bigby | The Abomination (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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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
[Because clearly, the whole BITE OFF SOME ARM thing was justa fluke right!!]
I - I could. Um. If it... won't trip. You.
[Yeah no he's going to hold on. Regardless.]
no subject
...Something like it, I suppose.
[Does. Does Melius not know?! After all this time. After what happened. What the hell.]
If I need release from my cloak, then I shall free myself. Hold on as you wish.
no subject
Can - can you - cast light? O-or... maybe. A torch? I can um. Try to light... one.
[But if Bigby has magic, surely he can make a light spell right?]
Okay. I - I'm sorry. [That he isn't more use. That he has to hold on.]