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! ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[he wont insult diluc's intelligence by deflecting and asking him what he means by "now", not when the man has seen how he was as a child-- mentally, there's very little difference. physically...]

Yes. This was almost two years ago, by my count.

[as they're speaking, the "younger" nehan has camouflaged himself in a manner he thinks is done well-- except he's all covered up in a fine suit, smudged here and there but still fine, and with a thick coat, but all of the other erunes are scantily-clad and proud, baring their backs to the world without a care. he really is just relying on the fact that he's smaller to get to his destination unscathed.

which is the collection of flying ships in the distance, this entire island a port town, a merchant town. jampacked with people from all walks of life to get to somewhere else, or to hawk their wares on the street. clearly, nehan is here to get to somewhere else using one of those airships. his nose starts bleeding, and he ducks into an alleyway to place his back against a wall for safety as he tips his head back and pinches his nose to deal with it.

the "older" nehan follows at a more relaxed gait, passersby going through him like ghosts.]

[Diluc walks at his side, silent and observing. He focuses on the fleeing younger Nehan but, passively scans for pursuit.

There has to be people slipping through the shadows after their prey. If it were him…he would go by rooftop. Moving up there like an owl, waiting for his target to get into an alley just like the one he ducked into.] Almost two years ago…what you saw from my past occurred four years ago, almost five now.

I imagined. You and Kaeya were quite young then. [and he knows how old kaeya is.

while the erune is in the alley, the crowd outside of it is hazy, and some don't even move-- of course, nehan wouldn't know what happened out there while he was taking care of his nose. then the crowd disappears entirely when nehan wipes it clean, and disappears further into the alleyway, towards the next street over, yet another part of the bustling market.

nehan follows the shade without another word, knowing what exactly happens next.]

You'll want to keep your eyes on this street, by the way. [the one they're now on, he means.

because there are also other men watching for nehan in the crowd, better hidden than him despite their similarly fine suits. and they all have guns, though none have their hands on their weapons yet.]

[His gaze snaps back to the street. That’s when he catches sight of them. Just like he thought they are moving into position. There is a sense of inevitably to this moment.

But then, he had already guessed that just from the context. He shuts all his emotions away in a box because the alternative is pissing Nehan off again. This already happened.

The suffering about to occur is in the scars on Nehan’s body. But his hands still clench at his sides because fire is in his soul.] We were. I had only just come of age.

[Everything had come crashing down on his birthday. And he was left with a dead father, a betrayer for a friend, and betrayed by the establishment he thought was just as gifts. But none of that matters right here and now.]

[diluc was at least eighteen then-- though nehan has no idea what the age of majority is in that world. or even mondstadt's culture.

then the older, more ragged nehan grabs diluc's shoulder, and glares into his eyes:]

You're insistent on knowing quite a bit about me and trying to avenge what has already been avenged, so watch everything.

[then he turns to himself, the younger nehan who takes a look around himself on the street, the mafiosi hidden in the crowd, and adjusts his glove and coat to make sure his scars are completely hidden-- he may be wearing a backless suit as is tradition with erunes, the same exact suit the older nehan is wearing right now, but that doesn't mean he wants the evidence of his pain broadcast for the world to see. then he strides towards a small, one-storey building, a small variety store advertising all sorts of knick-knacks. nehan situates himself near the door while his younger self takes a few steps inside, the door still ajar.

the hustle and bustle of the market is interrupted by the sound of a rifle being fired, like a booming thunderclap in a clear, sunny day. the nehan without a crutch and eyepatch falls forward, onto to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut, and while the coat drapes over him, covering most of him from view, blood quickly seeps out from under his body.]

[Maybe he should have been angry at the glaring. His demeanor usually makes him seem stern or unimpressed. Today his eyes only reflect caring and respect. Nehan is his teacher and someone he cares for. He will never blindly devote himself to another again.

But caring is okay and he does. He turns to the younger Nehan in silence, shutting all his emotions away and letting the flow of the slaughter come to him. Like chains moving through the darkness lit by ardent flames. He walks after the younger Nehan as if the world around him is nothing.

He positions himself at the other side of the door, watching, focused. The expression on his face that of a man aware a fight is ahead. Nothing prepares him for the bang and the fall. He grips the doorframe but his hand still reaches out before he can stop it. He forces it back and grits his teeth.

He cares. Maybe he's still so young despite the scars and tragedy that tore some of his innocence apart.]

[surprisingly, there are no more gunshots after the first-- the other assassins were only there to make sure the job was done, and because their sniper did their job the first time, they never followed up.

the memory starts to turn grey around the edges, and the people on the street start to disappear one by one. nehan doesn't know what happened to them after all, the only thing he remembers is himself, the slow way his body was failing him, and his own thoughts.]

As far as I was concerned in this moment, I was all alone. [the erune steps into the store, the sound now hollow, as if listening to it from a tube. he deftly avoids the blood, giving the body of his younger self a wide berth.

the erune on the floor barely moves after collapsing, cheek pressed against the worn, aged wood as he feels the blood leak out of his body from the wound and soak into the floor. his eyes are wide, shocked that someone managed to get the drop on him, that he was that careless despite his efforts. then, slowly, his expression begins to relax, and the next breaths he takes are shallow, and he doesn't attempt to get any more air than what his body allows.

when he finally closes his eyes, the memory finally losing all color, he's smiling.]

It was peaceful, despite the pain. I was never afraid of death after all. I simply thought I could finally rest.

Edited 2022-01-27 02:55 (UTC)

[His heart is enclosed in ice as he walks smoothly into the store. He feels the cold weight of his own control wrapped tightly around his soul. This isn't about him or his feelings.

He listens to Nehan's voice, visibly so, all of his focus on his teacher. In his mind's eye, the three-headed wolf looms and the blood is bright on his hands.]

But you survived, and that rest was denied. [There's that damn rain again, drumming in his head. Then he scrubs at his face.]

Not in the same way this place denied me, but still as egregious. [nehan sighs and waves his hand, more comfortable with his paleblood magic now than when they last met, the greys of the store and the man on the floor fading away. in its place, a curtained-off bed in a room of neutrals and pastels comes into view. everything is softer here, compared to harshness of the bustling market.

the bed is empty, but there's no mistaking what it's used for.]

I was told that just minutes after I was shot, those that I knew who were not of the mafia found me, and they brought me to a healer. But I refused to wake.

[then he points to that bed.]

I spent fifteen months in that bed you see now, dead to the world, and I woke in the form I am right now.

[The softer setting reminds him of the Cathedral. He can almost smell the dandelion filled breeze. He doesn’t know if he should clarify why this memory share happened.

That moment of everything hitting him and the fact Nehan was alive again flooded him and for a second he just needed to breathe. And for once he let himself sink down and feel it. Instead of trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. But he hasn’t gotten that moment. The pressure remains. Instead he says,] …I’ve known you’re tired of being alive since I saw that the beast you turned into.

Hmmmm.

[that's a considering sound as he looks diluc up and down, before sitting on top of the bed he used for over a year. nehan may have an excellent memory, but he doesn't remember what happened, meaning he has no memory of that time at all. all he knows is being attacked by a beast, and then waking up in his own tub as a squid, and one might as well have happened immediately after the other.]

I have no memory of that time, but you have no reason to lie.

The beast was that obvious, was it? [then he shakes his head, and raises his hand.] No, I'll release us from this memory first, and you come up to my room and have a seat. The armchair is still warm from the last well-wisher.

Edited 2022-01-28 15:27 (UTC)

[He doesn’t answer. Diluc forces himself to breathe slowly and nod. This is a small thing to have issues with. He feels he should be over it. But he is conscious that he has tucked everything that hurt into chest and tried to forget it.

For years. While trying to burn himself up in the process.] Do you want me to bring anything up with me?

[He could make food or a drink or whatever.]

No need, you may just come as you are. [then he reaches out with his gloved hand towards diluc. he doesn't actually connect, because he's already managed to forcibly end the memory before that.

he's awake, even if he wasn't earlier. perhaps that's how he managed to get into the memory diluc was viewing-- by being asleep. but no matter, he's awake now, and diluc is coming, so the erune sighs and tries to adjust his pillows to help himself recline.]

[There's very little time between Nehan waking and Diluc stepping through the doorway. Compared to the Diluc viewing the memory he looks different. His hair is pulled back in a long braid, and his clothes are simple, a tan turtle neck and black coat compared to his usual clothes.

While there's a weariness of the soul in his eyes. He has the look of a man who actually got more than strict three hours intervals of sleep. He glances at the armchair before he sits down.] I was patrolling in the woods when Dellingr saw you. You were a wolf with three heads, each with a different personality. I knew it was you when I saw what was left of your coat.

[unbeknownst to him, nehan's hands are bunched into his thick covers, as if holding onto an animal instead. but his omen is downstairs, keeping guard over the basement door, and not in nehan's lap where he's wanted. not that nehan would ever let anyone know that.]

I thought that was where my coat got to-- and my crutch, for that matter. [he sighs, trying to sit up better, but ends up sinking into the pillows, barely reclining, more laying. then he rubs the bridge of his nose with his right hand.]

I need new ones. [not looking forward to that.]

[Diluc closes his eyes. Neither item had survived the fight. Off the top of his head he could imagine what need to be traded for the service of constructing new ones.

He undoes his braid to give his hands something to do. Then leaves his hair loose about his shoulders and face. For now.] Yes, neither were recoverable. …I don’t like asking but I need to know, the side effects of coming back to life, are you dealing with those? Or are they present at all.

I'm in bed for a reason, Diluc. [a rebuke, but only just barely.] The state you found me in, that day on the beach... it's similar.

[meaning, the symptoms he told diluc about during the festival, nehan's pockets full of pumpkin seeds.]

Even if I had my crutch, I wouldn't be able to walk, anyway. My leg gives way and spasms if I lean on it for too long.

[Diluc folds up the black ribbon that had held his hair in the braid. He tucks it into his pocket.] It took me a week for the weakness to fade. …I was a corrupted ghost so there may be differences.

[He hasn’t said much about that time but the words hit the air. And they’re not wrong. He looks apologetic before he sinks back into the seat.]

You're implying that because I was killed by three grown men in a fight, my symptoms would be worse than yours.

[then nehan huffs, the sound more of derision than amusement.]

I can survive a week or so of pain and weakness.

[He shakes his head, his hair shifting. He really has too damn much of it.] I’m saying I don’t know a consistent timetable.

I hate I can’t tell you a definitive. Flynn was cut down and his weakness time was different from mine. And I assume like him you don’t have issues with your memory the way I did for…a while after.

[He doesn’t want to admit how long after. It bothers him.]

This death and revival price seems specific to the individual.

I can handle whatever side effects come my way, Diluc. [perhaps those words would have been reasusring if they didn't come from a gaunt, almost grey man laying in bed.]

I have survived worse, no matter how much I did not want to. This is fate... and karma.

I know. More than I could guess or imagine, you’ve survived. [But he doesn’t like that he can’t give any solace. He cares and that comes with a desire to help more than his usual. He rubs his face the gathers his hair and sets to braiding it again.]

Still, if there is anything you want me to do. I’ll do it. [In a reasonable time for once. He is learning to take breaks. It’s not only to take care of himself but indulge in this new relationship he has.]

I want you to quit fussing with your hair, when you clearly cant do a thing with it. [he came in with his hair braided but has trouble doing it now, and nehan can only surmise that someone else did it for him earlier.] Why you undid it earlier is beyond me.

[Diluc snorts, shifting slightly and crossing one leg over the other. He looks like the lord he was raised to be. Elegant and almost flawless if not for the spark of annoyance in his eye.] Because keeping my hands busy helps.

[Then his eyes widen then narrow and he snorts, like a horse considering tossing their rider.] Damn blood influence. Now I get why I said so much lately.

[He drops his hands to his lap. It was better he stop anyway. With his mind so occupied he can’t do his usual work with his hair.]

Then suffer over it, and all you have said to me. I never forget, after all.

[and even in his state, nehan is unbearably smug over it. perhaps he didn't get any major secrets out of diluc, not that he even cares to get them, but he knows enough.]

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