sad space dad had a bad (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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deercountry2022-02-08 04:06 pm
shiro2hero) wrote in deercountry2022-02-08 04:06 pm
Entry tags:
you took your toll on me {OPEN}
Who: Shiro & OPEN
What: Catch all for February event + newsletter
When: All month long (2/1 - 2/28)
Where: Various - listed in prompts
Content Warnings: attempted harm via combat, mild altered mental state via chocolates, blood ritual in closed threads
CHOCOLATE EFFECT
Almond + Strawberry - compelled to communicate exclusively through song - emotions projected through an aura
(1) Market / Willful Machine
Shiro really doesn't notice anything's wrong. Or even different. As far as he knows, it's just another day. Just another round of errands before he heads off to work with the Wakers. Maybe he'll find a familiar face out there. Most likely not. His hands are in his pockets, casually wandering down the boardwalk before his shift - and... is he humming? He's humming. And apparently oblivious to it. Though, once he draws an audience, that very well may change. There also appears to be some kind of light show going on in his vicinity. A pulse around him in muted colors of dim twilight.
That's probably okay. Right?
(2) Any Stage
... It does change. At some point, any point in the month, should you walk into a venue with a stage, or an open mic, Shiro's there. Up on the stage. Where he's somehow gotten hold of his Space Ho crop-top, and appears to be in the middle of a reprise of Under Pressure. The light show around him is still going strong, bursting in brilliant yellows and golds shot with silver. If he spots a familiar face in the crowd, he cuts it off and reaches out to haul the individual on stage with him. The lighting follows his movements, swirling in time with whoever he sees - green-gold, purple-silver.
"It's so great to see you!" is what he says, before immediately launching into some other song. And, oh no. Oh, no is he dancing. He's dancing with the poor soul on stage with him.
Have you heard it before? Maybe? Do you resist going on stage? If so, he's going to be serenading his feelings from stage, probably more embarrassing than just getting up there. Because Shiro's not about to stop.
Shiro really doesn't notice anything's wrong. Or even different. As far as he knows, it's just another day. Just another round of errands before he heads off to work with the Wakers. Maybe he'll find a familiar face out there. Most likely not. His hands are in his pockets, casually wandering down the boardwalk before his shift - and... is he humming? He's humming. And apparently oblivious to it. Though, once he draws an audience, that very well may change. There also appears to be some kind of light show going on in his vicinity. A pulse around him in muted colors of dim twilight.
That's probably okay. Right?
(2) Any Stage
... It does change. At some point, any point in the month, should you walk into a venue with a stage, or an open mic, Shiro's there. Up on the stage. Where he's somehow gotten hold of his Space Ho crop-top, and appears to be in the middle of a reprise of Under Pressure. The light show around him is still going strong, bursting in brilliant yellows and golds shot with silver. If he spots a familiar face in the crowd, he cuts it off and reaches out to haul the individual on stage with him. The lighting follows his movements, swirling in time with whoever he sees - green-gold, purple-silver.
"It's so great to see you!" is what he says, before immediately launching into some other song. And, oh no. Oh, no is he dancing. He's dancing with the poor soul on stage with him.
Have you heard it before? Maybe? Do you resist going on stage? If so, he's going to be serenading his feelings from stage, probably more embarrassing than just getting up there. Because Shiro's not about to stop.
Peanut Butter - you now have animal features
(1) Arrival
Initially, when the massive, mottled grey and white wings appeared, Shiro kind of panicked. Who wouldn't, when your coat splits open, and enormous feathers sprout? He doesn't remember anything weird happening, even though he should. It doesn't hurt, thankfully, it's more startling than it is actually painful. But it throws him off-balance enough to go sprawling sideways into a wall. Or a person. Hopefully it's a wall and not someone who's going to put up a fuss over being sprawled into by a dorito-shaped winged man.
"Sorry! I - excuse me!"
The unfortunate Trenchie ducks to one side, and, well. Said Winged Man ends up in a bush. Looking more put out and annoyed than actually hurt as he tries to untangle himself.
(2) Over Beach
In the end, though, you cannot keep Shiro grounded. Not when you hand him such an obvious way to get airborne again. The sand, mostly frozen still, is dotted with human-shaped impressions where it didn't quite work as planned. But looking upward, you'll see he got the hang of it pretty quickly. Sure, he had to rip up a shirt for this, but it's worth it. Even Shiro isn't reckless enough to go flying without some kind of protection on his skin, thank you.
He can be seen skimming low over the half-frozen waves, trailing a hand through them before climbing skyward again. The look on his face is... well. It's elated. It's overjoyed. He even climbs up higher than strictly necessary, spiraling, and gliding. It's a show, but one mostly for himself. Until he spots someone on the sand, and angles in for a landing.
Watch out!
Initially, when the massive, mottled grey and white wings appeared, Shiro kind of panicked. Who wouldn't, when your coat splits open, and enormous feathers sprout? He doesn't remember anything weird happening, even though he should. It doesn't hurt, thankfully, it's more startling than it is actually painful. But it throws him off-balance enough to go sprawling sideways into a wall. Or a person. Hopefully it's a wall and not someone who's going to put up a fuss over being sprawled into by a dorito-shaped winged man.
"Sorry! I - excuse me!"
The unfortunate Trenchie ducks to one side, and, well. Said Winged Man ends up in a bush. Looking more put out and annoyed than actually hurt as he tries to untangle himself.
(2) Over Beach
In the end, though, you cannot keep Shiro grounded. Not when you hand him such an obvious way to get airborne again. The sand, mostly frozen still, is dotted with human-shaped impressions where it didn't quite work as planned. But looking upward, you'll see he got the hang of it pretty quickly. Sure, he had to rip up a shirt for this, but it's worth it. Even Shiro isn't reckless enough to go flying without some kind of protection on his skin, thank you.
He can be seen skimming low over the half-frozen waves, trailing a hand through them before climbing skyward again. The look on his face is... well. It's elated. It's overjoyed. He even climbs up higher than strictly necessary, spiraling, and gliding. It's a show, but one mostly for himself. Until he spots someone on the sand, and angles in for a landing.
Watch out!
Coffee - erratic, irrational behavior, horrible hangover
(1) Trenchwood
How could he say no to coffee? Especially coffee with the added lingering effect of the peanut butter - wings, in this case. Right now, he feels invincible. He feels like he could take on the world. And there's only one place to test it. Out in the wilds, where hardly anyone ventures. If he can get some good aerial views of the woods, maybe that would be of help. Despite everything, despite the overwhelming urge to reckless action, he wants to use it for good. The huge appendages shift, flex.
"I'm going in." A beat. "Over." In that Shiro Tone of "you can't stop me".
So... there's that. Can't stop, won't stop.
Join him?
(2) The Crash - Mouse House
Residents of the Mouse House, or often visitors, who happen to be around early in the morning will catch sight of a rare beast. The fearsome Shirogane Blanket Slug. Dragging his heels through the house, in search of caffeine. Or water. Or any combination of the above. There's a blanket pulled over his head, and every step is a slow, pained shuffle. One would be forgiven for running, or calling for help. Especially when morning light pokes into the room, under the blanket.
Then Shiro groans. And slowly, so slowly, starts to sink down to the floor. Giving up on life altogether. Death would be kinder.
How could he say no to coffee? Especially coffee with the added lingering effect of the peanut butter - wings, in this case. Right now, he feels invincible. He feels like he could take on the world. And there's only one place to test it. Out in the wilds, where hardly anyone ventures. If he can get some good aerial views of the woods, maybe that would be of help. Despite everything, despite the overwhelming urge to reckless action, he wants to use it for good. The huge appendages shift, flex.
"I'm going in." A beat. "Over." In that Shiro Tone of "you can't stop me".
So... there's that. Can't stop, won't stop.
Join him?
(2) The Crash - Mouse House
Residents of the Mouse House, or often visitors, who happen to be around early in the morning will catch sight of a rare beast. The fearsome Shirogane Blanket Slug. Dragging his heels through the house, in search of caffeine. Or water. Or any combination of the above. There's a blanket pulled over his head, and every step is a slow, pained shuffle. One would be forgiven for running, or calling for help. Especially when morning light pokes into the room, under the blanket.
Then Shiro groans. And slowly, so slowly, starts to sink down to the floor. Giving up on life altogether. Death would be kinder.
WARMBLOOD EFFECT
(1) Help Machine
It's cold. It's snowy. Huge drifts piled up here and there, with patches of ice holding them in massive clumps in the street. This makes it difficult to get to and from where you may need to go. But! Struggle no more! Help is on the way!
By virtue of a one-man, one-horse plow machine. It's Shiro, a huge shovel. And an even bigger black horse. Meet Bob, everyone. The big animal, while on a lead, is apparently breaking paths through the snow with its enormous feet, followed closely by Shiro and his shovel, scooping out the new powder. He's ended up stripped down to a t-shirt, even in this weather, from the exertion, but shows no signs of slowing down any time soon. And hey, he's got the arms for this, why not use them? Even if... maybe, the scarring along said arms is a bit darker than it ever used to be. Then again, there's more grey in his hair these days, so -
"Hang on, we'll get this out of your way in no time," is what he'll say, outside any home they encounter, be it Sleeper or Trenchie.
(2) Slow Down
... even with the effect of his blood type urging him on, a man's got to crash eventually. And when he does, it's hard. Follow the trail of horse-man-plow long enough, and Shiro's obvious. Either sacked out on his feet inside Koz's, propped up by a broom, crashed on the sofa at Mouse House, or heck, maybe you hauled his dumb ass in off the street and made him tea. Where he will, promptly, fall asleep with his head on top of the mug.
His horse though? Nah, Bob is fine, really. More than fine. But he'll accept a treat or a pat.
It's cold. It's snowy. Huge drifts piled up here and there, with patches of ice holding them in massive clumps in the street. This makes it difficult to get to and from where you may need to go. But! Struggle no more! Help is on the way!
By virtue of a one-man, one-horse plow machine. It's Shiro, a huge shovel. And an even bigger black horse. Meet Bob, everyone. The big animal, while on a lead, is apparently breaking paths through the snow with its enormous feet, followed closely by Shiro and his shovel, scooping out the new powder. He's ended up stripped down to a t-shirt, even in this weather, from the exertion, but shows no signs of slowing down any time soon. And hey, he's got the arms for this, why not use them? Even if... maybe, the scarring along said arms is a bit darker than it ever used to be. Then again, there's more grey in his hair these days, so -
"Hang on, we'll get this out of your way in no time," is what he'll say, outside any home they encounter, be it Sleeper or Trenchie.
(2) Slow Down
... even with the effect of his blood type urging him on, a man's got to crash eventually. And when he does, it's hard. Follow the trail of horse-man-plow long enough, and Shiro's obvious. Either sacked out on his feet inside Koz's, propped up by a broom, crashed on the sofa at Mouse House, or heck, maybe you hauled his dumb ass in off the street and made him tea. Where he will, promptly, fall asleep with his head on top of the mug.
His horse though? Nah, Bob is fine, really. More than fine. But he'll accept a treat or a pat.
PTHUMERIAN EFFECT
(1) By The Shore - Moon Presence
It's late at night, out here on the shore. Not even the Wakers about. Maybe squid don't wash up this time of night. Whatever you're doing out here, you may very well feel like you're the only soul here. At least until something begins to sing - a sad, mournful melody, out over the waters. It's pretty darn huge, too.
"It's okay."
You wouldn't be blamed for jumping. Someone else is in fact, out here. It's Shiro, bundled up and sitting on a rock, quietly watching the Pthumerian figure. His expression is somber, sad - well, you know, more than usual anyway. He does try for a smile, and nods toward the creature singing. If you approach, you'll see there's a small burner set on the rock as well, the smell of incense faint and drifting upwards from it. Soft and pleasant, soothing.
"She won't hurt you." He must mean the big creature. There's no one else here. "Do you know who she is?"
(2) By The Gate - Mercy
He should be happier, right? Don't most people have a little thrill of something, a little bit of joy, close to their birthdays? But, no. There's nothing. There's just the heavy weight of his right arm. There's just the creeping knowledge the people dear to him are falling apart. Nothing he's done so far has managed to uphold any of his promises to any of them. That's becoming more and more apparent as the weeks go on, as the days go on and he sees the Corruption.
He sees the changes in everyone, except himself.
What does he desire? What does he crave? More than anything else... to be of use. To be worth the effort of knowing - to be able to make a difference. Yet, no matter what he does, people slip through his fingers like water. Promises fade to nothing.
We don't need you anymore
He stares up at the massive doors of the arena, the Gate. Maybe, at least, if he can't do anything, he can help the stronger ones train. That, surely will be of use, will rid him of the guilt scrabbling down his spine. He can already feel his brain slowly shut down as he takes a step forward towards those doors.
It's late at night, out here on the shore. Not even the Wakers about. Maybe squid don't wash up this time of night. Whatever you're doing out here, you may very well feel like you're the only soul here. At least until something begins to sing - a sad, mournful melody, out over the waters. It's pretty darn huge, too.
"It's okay."
You wouldn't be blamed for jumping. Someone else is in fact, out here. It's Shiro, bundled up and sitting on a rock, quietly watching the Pthumerian figure. His expression is somber, sad - well, you know, more than usual anyway. He does try for a smile, and nods toward the creature singing. If you approach, you'll see there's a small burner set on the rock as well, the smell of incense faint and drifting upwards from it. Soft and pleasant, soothing.
"She won't hurt you." He must mean the big creature. There's no one else here. "Do you know who she is?"
(2) By The Gate - Mercy
He should be happier, right? Don't most people have a little thrill of something, a little bit of joy, close to their birthdays? But, no. There's nothing. There's just the heavy weight of his right arm. There's just the creeping knowledge the people dear to him are falling apart. Nothing he's done so far has managed to uphold any of his promises to any of them. That's becoming more and more apparent as the weeks go on, as the days go on and he sees the Corruption.
He sees the changes in everyone, except himself.
What does he desire? What does he crave? More than anything else... to be of use. To be worth the effort of knowing - to be able to make a difference. Yet, no matter what he does, people slip through his fingers like water. Promises fade to nothing.
We don't need you anymore
He stares up at the massive doors of the arena, the Gate. Maybe, at least, if he can't do anything, he can help the stronger ones train. That, surely will be of use, will rid him of the guilt scrabbling down his spine. He can already feel his brain slowly shut down as he takes a step forward towards those doors.
(( all prompts open to all! Closed ones in comments. If you want anything specific, feel free to hit me up here! ))
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At the same time, his gaze shifts between his friend's face and the magnificent pair of wings behind him.
"Where'd you get these?" he asks, mildly awestruck. "They're beautiful..."
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It gives him a chance to plant his feet more securely. Center his weight better for supporting the new appendages. And all the while, he can't seem to stop smiling.
"I - I think I had a candy? And then they just appeared."
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With a conspiratorial whisper, he leans in.
"You, uh...wouldn't happen to have another piece. Would you?"
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"I'm sorry," he says. Sincerely, deeply. "It'd be yours if I did."
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"I know," he says. "You're a generous guy."
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"I'll keep an eye out, all right?"
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Pain lances through his stomach like a glass-fanged viper fish tears into its prey. The sensation immediately conjures images of the ghastly elf monster — an undead chimera of animal parts covered in moss and obsidian — that hurt him and countless others that day at the Summoning Stones.
Teeth clenched, Vyng's knees drop to the sand, and he doubles over without another word.
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He's about to disagree. To shake his head and say something else. Reassure him, somehow. But he doesn't get that chance. His friend is suddenly in what looks like clear agony. Shiro's on his knees next to him in a heartbeat - the offending wings fanned out in an unconscious display of distress.
"Vyng?" Is he injured? Sick? He's reaching for the other's shoulders, to try and roll him over. To check for said injury. Check for anything that could tell him what just happened here. "What is it!"
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"I don't—" Vyng sucks in a breath. "I don't know. Something I ate?"
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Blame Amara for that one. He doesn't try to make Vyng uncurl himself - that won't help anything. All he can do is hover, and try to keep his friend calm.
"I can send the lion for water - just - breathe, okay? Breathe through it and we'll figure this out."
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But water. Water sounds good. He focuses on that and nods.
"Waterskin." He nods toward his bag. "In there. Careful, there's. A lot of jars..."
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Now is not the time. He'll debate it with Vyng later. Instead, going for the bag. "Waterskin, right." A pause. Because, with all the jars, and their previous conversations... he has to ask.
"You didn't drink some of your gasoline did you?"
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Thankfully, all the rattling around in Vyng's bag produces the water. Which he hands over immediately.
"I never said you did it on purpose either."
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He grabs the water, tries to sit up...and promptly regrets it. His insides are getting run through a meat-grinder. All Vyng can do is curl back in on himself tighter.
"Nghh..." Even with sweat collecting at his brow, he cracks a mirthless grin. "It sure as shit wouldn't be the dumbest thing I've done."
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Maybe he can drop the water slowly for him. Little sips, right? That's how you're supposed to do it.
"Just tilt your head up. I can hold you up if you need me to."
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Shiro's instructions are simple enough. Vyng lifts his head so he can drink from the waterskin. His eyes briefly close as the water trickles down his throat.
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"Any better?"
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Then again, his bar for "worse" is pretty damn low. (At least he's got a strong boy propping him up. That's nice.)
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Maybe. It's better than worse, right? But if it's not a whole lot better, then they probably need a better solution than this.
"Can you stand? I can try and carry you somewhere... off the beach."
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Another invisible twist of a knife. Vyng clutches his stomach and draws his knees up. "Fuck, that hurts!"
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It comes out more sharply than he meant it to. But he's worried. He can't help it. "Just. Lie still. I'll call Tuck."
Maybe from Vyng's omni. Just in case.
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He stares up at the gloomy sky. Concentrates on the rough fabric beneath his fingers.
"I wanna see if I can just...breathe through this."
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"Okay, if you're sure. But I'm still calling him if you can't."
Or, heck, if he has to, he'll fly out and find them.
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It doesn't feel like any food poisoning he's had before. Maybe it's some weird blood effect thing? But Shiro's a warmblood too, so that's out—
"What are you looking for, anyway?"
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i cant believe i have an icon for this
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