don’t make me go wumbo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
grice) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2022-03-02 12:48 am
grice) wrote in deercountry2022-03-02 12:48 am
like, zoinks
who: falco grice and you!
what: a march catchall! a couple general open prompts are available along with some closed, perhaps open event prompts will be added in later! please refer to falco’s corruption page for a rundown; he’ll be experiencing low to mid levels of corruption throughout the month! if you choose to have your character injured in the trenchwood prompt, falco will be healing them with his blood!
when: throughout march!
where: throughout trench!
content warnings: child soldiers, possible gun violence, self harm (for healing purposes), possession, parasitism, slime, corruption, will add more as they come!
ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴇɴᴄʜᴡᴏᴏᴅ
[ helping with general beach cleaning once he’d retrieved the injured, dead, or pieces of them after the leviathan’s passing was what falco had busied himself with for most of the first few days after the surfacing. he’d managed to get enough rest to function, though just as any his spirits weren’t quite high. plans to shadow more blood ministers were put on hold when falco began to exhibit a mild flu— just the spring season rolling its way in, perhaps, even though the boy had never had allergies in his short life. one can find him trekking through trenchwood for new herbs, roots and leaves that could be used for oils, mixes and healing agents.
any approach made toward falco will be heard eventually, whether by his own ears or the alarming shriek of his pygmy falcon omen from farther off. he’s usually quite the tame boy to approach, but on this day— the words that press into his thoughts and influence his actions are a slithery: yoͦuͧ can’t ǝʌᴉʌɹns if you don’t вⷡiͥᴛⷮeͤ.
he doesn’t hesitate to lift and aim his rifle at the direction of his approacher, and in worst-case scenarios— he fires and reloads with alarming precision, not counting the shot, which either hits or misses by the push of the breeze. he hasn’t learned that overnight— he’s always known during his stays across the universe, now in trench, learned since he was eight, when the weapon barely fit in his arms and he’d still be forced to carry it across bumpy terrain, mud and rainfall with a backpack and helmet in tow. his place as a warrior candidate was not earned without merit. despite not using most of his capabilities, he was a trained child. training is all it takes to make a dent.
the startling contrast, of course, was that falco would never shoot first, if one knew him well. with the way his heart bleeds for other’s, it’s easy enough to assume he would never shoot at all. he’d never want to enough to take initiative, at the very least. here, for a split second and then more, the look in his eyes is sharp and as at the ready as a dog baring its teeth. it doesn't last; what comes over him after realization snaps his attention in two is utter terror. ]
Oh . . . Oh, no.
ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ
[ alternatively, one may find him at the bare coast of a beach that was once a battlefield, now a graveyard for beastblood remains. it's hard not to step onto the black sand and realize the floor is not naturally smoothed from the ocean's winds. there're man-made lines there, and there, and everywhere for a wide stretch of distance, circumference. look closely, and there are words— words upon words upon words, upside down, right sided, sideways, sometimes even overlapping:
the young teen with sandy blond hair and his black hood blown back has a stick in hand, focused on this activity and he’s writing it all with an unfit, too casual swing to his aura. those with a certain predisposition to recognize the energy of an entity would feel it like a flash: fear. it makes your gut drop the more you read and repeat the words. it gains strength the more you give it attention. falco himself seems to be oddly himself, at least, sniffy through his stuffy red nose and lifting his head to greet those who approach him. he’s a little . . . twitchy, pale and flaking, perhaps even slightly thinner, but he does seem happy for the visit. his purple tinted eyes (that’s wrong) say so— ]
Ah— Hello, [ sir or ma’am (or nothing, if you’re around his age). ].
[ a bow of his head, a soft, shying smile— he thinks you’re regarding his drawing, what he knows is a rendition of perle, but something isn’t right. starting with the fact that he didn’t draw perle at all. ]
what: a march catchall! a couple general open prompts are available along with some closed, perhaps open event prompts will be added in later! please refer to falco’s corruption page for a rundown; he’ll be experiencing low to mid levels of corruption throughout the month! if you choose to have your character injured in the trenchwood prompt, falco will be healing them with his blood!
when: throughout march!
where: throughout trench!
content warnings: child soldiers, possible gun violence, self harm (for healing purposes), possession, parasitism, slime, corruption, will add more as they come!
ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴇɴᴄʜᴡᴏᴏᴅ
[ helping with general beach cleaning once he’d retrieved the injured, dead, or pieces of them after the leviathan’s passing was what falco had busied himself with for most of the first few days after the surfacing. he’d managed to get enough rest to function, though just as any his spirits weren’t quite high. plans to shadow more blood ministers were put on hold when falco began to exhibit a mild flu— just the spring season rolling its way in, perhaps, even though the boy had never had allergies in his short life. one can find him trekking through trenchwood for new herbs, roots and leaves that could be used for oils, mixes and healing agents.
any approach made toward falco will be heard eventually, whether by his own ears or the alarming shriek of his pygmy falcon omen from farther off. he’s usually quite the tame boy to approach, but on this day— the words that press into his thoughts and influence his actions are a slithery: yoͦuͧ can’t ǝʌᴉʌɹns if you don’t вⷡiͥᴛⷮeͤ.
he doesn’t hesitate to lift and aim his rifle at the direction of his approacher, and in worst-case scenarios— he fires and reloads with alarming precision, not counting the shot, which either hits or misses by the push of the breeze. he hasn’t learned that overnight— he’s always known during his stays across the universe, now in trench, learned since he was eight, when the weapon barely fit in his arms and he’d still be forced to carry it across bumpy terrain, mud and rainfall with a backpack and helmet in tow. his place as a warrior candidate was not earned without merit. despite not using most of his capabilities, he was a trained child. training is all it takes to make a dent.
the startling contrast, of course, was that falco would never shoot first, if one knew him well. with the way his heart bleeds for other’s, it’s easy enough to assume he would never shoot at all. he’d never want to enough to take initiative, at the very least. here, for a split second and then more, the look in his eyes is sharp and as at the ready as a dog baring its teeth. it doesn't last; what comes over him after realization snaps his attention in two is utter terror. ]
Oh . . . Oh, no.
ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ
[ alternatively, one may find him at the bare coast of a beach that was once a battlefield, now a graveyard for beastblood remains. it's hard not to step onto the black sand and realize the floor is not naturally smoothed from the ocean's winds. there're man-made lines there, and there, and everywhere for a wide stretch of distance, circumference. look closely, and there are words— words upon words upon words, upside down, right sided, sideways, sometimes even overlapping:
ᴛʜᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ s͛iͥleͤncͨeͤ ᴛʜᴇ
ǝɔuǝʅᴉs ǝɥʇ ǝɔuǝʅᴉs ǝɥʇ ǝɔuǝʅᴉs ǝɥʇ s̶i̶l̶e̶n̶c̶e̶ ᴛʜᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ǝɔuǝʅᴉs ǝɥʇ ǝɔuǝʅᴉs ǝɥʇ ǝɔuǝʅᴉs ǝɥʇ
ᴛʜᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ s͛iͥleͤncͨeͤ ᴛʜᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ
the young teen with sandy blond hair and his black hood blown back has a stick in hand, focused on this activity and he’s writing it all with an unfit, too casual swing to his aura. those with a certain predisposition to recognize the energy of an entity would feel it like a flash: fear. it makes your gut drop the more you read and repeat the words. it gains strength the more you give it attention. falco himself seems to be oddly himself, at least, sniffy through his stuffy red nose and lifting his head to greet those who approach him. he’s a little . . . twitchy, pale and flaking, perhaps even slightly thinner, but he does seem happy for the visit. his purple tinted eyes (that’s wrong) say so— ]
Ah— Hello, [ sir or ma’am (or nothing, if you’re around his age). ].
[ a bow of his head, a soft, shying smile— he thinks you’re regarding his drawing, what he knows is a rendition of perle, but something isn’t right. starting with the fact that he didn’t draw perle at all. ]
✋ ✊ ✋ (grabby hands) cw for slime, child possession, eldritch horrors, our favorite
by the time luna finds him in one of the sleeping quarters, an entire row of furniture has fallen, thrown onto their side or with wooden legs in the air. decorations have scattered or even shattered if they were fragile enough, blown by the impact of a boy who had thrown himself back to the wall following it. it’d just happened, with a metal candle holder still clicking against the floor from being thrown off a stand. behind it all had been falco, his breathing erratic and his tears far more purple and viscous than clear beads of water that could simply be dried. he doesn’t hear luna coming, he only sees movement and reacts, recoils from her entry at the doorway and curls up right into himself with a greater sob, so strained that his voice waves; from too high, to cracked, to a choking bellow. ]
Go away!! [ a part of him is terrified, repulsed, feeling bile burn his throat and fill his mouth with slime; the other part is irresistibly allured to this presence to the point that the conflict terrifies him tenfold. ] I don’t want this!!
[ he’s desperate and by no means courageous, and what he feels is simply fuel for more. to luna’s luck, the room was empty (just messy), the wards were intact. the house was safe. the only insolent intruder was the one that was with falco, with a presence unseen but certainly palpable, stealing his hearing for its satiation.
and this was a very good meal. ]
HELLA \o/
No, what she's more worried about is the boy curled up tight against the wall, cowering, screaming at her. He's a frightful sight, the purple mucous about him has never seemed so prominent. She steps inside the room without much though, rolling up her sleeves; keeps her movements slow and easy. She can't just stand there and do nothing, she has to go to him. ]
Falco, it's alright. It's me— [ She's yet to realise the boy can't hear her. She bends low as she draws near, keeps her wand low. Not here to hurt him. Here to help. ]
It's just me. [ Her free hand reaches for him, fingers carefully brushing against the hair on the top of his head. A ghost of a touch; he's alright, she's here for him. ]
no subject
he didn’t know what it was that coaxed him to look. he was frightened of the prospect of it being another terrifying piece of bait to lure him to look at the thing he could never make out but at the same time, saw in complete detail. his eye cracked open, vision an uncomfortable blur once he felt warm breath puffing close to him. a mouth. words.
when it was clearly fingers grazing his hair, falco gained more courage to look, and lunge he did when he saw luna in front of him. he clings tight around her torso, hides his head to her shoulder and cries: his volume control is abandoned, his voice is cracked and all over the place— but he takes shelter in her. ]
I can’t hear anything! I can’t— [ and the most obvious of all, wet and muffled to her shirt in panic: ] I’m scared, Miss Luna!
no subject
And then he comes out with it, it fill her with a cold kind of horror: I can’t hear anything! Luna swallows; it took his hearing—? ]
It's alright, I'm here. You're alright, Falco. [ Even if he might not hear her, maybe he'll sense the vibrations of her words as he clings to her. Much like she can feel the terrified tremor of his heart against her. That she's talking to him, something calm and steady.
But he's breathing too hard, too fast; panicking. Luna lets the moment pass before she coaxes him to look at her, gently tries to pry him back a little. Her hands move from around him to reaching for his face to gently cup it. She leans back slightly so he doesn't have to pull away too far. Then with one hand, she gestures to her eyes. ]
Look at me, look at me. [ She speaks slowly, repeating the gesture. And then she breathes in deeply, a little exaggerated, holding the breath before exhaling slowly. She does it a second time, then a third, motioning for him to follow her. ]
Breathe, you can do it. Just breathe, alright?
no subject
with his hand on top of hers, the one that keeps to his face, falco tries it: he doesn’t succeed the first few times, it felt like his lungs needed too much to stop. halting all breathing made his shoulders and chest shudder, made him exhale harder and inhale just the same.
eventually, this process continues and gains strength; he’s only holding on because he’s holding on to her image, her presence, and her hope. falco nods, and keeps going, until his fingers keep tight around her hand, fall to her arms— then all that’s left is soft shivers of sniveling. ]
no subject
[ She keeps breathing like that herself, giving him a lead to follow. To keep him going until he calms himself down. Slowly, her other hand comes to join the one at his face, gently cradling it.
It's an action that comes without thinking; used against others, Peter had been the first. Or Paimon, rather. When she'd first met Peter in the midst of one of Paimon's restless rages. She's tamed the demon down then, not even realising who or what the demon was at the time. With the utmost care, her thumbs gently brush against his cheek: back in forth in a soft, fluid motion through the violet-coloured mucous. She repeats it, over and over. ]
You're safe. [ She whispers it softly to him, watching him carefully as his breaths finally begin to even out. ] You're alright, I've got you. You're safe.
no subject
his ears would begin to ring, not completely alien to the sensation of waking up from a blast right next to you, hearing nothing but dull thumps or muffling, like he would if he were under water. there’s something, something that’s becoming clear, though he can’t quite make it out.
falco’s eyes dart from eyes to mouth to eyes again, squinting his own as if it would have a greater effect on the sound that wanted to return. ]
S—Safe—? Is that what you said?
[ his own voice is loud and cracking, but only because he didn’t realize it. he clings to luna and won’t be letting go any time soon. ]
no subject
Her eyes widen at his questions, asking about what she'd said. Can he hear her? Is whatever part of this that's stolen his hearing away slowly letting it return to him now he's beginning to calm down again—? She's not quite sure, considering the volume of his own voice but maybe it's something gradual. ]
Yes, yes— [ She nods eagerly at his questions, continuing to speak. ] You're alright, Falco. I've got you, okay—? You're safe.
Can you hear me—?
cw parasites, slight body horror
falco shivers— he could feel it despite not actually seeing it, but just before he could consider running his own hands down the burn it left behind in its trail, the nauseating sensation has left. ]
Augh— [ gross, that says with a thick sniff through his running nose. the words sound like they’re behind a towel, pressed against her mouth— then halfway through, it’s clear. ] I— I can, now.
[ his expression goes tight, brows furrowing to hold back another wave of tears, but this time, for a different purpose. ]
Th-thank you, thank you—
[ and he holds her tight, by the shoulders, to her chest and the inside of her neck. ]
no subject
She's left stunned for a moment before her attention returns to Falco once more. He can hear her again, and she's relieved. Whatever's haunting him has ended, for now, even if returning from it is slow-going. ]
Don't cry, it's alright. [ Her hands move to pull him into a hug, holds onto him with a gentle tightness. He doesn't need to thank her. ] You're alright now. It's gone away, I won't let it get you.
[ This time, at least. ]
no subject
How does, [ i want an exorcism, ] how does Peter do it? How do you do it?
[ granted, paimon was a completely different entity. ]
no subject
But there's at least something she can answer with it all. Even with how difficult it is sometimes, it's always Peter and Luna in this together. Perhaps ever since they met, they've forged themselves into a little team. ]
We do it together. [ She strokes his hair gently. ] Whatever happens, we don't do it alone. We help one another through it.
no subject
I miss Gabi. [ he confesses with a squeeze of his fingers, and a relaxed rest against the older girl. ] But I'm not sure I'd want her around this.
no subject
[ There's been people from her world, yes. Even if they're all now gone. Like Dumbledore, Newt and Theseus. Even Tina. But they were all from decades before her. There's never been someone from her own point in the timeline. Never been Harry or Ginny or any of the others. ]
Sometimes I wish they would be here, other times it almost seems cruel to want them to be here and have to survive the things we do.
[ She feels lucky that she's found Peter. That in amongst all of the horror and suffering, of what exists inside Peter and within the very world around them — they have one another. ]
I know it isn't the same— [ And by no means any replacement. ] but you do have Peter and I. We'll be here to help you, whenever you need it. You don't have to be alone.
no subject
[ the thank you is said without ever being spoken. despite the very specific hole in his heart, he knows that the others— luna, peter, paul, luz, ange, everyone— he knows how genuine they are. he knows how important it was, despite knowing, to still hear it as a soft reminder.
after a moment of this contemplative silence, falco glances up, brings in a breath to sniff, then finds that it may be time for him to lift himself up. sit in front of her, to see her. he wasn’t alone, after all.
softly, he does ask something of her, something innocent but sweet when bothering to consider the intent of it. perhaps it would somehow soothe the ache in his heart and dry away the wetness staining his cheeks. ]
Can you tell me how you met Peter?
no subject
As he moves to sit up, her hands fall away. She doesn't quite let go of him, though. Instead, they move to hold onto his — keeping them gently in her own as they sit there. The question surprises her, her eyebrows raising slightly. Merlin, it feels like such a long time ago, meeting Peter. ]
Funnily enough, it was because of his demon. [ She shakes her head slightly, she technically met Paimon before she met Peter. Although at the time she'd thought Peter had been cursed by something. She'd seen something there in his eyes when she'd looked into them — but she'd had no clue it had actually been Paimon, lost and restless within the boy. ]
I'd only been in Deerington about a week or so, I'd started at school. He was in my class and he... threw himself into my desk. [ Oh, you know. Just very usual things that happen in school. ] He was very upset, he was always more distressed back then. I didn't know he was a demon, but I calmed him down and Peter came back again.
After that... I suppose the happenings of Deerington would just keep throwing us back together, and we started being friends.
we can start wrapping up here if that’s okay!
it sounded much like luna, what she did here, with him. falco decides to tighten his hold gently on her fingers with gratitude to say: ]
I’m glad you found each other. [ and now, with a calm that he couldn’t have asked for: ] And I’m glad I found you guys.
sure!
Luna looks about them for a moment, there's a little tidying up to do. Some globs of slime here and there, but she isn't too bothered by it. She'll be able to clean it up simply enough. For now, though: ]
Why don't we head downstairs and get some tea? I think that might be nice, and then we can see about tidying this up. [ But tea first, though. ]