⛧ Aʟʟᴇɴ "ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴘʀɪᴇsᴛ" Wᴀʟᴋᴇʀ ★ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likethelight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2022-04-08 08:41 pm
likethelight) wrote in deercountry2022-04-08 08:41 pm
[semi-open] If you're trying hard to breathe in the dark
Who: Allen & others, possibly Argonaut appearances
What: Event-log and other April-related prompts. Plotting prompt stuff!
When: Throughout April
Where: Various
Content Warnings: SAD THINGS, harm and death to NPC children, mutilation, nightmare fuel mindfuckery, high corruption and beasthood.
⛧ 1. if your screams don't make a sound (wonderkind/AKUMA) ★
[ You were probably just minded your own business doing something totally normal — and then you got caught in up in Allen Walker's vortex of bad luck. Sorry. It's just a thing that happens. He doesn't even have his unlucky rabbit's foot on him! He learned better really quickly...!!
Regardless of whether you might have been haggling with a bakery over the price of day-olds, sipping tea in some little shop, or maybe this is your house that he's... about to put a hole through. So sorry — but all of a sudden part of the nearby brickwork explodes as a slender figure is bodily slammed entirely through it.
Yeah. It's that kind of day.
It does not look comfortable. And it does not look like something anyone could have gotten away with without some broken ribs, but as the dust settles the boy that was indeed used as a wrecking ball of sorts starts coughing and trying to sit up. This is just -- ugghhh...
Coming to his senses quickly though, dressed in a black and red jacket underneath what seems to be a impossibly volumous feathered white cloak that seems to be made of moonlight itself he -- blinks. And then whirls around, realizing you're there.
His left eye has bled black throughout the sclera, and the iris has shifted to glowing red rings that shift in and out like a camera lens focusing. There's a dark, corrupted sort of smoke that seems to be pooling around it as well. His expression is wide with alarm, actual fear for a moment at seeing you there, before he stumbles back up to his feet. To square his shoulders, face the hole he just was thrown through—
And rip back, shouting at you over his shoulder as he spreads a single arm out in warning. ]
RUN!
[ Because, over the edge of the rubble... there's a faint sort of here-but-not dark glow. And the world seems to desaturate, fading from color into the black and white. It doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like you're even looking through your own eyes.
And then you hear a faint sobbing. Distant, but far too close as well. Like it's there in your own skull. Faintly.
And a figure floats into view, cresting the stone. At first, it looks like... an extremely mummified corpse. Bone dry, curled up in a fetal position. It isn't even the thing crawling up and through the hole, but that seems deem and distant right now. It's attached to it.
Because the sobbing stops as soon as you look at it, and the specter stiffens suddenly. Socketless pits for eyes turning right towards you as it realizes you see it —
—and its jaw falls open as it screams. ]
⛧ 2. if your heart just cries too loud all the time (butterflies/beasthood) ★
[ He knew this worked like a game of Russian roulette, he really did. And he doesn't even want to have to destroy any of the butterflies that have flocked to the Trench. It's fine when they stay up and away from people, but when they choose to land near populated areas...
It's not even for misjudging his own ability to purge corruption from his own body! It has limits, he knows that... too much can still be too much if it's all at once. But he has to keep trying. Better him than someone else. Or at least, thinking about that...
...it's easy to forget the actual consequences.
Maybe you were there when he destroyed the butterfly, a boy who suddenly transformed into into a white harbinger wreathed in what looks like condensed moonlight taking the shape of a huge feathered cloak and wielding a great broadsword as long and broad as he is. Maybe you just see the consequences of that — or hear the sudden howling gale.
What: Event-log and other April-related prompts. Plotting prompt stuff!
When: Throughout April
Where: Various
Content Warnings: SAD THINGS, harm and death to NPC children, mutilation, nightmare fuel mindfuckery, high corruption and beasthood.
⛧ 1. if your screams don't make a sound (wonderkind/AKUMA) ★
[ You were probably just minded your own business doing something totally normal — and then you got caught in up in Allen Walker's vortex of bad luck. Sorry. It's just a thing that happens. He doesn't even have his unlucky rabbit's foot on him! He learned better really quickly...!!
Regardless of whether you might have been haggling with a bakery over the price of day-olds, sipping tea in some little shop, or maybe this is your house that he's... about to put a hole through. So sorry — but all of a sudden part of the nearby brickwork explodes as a slender figure is bodily slammed entirely through it.
Yeah. It's that kind of day.
It does not look comfortable. And it does not look like something anyone could have gotten away with without some broken ribs, but as the dust settles the boy that was indeed used as a wrecking ball of sorts starts coughing and trying to sit up. This is just -- ugghhh...
Coming to his senses quickly though, dressed in a black and red jacket underneath what seems to be a impossibly volumous feathered white cloak that seems to be made of moonlight itself he -- blinks. And then whirls around, realizing you're there.
His left eye has bled black throughout the sclera, and the iris has shifted to glowing red rings that shift in and out like a camera lens focusing. There's a dark, corrupted sort of smoke that seems to be pooling around it as well. His expression is wide with alarm, actual fear for a moment at seeing you there, before he stumbles back up to his feet. To square his shoulders, face the hole he just was thrown through—
And rip back, shouting at you over his shoulder as he spreads a single arm out in warning. ]
RUN!
[ Because, over the edge of the rubble... there's a faint sort of here-but-not dark glow. And the world seems to desaturate, fading from color into the black and white. It doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like you're even looking through your own eyes.
And then you hear a faint sobbing. Distant, but far too close as well. Like it's there in your own skull. Faintly.
And a figure floats into view, cresting the stone. At first, it looks like... an extremely mummified corpse. Bone dry, curled up in a fetal position. It isn't even the thing crawling up and through the hole, but that seems deem and distant right now. It's attached to it.
Because the sobbing stops as soon as you look at it, and the specter stiffens suddenly. Socketless pits for eyes turning right towards you as it realizes you see it —
—and its jaw falls open as it screams. ]
⛧ 2. if your heart just cries too loud all the time (butterflies/beasthood) ★
[ He knew this worked like a game of Russian roulette, he really did. And he doesn't even want to have to destroy any of the butterflies that have flocked to the Trench. It's fine when they stay up and away from people, but when they choose to land near populated areas...
It's not even for misjudging his own ability to purge corruption from his own body! It has limits, he knows that... too much can still be too much if it's all at once. But he has to keep trying. Better him than someone else. Or at least, thinking about that...
...it's easy to forget the actual consequences.
Maybe you were there when he destroyed the butterfly, a boy who suddenly transformed into into a white harbinger wreathed in what looks like condensed moonlight taking the shape of a huge feathered cloak and wielding a great broadsword as long and broad as he is. Maybe you just see the consequences of that — or hear the sudden howling gale.
A whirling gale of feathers, light, and tattered wings made from moonlight themselves that rips upwards from a doubled over figure. A white and gold gigantic masquerade mask floats above as well, twisting to and fro from the feathered cloak like it's unsure how to hold its shape, like it's too angry to remember its shape and cares not for what it was, but is trying to contort itself into something new. But the winged sort of cloak looks almost angelic, glowing white-gold and ethereal. It's beautiful, and somewhat terrible as well. Especially as the figure, with his hands clutching his head like it wants to split in two, would not seem to have a normal left hand but a great white and gold monstrous sort of claw instead. But it too can't seem to hold its form, splitting into glowing feathers along his arm that twist in the air.
It's like a howling monster clinging to the figure even as it also tries to rip away.
And if you're caught staring, an edge of that tattered, feathery wing-cloak rips out towards you and slashes into—and through the brickwork by your head. And that's when you might realize that even though it looks like a cloak and feathers, it cuts as sharply as any sword. ]
Stay— [ It's a boy beneath all that. A teenager, pale and ethereal himself as the feathers around him, with a dark red scar cutting through the left side of his face. And he pants and rasps it out, gritting his teeth audibly and fixing a surprisingly sharp and hard dark eye on you. A window of raw clarity in a maelstrom.
Anguished clarity, his face twisted in tragedy.
But that eye is blood red and black, and the scar surrounding it twists itself restlessly across his face like an angry, living thing. Black smoke bleeds from that left side of his face, mixing in with the white. ]
—back...
More closed prompts below! I'm trying to do more closed/planned things since I have a lot going on this month and a bunch that are sequential, but please feel free to hit me up on my plotting prompt and I'm happy to plan something and do a private prompt for us! He will be generally collecting the hope orbs, mostly for Viktor, getting fucked up with his restored memories/tether and hiding from people later in the month, and trying to purify and reverse the corruption/beasthood of any turned, especially as a result of the butterflies. So, especially if you want to get your character in on realizing even full beasthood can be reversed by exorcists and other sorts of purification abilities and you want them to be able to see the human souls still in them... 👉👈 hit me up.
It's like a howling monster clinging to the figure even as it also tries to rip away.
And if you're caught staring, an edge of that tattered, feathery wing-cloak rips out towards you and slashes into—and through the brickwork by your head. And that's when you might realize that even though it looks like a cloak and feathers, it cuts as sharply as any sword. ]
Stay— [ It's a boy beneath all that. A teenager, pale and ethereal himself as the feathers around him, with a dark red scar cutting through the left side of his face. And he pants and rasps it out, gritting his teeth audibly and fixing a surprisingly sharp and hard dark eye on you. A window of raw clarity in a maelstrom.
Anguished clarity, his face twisted in tragedy.
But that eye is blood red and black, and the scar surrounding it twists itself restlessly across his face like an angry, living thing. Black smoke bleeds from that left side of his face, mixing in with the white. ]
—back...
More closed prompts below! I'm trying to do more closed/planned things since I have a lot going on this month and a bunch that are sequential, but please feel free to hit me up on my plotting prompt and I'm happy to plan something and do a private prompt for us! He will be generally collecting the hope orbs, mostly for Viktor, getting fucked up with his restored memories/tether and hiding from people later in the month, and trying to purify and reverse the corruption/beasthood of any turned, especially as a result of the butterflies. So, especially if you want to get your character in on realizing even full beasthood can be reversed by exorcists and other sorts of purification abilities and you want them to be able to see the human souls still in them... 👉👈 hit me up.
no subject
It seems to feed the chaos pouring off of him, the feather-like shards peeling off those monstrous wings nicking his own cheek and drawing a small amount of blood that glows a pale white under the April moon. ]
Klee... [ She's impossible to forget, even if it's been months. Even if he probably looks so strange now, the competing dualities of white and black energy clinging to and threatening to consume his body. Black from his left seeping into white like a spreading poison; white pushing back in a wild sort of rage.
But he's rooted. He's rooted to the spot and can't even take the time to flee from her from how hard he has to concentrate and fight against the corruption threatening to take over him. If he tried, he'd be consumed in an instant. Flinching and having to double over again as if in pain, he presses his palms tight against his skull as if pleading with something to stop. ]
It isn't safe-- [ it's a raspy breath, tight in his throat ] please...
no subject
Gripping the bottle in her pocket, she shakes her head. Underneath her, she can feel Dodoco's agitation and holding back a growl before it goes away. Klee can feel the shock from her Omen as the boy turned monster writhe in pain. His pain and holding back only strength her resolve. She feels Dodoco's previous reluctance disappear and resolve to hell.
Klee may be scared, but she's taken down hordes of monsters all by herself. Even of those wings are scarier than a whole bunch of Ruin Hunters or Rift Wolves. She can and will help him because otherwise someone might do worse. As a Knight, she can't walk away from someone in need. ]
No, Klee is going to help you. You're hurting!
[She'd do the same for her friends from back home and the new ones she made here. Klee can almost feel the bottle approve of her actions. ]
CW: suicidal... implications?
If he could turn his claws on himself he would in a heartbeat. But he barely has enough presence of mind to stay his rampant, wildly amuck Innocence.Pitching forward onto his knees, he lets out an anguished, furious scream and clutches his head. Wings and feathers whip about in a growing rage as he pleads with the maddened, corrupted voices in his head. Shut up shut up shut up shut up!! ]
no subject
No, Dodoco. He's hurt we have to help him. K-Klee's not scared. He saved Klee. I can help him.
[For moment, Dodoco it looks might run but sighd. She takes on smaller form to move closer towards Allen and taking pains to avoid the wings. The vial glowing brightly as they inch forward. Klee remembers the older Knights comforting people after a big disaster. She repeats the words they told others.]
It's okay, Mister! You can get through this. It's going to be okay.
no subject
He grits his teeth harder, an audible grind. ]
Klee... [ It sounds like she's closer, even over the cacophony in his head. Ever-plagued by the screams and pleas of first the souls of akuma, now the souls of beasts -- it spirals out of control when his corruption rises. Makes the corruption worse since that would be enough to start to drive anyone mad, and this...
When she gets close, almost close enough to touch him, he lifts his head again. Slowly, this time... and his head is almost fully wrapped in first those feathers covering his right half, blending down into a beaklike mask that's half covering his face, and the dark swirling smoke-like void covering his left. And he fixes an unwavering eye on her.
It's almost a void, that left eye of his. Black and expressionless, with a glowing red pit for an iris. And entirely unlike his normal disposition. ]