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deercountry2022-03-12 08:04 pm
enblightened) wrote in deercountry2022-03-12 08:04 pm
Entry tags:
☣️ merely a trick of the light | OPEN
Who: Bigby, OPEN
What: Catacombs shenanigans, blood blisters, and resisting the moon.
When: Throughout March
Where: Catacombs, then the woods mostly.
Content Warnings: Trauma, blood, probable gore, body horror, blood blisters in prompt II
☣️ I. CATACOMBS
A. arrival
[Aw shit, here we go again.
The last thing Bigby had been doing was trying to keep himself calm and a clear mind, meditating for what felt like hours on end. If nothing else, his rage is quelled with the knowledge that Illarion is not dead or gone, merely displaced, yet he still knows nothing of how to reach him. Alternate dimensions are not impossible for him to fathom, though he has no knowledge on how to traverse with meaning in order to reach his dear friend.
So, suffice it to say, he's been in a mood that he's been trying to temper with his usual tactics. How unfortunate that it's been interrupted by the whim of an entity.
Bigby rises up from the dirt, grunting as he takes stock on his surroundings. He picks up the bag of supplies and briefly sorts through it.]
Supposed I ought to be grateful that I've been granted some means of rations before traversing the dark, as I once had.
B. untouchable treasures
[It's with a frustrated growl that Bigby shoves the rusted doors open, only to be faced with innumerable treasures, enough that would make his old companion the Antiquarian salivate at the sight. Trinkets, bobbles, so many a thing glittering. The smell of a hot, fine meal, exquisite clothing that reminds him of days in a noble's court.
None of that matters much in the face of a well loved work bench, an alchemist's tools left in immaculate condition. That is too familiar.
But he is beyond those days -- and thus, those kinds of temptations.]
Best we move on. Pay none of it any heed, tis nothing more than bait.
[Even if he does feel the tingling urge to reach out and touch, he does not, and instead scoffs at the sight of it as if it were an insult.]
C. til death do we part
[There are some companions that, of course, he does think to miss in some ways, even if he certainly doubts the sentiment is much returned for what he is. Still, it does make him hesitate when he sees familiar figures in the darkness, ones that truly mean much to his heart. Yet, there is one that stands before the others curtained away by the lack of light.
There is a woman, golden hair in curls, her head bowed as if in regret. Her clothing easily marks her as a noble, despite its tattered state, caked with filth and dirt of the catacombs.]
What use are my words? You are not her. She has long since passed from any plane of living! What mockery I am given.
[She does not react, and Bigby grits his teeth for a moment, his hands clenched.]
...Your fears, your choice, your betrayal -- all that I could forgive... if you had kept your promise. Too long I spent hoping, and that it was a lesson to let it rot in the dark just as I had. Did you ever regret it?
[And still, to his growing frustration, she says nothing.]
D. as above, so below
[THE KINDNESS OF THE WORLD IS BEHIND YOU: HELL IS AHEAD. AS ABOVE, SO IS BELOW. THAT WHICH HAS BEEN, WILL RETURN AGAIN.
Before the pitch black hole waiting for them, Bigby gazes down, finding even his eyes cannot make out what is waiting within. He hesitates, an unusual thing during this entire trek for once; everything else he'd just about faced with determination and vigor.
Here, he pauses, torch in hand.]
Something stirs within. Ah, I wonder... what is expected of us now?
[And so it is: he is here, to perhaps listen to your sudden confessions should you have any. Whatever urge is there for him, he seems less disturbed by.]
☣️ II. INTO THE WOODS
[In the forest, it is where the red mounds filled with blood are, pulsing and ready to pop. Whether they're growing out of trees or unearthed, they are terribly delicate sacs, pungent and corrupted.
It is, at worst, irritating for Bigby; he has been reluctant to move into the city truly, and here the foliage bears a sickening fruit. The beasts this blood summons are things he does not particularly fear, and the hounds that feast on them are fine enough company for the moment.
Besides, he has his own pressing matters as he sighs and walks on. That's about when he notices you, and he scowls.]
Hail and be wary; best you keep your distance from these accursed things, lest you wish to be a meal for beasts yourself.
What: Catacombs shenanigans, blood blisters, and resisting the moon.
When: Throughout March
Where: Catacombs, then the woods mostly.
Content Warnings: Trauma, blood, probable gore, body horror, blood blisters in prompt II
☣️ I. CATACOMBS
A. arrival
[Aw shit, here we go again.
The last thing Bigby had been doing was trying to keep himself calm and a clear mind, meditating for what felt like hours on end. If nothing else, his rage is quelled with the knowledge that Illarion is not dead or gone, merely displaced, yet he still knows nothing of how to reach him. Alternate dimensions are not impossible for him to fathom, though he has no knowledge on how to traverse with meaning in order to reach his dear friend.
So, suffice it to say, he's been in a mood that he's been trying to temper with his usual tactics. How unfortunate that it's been interrupted by the whim of an entity.
Bigby rises up from the dirt, grunting as he takes stock on his surroundings. He picks up the bag of supplies and briefly sorts through it.]
Supposed I ought to be grateful that I've been granted some means of rations before traversing the dark, as I once had.
B. untouchable treasures
[It's with a frustrated growl that Bigby shoves the rusted doors open, only to be faced with innumerable treasures, enough that would make his old companion the Antiquarian salivate at the sight. Trinkets, bobbles, so many a thing glittering. The smell of a hot, fine meal, exquisite clothing that reminds him of days in a noble's court.
None of that matters much in the face of a well loved work bench, an alchemist's tools left in immaculate condition. That is too familiar.
But he is beyond those days -- and thus, those kinds of temptations.]
Best we move on. Pay none of it any heed, tis nothing more than bait.
[Even if he does feel the tingling urge to reach out and touch, he does not, and instead scoffs at the sight of it as if it were an insult.]
C. til death do we part
[There are some companions that, of course, he does think to miss in some ways, even if he certainly doubts the sentiment is much returned for what he is. Still, it does make him hesitate when he sees familiar figures in the darkness, ones that truly mean much to his heart. Yet, there is one that stands before the others curtained away by the lack of light.
There is a woman, golden hair in curls, her head bowed as if in regret. Her clothing easily marks her as a noble, despite its tattered state, caked with filth and dirt of the catacombs.]
What use are my words? You are not her. She has long since passed from any plane of living! What mockery I am given.
[She does not react, and Bigby grits his teeth for a moment, his hands clenched.]
...Your fears, your choice, your betrayal -- all that I could forgive... if you had kept your promise. Too long I spent hoping, and that it was a lesson to let it rot in the dark just as I had. Did you ever regret it?
[And still, to his growing frustration, she says nothing.]
D. as above, so below
[THE KINDNESS OF THE WORLD IS BEHIND YOU: HELL IS AHEAD. AS ABOVE, SO IS BELOW. THAT WHICH HAS BEEN, WILL RETURN AGAIN.
Before the pitch black hole waiting for them, Bigby gazes down, finding even his eyes cannot make out what is waiting within. He hesitates, an unusual thing during this entire trek for once; everything else he'd just about faced with determination and vigor.
Here, he pauses, torch in hand.]
Something stirs within. Ah, I wonder... what is expected of us now?
[And so it is: he is here, to perhaps listen to your sudden confessions should you have any. Whatever urge is there for him, he seems less disturbed by.]
☣️ II. INTO THE WOODS
[In the forest, it is where the red mounds filled with blood are, pulsing and ready to pop. Whether they're growing out of trees or unearthed, they are terribly delicate sacs, pungent and corrupted.
It is, at worst, irritating for Bigby; he has been reluctant to move into the city truly, and here the foliage bears a sickening fruit. The beasts this blood summons are things he does not particularly fear, and the hounds that feast on them are fine enough company for the moment.
Besides, he has his own pressing matters as he sighs and walks on. That's about when he notices you, and he scowls.]
Hail and be wary; best you keep your distance from these accursed things, lest you wish to be a meal for beasts yourself.
no subject
You know Big Bird?
[ The name is a joke, which he emphasizes by holding up a hand in illustration: about yea high, he could say, which is several inches shorter than him. ]
Dead man, feathers for hair, lives in the spooky woods?
no subject
I know him well indeed.
Last I had known, he was not in this plane. Lost for now, save for his omen. Has this changed?
no subject
Not so far as I've heard. Not yet. [ But there's a building plan underway, he's aware; the concept of a heist; there are clues to be found, and he has come to find them. ] But things seem to change quick around here, don't they? I'm keeping my fingers crossed for him. If anyone could walk back out of another reality and into this one, it'd be that guy.
[ Maybe that's uncommon knowledge; maybe no one else can see what John sees, when he looks at that roiling shape of the greater monster beyond the elf. This is as good a way as any to ask. ]
no subject
...Still, I am remarkably ill educated in this matter. Alchemy and engineering are mine strengths, less so in the field of magic or exploring other dimensions.
[It's hard to be patient. Oh, it has been extremely difficult, and it takes much of his strength to be a better man for it.]
no subject
I think we're in luck, there. We have no lack of talented mages here in town... I'm lucky to work with most of them.
Still, good to meet an engineer. We might have need for the more practical side of things, at some point between all the spells and dimension-shifting monsters.
no subject
Still, if I am somehow needed, I will put forth all my effort to aid without hesitation. He... is indeed missed.
no subject
Personal question, but— is it local corruption causing trouble? I've a bit of experience lending a hand with that. Not much, mind; I'm more on the arcane side of things than divine, here.
[ This statement is hilarious understatement only to him. ]
If you're a friend of Big Bird's, I'd love to lend a hand.
[ The thing-that-isn't-an-elf would flare his feathers in horror, hearing that. ]