like, zoinks

[grice]

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:

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. ]

Comments

[imaglyphwitch]

[Luz groaned, still not moving or rotating her shoulder too much, because her whole body felt kind of heavy right now. She could understand what he was saying, but it still felt like she was missing something, and she was still halfway between pain and recovery].

I know you didn't mean to do it. But did something happen recently, that you had to actually carry it around?

[grice]

I don’t, [ he shakes his head, his brows crease further, and once doused fully with his own blood, falco removes his hold on luz, bringing the vial and his working hand back to his lap. ] no . . .

[ no, or know? his pale little fingers were beginning to fidget with the cork of the vial. the more he tunneled for an answer that she was seeking, the more things were getting hazy, the more— he saw purple. ]

I just shot you. That doesn’t make you angry?

[imaglyphwitch]

Oh. Really?

[She was about to ask him what the first thing was that he remembered when he gave her a question of his own].

If you'd done it on purpose, probably. But you were scared, so you were trying to protect yourself. I can't blame you for that. I just wish I knew what spooked you so bad that you shot like that.

[grice]

[ this flipping, like a switch— when would things feel natural and when would they not? why was there a blurring line between the obvious? something in him entices him to say what would bring anger, surely: maybe it was on purpose. but how could he want to hurt anyone on purpose—?

falco keeps his hands on his lap, and overlooks her wound closing up. at most, he has fabric to soak and dry the blood that had been spilled to the best of his ability. ]

It was a feeling. [ that danger was near, that he should act, that he should attack before being attacked— but luz's demeanor is what keeps the conflict more at bay than upfront. ] I'm not . . . Alright.

[imaglyphwitch]

[That was pretty troubling. Luz may have been shot at, but she was being attended to, and she understood, even if it did hurt a lot, that Falco hadn't meant it. That begged the question: if he was spooked and on edge like this, what happened recently that made him so jumpy]?

Say. You weren't one of those people involved in that Leviathan thing, were you?

[grice]

[ falco allows only a small stretch of silence to fill between them, his brows worrying and his expression becoming worn. ]

I was . . . Helping the Medical Tents. [ he could guess where she's going with this. even he knew, now that she mentioned it. ] I've been having episodes, ever since.

[ he doesn't want to say possession, outright. it's too close to corruption for him to really distinguish the two. as dipper once said: that thing is corruption in physical form. ]

[imaglyphwitch]

[Luz listened quietly, and her body tensed. She still didn't know a lot about the Leviathan, but she had heard snatches of what it had done, how there had been deaths and in that case...Falco must have been in the thick of trying to help.

Episodes? EPISODES. She could guess what that might mean].

And they're nothing you can help, are they?

[grice]

Sometimes . . .

[ he can distract himself, bring himself to better moods if he has the strength and mental fortitude for it at the time. weakened as it was right now, it all drops down to one looping thought. friends died even if they were to return, if they were. he misses paul. ]

But when it gets bad, ever since South Sister, [ he shakes his head. ] it’s harder. I’ve been trying for days.

[imaglyphwitch]

Sometimes?

[That was something, but also alarming that he could only seem to do it at certain times. She hoped she could find out why it had happened at all, and what these episodes were about.

If the Leviathan monster was that serious a threat, Luz regretted not aiding in the fray].

South Sister? Is that a place, or a person?

[grice]

It's one of the places I've been to, [ he confirms that, reminded of the time he only mentioned it— but it was more santa rosita that had been the topic of that conversation, so he comments, to jog the memory: ] other than California.

[ luz seems to be healed by now; falco checks her, both at the front and back of her shoulder, before he brings himself to a sit over his knees and holds his cut hand over his thigh, palm up. in a matter of seconds, the cut begins to sizzle and sets off a ribbon of steam. he's healing too, but not because of his blood.

(although it's very easy to confuse for that) ]

I got sick, there.

[imaglyphwitch]

[Luz WAS thinking of Santa Rosita, so the mention of this other place made her wonder if there were other dimensions that were as bad as these, just different in how they dueled out their punishment.

Scary thought.]

How come you can do that? Healing with your blood?

[Luz would get to him being "sick" in just a moment. She was curious, even as she winced from the soreness in her shoulder].

[grice]

[ falco raises his shoulders with uncertainty— he understands the question in two ways. ]

My blood’s been healing wounds instead of working as poison. I know someone mentioned noticing some changes every month. [ but as for the actual steam that’s closing his own cut shut, he flexed his fingers in gesture. ] Healing myself is just— part of how my body works, though.

[ it felt a little too off topic to just slip out “I’m a giant bird” tidbit. just a bit. ]

It’s alright.

[imaglyphwitch]

Oh. That's nifty. Seems like I chose a pretty good time to get shot.

[It was a joke, though Luz knew that she was admitting she'd gotten very, VERY lucky. She's not even sure what would have happened if she'd had to stay like that longer. Her shoulder was achy now, but it was nowhere near the intense pain she'd been in minutes ago].

You're able to heal your OWN body? You've been able to do that since before coming here too? That's pretty astonishing.

But moving from that...what's think about being sick?

[grice]

[ falco nods, or rather, ducks his head sheepishly. he couldn't say it was nothing, because it was something, but— well, he's easily flustered. especially when he doesn't feel like he deserves to hear it. ]

Not really sick, [ they'd use similar terms, though. ] but, um— Infected?

[imaglyphwitch]

[Luz is leaning in, because, yes, she wants to know more].

Infected? Is that something that can happen? I mean, is that a power the Leviathan has?

[Luz still knows little to nothing about the fight and is desperately trying to find out].

[grice]

I don’t . . . Think so. [ he was under the smallest impression that this was no longer about the leviathan. or, well, maybe it was.] This is something that happened before all this. The Leviathan— what happened just made it worse.

[imaglyphwitch]

You getting possessed? So it just...happens? And you have no idea why?

[She wanted to be sure about this so she could try and figure out what was going on].

What exactly DID happen?

[grice]

[ that was off handed but actually accurate, so— there’s no other way to keep waiting. ]

I am possessed. [ he just. allows that to make sense. ] That’s the “infection” I got in South Sister. Dipper tried to exorcise it months ago and— [ he pauses sharply, and sucks a breath in. ] It didn’t work.

[imaglyphwitch]

Oh.

[She had definitely heard about that and the disastrous results than ensued. This poor kid! Didn't he have enough to deal with]?

And you're just...living with it?

[grice]

[ was there anything else to do? a second exorcism? he’s practically two in one, now. the mark from it is uglier. quietly: ]

I don’t know if I have another choice.

[imaglyphwitch]

[Luz sighed].

I wish I had a head for that kind of stuff. There are people so much better suited for this.

Have you asked any of the witches about an exorcism?

[grice]

Ever since Dipper tried . . . [ falco shakes his head, low at bordering at ashamed, ] I’ve been afraid to ask, again.

[imaglyphwitch]

Right, of course.

[That had ended in disaster, and she hadn't needed to be told that. Dipper had been brave enough to try and tackle this himself, and he was something of an expert].

I know it's not good to bring up, but- what exactly happened the last time, with Dipper getting involved?

[grice]

I don’t mind bringing up.

[ he and dipper had set things straight already, even if it was a bad memory. it wasn’t as if he’d die remembering it— if it were that way, he wouldn’t be able to talk about any of his memories.

the hardest part was probably talking about it. ]

I had, um . . . “An episode”, and I panicked to get him to do something. He did, but it was rushed. The Thing got out and hurt a bunch of people in Gaze.

[imaglyphwitch]

[Luz listened quietly and wished she had a cup of tea: it tended to calm her down when hearing about things like this. Granted, it was already hard to concentrate when she was still recovering from the pain of being shot, but at least the worst part of that pain was subsiding].

What is "the thing?"