dirty with all kinds of creepy crawlies that visit or invade her garden, so even though she does startle somewhat at a slimy tentacle reaching out of dark water to hold her finger, she doesn't react much.

Maybe a cute girl like her should worry about tentacles but that's not the kind of manga she's from.

Instead, she wiggles the finger Nehan's tentacle has held onto, pulling up slightly to get a better view of the familiar-looking creature. Reminds her of the beach...]

Oh! Uh...pokra pokra?

[That's "hello" in Sea Creature language. Her accent is terrible but it's not like Nehan would actually know that.

Carefully, she tucks her free hand underneath his squishy squid body, pulling him out of the water, wheels slowly turning in her head.]

...you're a Sleeper, aren't you?

Diluc, bind it—I will distract him. My blood doesn't freeze!

[ As he says that, Flynn yanks the blade of his sword along his own palm, spilling blood that looks entirely normal, red and iron-bright. Hopefully he can keep the focus of those other two heads as he moves away from Diluc and toward the beast, aiming to cloud its senses. ]

[the beast, of course, thrashes. one length of chain around one jaw, and a giant holding onto one neck, it's very clearly trapped, and it certainly feels that way. the one free head, the smallest one, tries to turn around and around to bite, but is too timid to do so. but with the other two fueling the body, the wolf fights, trying to pull itself away to recoup.

but what can be felt through paleblood is not rage or an animalistic hunger, but an extremely heavy layer of bone-tiredness, capable of latching onto the chest like hooks and drag one down into the dirt with it.

not a good thing to be feeling while dealing with a beast trying to eat you. the head the giant is trying to hold onto has already shaken off the spell, and is trying to bite him.]

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[open] bad doggie!

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a. u kno what? squid time.

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C, Winter mourning’s last hurrah.

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cw: incoming mentions of slavery

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