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. ]
no subject
[ It's a small noise of consideration. It's Ange thinking. After all, the more she talks about demons in this place, the more she feels like her own experience with them is fairly different from most people's experiences with them - or the way people think of them, anyway.
After all, Ange has never met a single demon who possessed someone back in her own world. She isn't used to it. And yet, between Peter and Falco here.. it seems so much more common. ]
I'm more used to dealing with them while they're outside people. [ Sorry, Falco. But Ange isn't about to let that stop her. ] But I still believe that there's got to be a way to get it to leave you. It seems.. interested in you, for some reason.
[ A reason that had been too incoherent in the moment for Ange to fully grasp, even now she's thinking back on it. ]
We just have to find a way to stop its interest in you in particular.
no subject
but falco has a worry beyond "getting it out", now. ]
That'd mean . . . It'd have nowhere else to go, except— someone else.
[ and that terrifies him, all the more. ]
no subject
Are you sure that it can't exist by itself? Without a human body to inhabit?
[ It seems like Falco does know more about the entity that she does. Unless it lied to him by saying that.
.. on the other hand, Ange isn't sure if she could get honest answers out of it either, judging by how erratic its behaviour was a moment ago. ]
no subject
[ he seems to have wilted, regardless. if only the silence could just walk off, become independent. a scary thought, but one hosts wouldn't have to internally deal with. it was like telling tapeworms to just leave thy intestine and go find their own food. ]
—I let it in and I brought it here. If there's no other way to kill it . . . I can't just let someone else have it.
cw: reference to self harm
Which means she doesn't protest what he's saying, instead just taking it as fact for now. Falco would know this better than her, considering he's the one living with that being inside of him. ]
But.. we can't just leave things like this either, right? It doesn't exactly seem like you guys get along.
[ To.. put it mildly...
Or at least, she's pretty sure he would rather not have the other entity inside of him randomly attempt to stab himself mid-conversation. ]
no subject
[ it might just be him wondering, and wondering for the best. things would be devastatingly different if their relationship was symbiotic and not completely parasitic.
but how to change the nature of na eldritch parasite? show it friendship? ]
no subject
[ On a lot of things, in fact. It doesn't help that Ange thinks she doesn't have a very good idea about the entity within Falco yet, just from that short exchange. It seemed very volatile, and not too friendly, but then again.. that's also what Paimon seems like at his worst, and Ange has found that that demon is actually pretty pleasant at his best.
Does whatever is inside of Falco have the same potential? Who knows. ]
I actually was friends with a bunch of demons back home. But it might have been different since they lived off my magical energy, rather than actually sharing a body with me. [ Which makes things a lot less invasive.. but it's also exactly what has Ange convinced that demons can be befriended in the first place, rather than always being something bad. ]
Do you guys.. ever talk? Can you talk with each other?
[ Who knows how this stuff works when it comes to possession. Ange sure has no real hands on experience. She's just been trying to learn more about this stuff ever since coming into contact with people who are dealing with it in this place, just like she's trying to learn about Falco's situation here so she can help the poor boy. ]
no subject
I've— I've never tried to. [ any kind of communication was one-sided, bearing in mind that the only kind of "communication" has been it tormenting falco or falco screaming at it. ] Do you think . . . Can I? Have people done that before?
no subject
But on the other hand, she's never really heard anyone else in this place talk about demons with any more knowledge or experience than her, so she figures that Falco might not be able to get better help in the first place. And to Ange's credit, she seems to be putting some serious thought into this, frowning as she considers it. ]
It doesn't seem impossible.
[ To her, anyway. ]
Have you never heard it speak to you inside of your head, or anything like that? Do you just know it's there because of the times it takes you over?
no subject
no subject
[ Disregarding the fact that it's got to be awful to live with that. Ange knows. She can figure, despite not having been through that herself. But even though she frowns with concern for the other, she's mostly trying to stay on track here, before she gets too distracted by her own sympathy for him.
It's more important to get this sorted out as much as they can, especially if the entity inside of him is starting to do weird stuff like the writing in the sand here. ]
Even if it was just something like.. 'no'?
no subject
[ which feels painful, right there on his face. the rifle he had traded away was the reason for this; having the suggestion to shoot, shooting, and only then realizing that it was horrible and uncharacteristic of him. ]
But that's— It might be tied to corruption.
no subject
And yet she knows that the world is not kind enough to spare people, just because they're young or nice.
She reaches out, putting a hand on his shoulder, resting it there gently. ]
Yes. It.. sounds like a complicated matter. I might have to look into it. [ See what this world has to say about it, if it has said anything at all. ] But at least know that you're not alone in this. I'm right here willing to help you, alright? With whatever you might need.
no subject
[ he knows he's not; thank god he's not. there's peter, and luna, and so many others. ange now gives him another hand of support he could seek. falco bows his head respectfully to have been given it. ]
Can I keep in contact with you? In case it . . . Talks?
[ he wants to try it, at the very least. that and maybe ask peter for an opinion. ]
no subject
[ Sure, it might not be the most convenient thing in the world, since she could be busy with something else, but.. really, this feels too important for her to ignore. Especially as someone who has at least some experience in the demon department.
It's better if Falco has got some people on their case who at least somewhat know what they're doing. ]
Just look up my last name on the devices. Ushiromiya. [ Look, Ange is not.. very creative with usernames.. But it helps in a case like this. ] You'll find me. I'll answer right away if I see your name.
[ Since Ange knows that stuff involving demons can be very urgent at times. ]
no subject
[ his little pygmy falcon omen, that quickly begins to materialize on his fingers as he holds her up. she’s small, probably not larger than his entire hand— but she’s a cute little predator, with talons meant for tearing, all the same.
it felt better than having her responding to any little thing when it may not be urgent at all— it saves her the time. ]
You’re already doing a lot, for this. Thank you, Miss Ange.
no subject
So while she nods at that, she instead slowly exhales when he continues. ]
No need to thank me. I think that anyone who'd just leave you to deal with something this crappy by yourself is an-- [ UGH, WAIT, DON'T CURSE IN FRONT OF THE CHILD.. ] .. a jerk.
[ Nice save. ]
I'm just doing what any decent person would do.
think we can wrap up here! (and thank you so much for a great thread)
It still earns my thanks.