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! ]]

Threaded | Flat

[nehan's rapidly-accelerating beasthood should have raised alarms with people by now, but he has managed to keep most of it under wraps, and deftly maneuver around awkward questions if he couldn't. unfortunately, that also means that there was no one to help him find a cure, or a way to slow said beasthood until it's far, far too late to do anything.

the catalyst is being attacked by a beast on the outskirts of the city. from there, everything was just... uncontrollable. the attacking beast was defeated, but not by nehan's own strength, but by what he became.

the resulting beast is one on the smaller side, barely larger than a horse, still undoubtedly a beast-- a three-headed wolf with dark, unkempt fur that looks like it's been allowed to grow wild for years. the right head is smaller than its companions with puppy-like features, sorrowful and avoidant, turning away from living beings. the middle head is aggressive, angry, ears tattered and bare of fur, the leader that drives the body forward. the left head is silent, duller fur than the other two, and keeps its eyes closed. this would have been just any beast made from an unknown person heading straight to willful machine, if it weren't for a formerly-white labcoat tangled around the neck of the left head, and the remains of a very particular forearm crutch on the beast's front right paw, barely hanging on by a strap.

if there's any intelligence left of the erune in this beast, that remains to be seen. but it's headed straight for civilization.]

[The pool's lone occupant looks up at the sound of Nehan's voice, and grins sharp and sudden to see the erune back on his feet.]

Much the opposite; I am just thinking, it is a very great shame there is no one to share this with.

[It's part Darkblood gregariousness and part Illarion's very much enjoying being alive while it lasts, pursuing situations and sensations that mean little to him while dead. The sheer sumptuous comfort of being warm again, in the middle of winter, had been a potent draw.]

Come join me.

[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...]

[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.]

[ it wasn't easy taking care of a guy post-squidification, you know? but luckily, the good doctor figaro is here to help. of course he'd known that his fellow healer had gone off the deep end thanks to their talk over his "last meal", but figaro would be lying if he isn't curious as to how he'd died.

so yes, he'll stay around; nehan isn't usually the type to ask of that, after all, and the nihilistic joke got this doctor to laugh a little, in fact, as he helps nehan get into bed. ]

Mm, of course. I might have to drop again tomorrow though to see how you're doing, so at least you won't have to miss me too much.

[ ok this joke is even more terrible ]

What do you usually do with your free time, anyway?

[this is the first time he's felt something tug on his heart that's not a downward pressure threatening to drown him. he follows the tug out of curiosity, moving faster when the tug becomes an all-encompassing yearning that continues to drive him forward. and, when he spots a certain person who catches his eye, all he can do is breathe out the man's name, knowing immediately that this is who he should meet.]

Venti...

[his leg feels worse when he starts moving again, but he doesn't care-- he wants to get to venti, right now. his leg, after all, always feels terrible. though he doesn't notice yet that the finger tips of his left hand have begun to melt like a candle.]

[childe requested a study session, but nehan has shed into a form he never thought he would have again-- or wished he could have again. he has two functional arms and legs and eyes again, but he has aggression running through his veins, unlimited power that comes with the side effect of wanting to brutally murder everything in his path. hence choosing childe as part of a lesson. (well, not really, this is for nehan, mostly.)

he is a warrior, he will be fine. nehan might not be, but if he dies, so much the better.

nehan has controlled himself all the way to an empty, barren field that carries a whiff of old blood (or is that just the usual for trench?), though not completely successfully, when he glares instead of looks, and has to constantly flex his hands and shoulders for the need or something to do. but eventually, he cant control himself any longer, and takes a stance, breathing heavily with the exertion of controlling his urges-- and the anticipation.]

Come on, then. [his voice is deep, a growl that even a human man could achieve if he tried hard enough.] Fight.

"I have something of interest to you. Come when possible, but no longer than a few days, I may be on a deadline. The door is unlocked for you."

[that's the voice message he sent to the bird-man, and then settles into a large, squashy armchair to wait. he would have liked to lay down, but in his state, if he goes to bed, he's likely to fall asleep to the next morning and potentially miss his bird-caller coming in.

holding a dishcloth wrapped around ice to his cheek is undignified, but he'll live.]

Threaded | Flat

CUE THE BOSS BATTLE MUSIC (closed to ives, flynn, diluc)

d, feat: temporarily alive illarion

a. u kno what? squid time.

C, Winter mourning’s last hurrah.