⛧ 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.
Really?! It was already a lot calling him a friend for the first time, so had to pull it back!
He nods. A quiet simple gesture, never taking his eyes off the point of contact. ]
Can I finish dressing your wounds?
I figured haha, it still made me crack up
Yeah. [ A little sheepish, he lets go and sits more upright as he rubs for a moment at the back of his neck. His wounds; right, he kind of forgot. Sure, the aches never left, but... he's also just used to being wounded a lot, okay. It becomes a state of being, that's how you cope.
Timcanpy snuck to the nightstand sometime during this time, watching, but now starts to lean in and peer at the supplies Todoroki had laid out. He bumps a roll of gauze lightly with what would probably be his nose... if he had one. Is he being helpful yet? ]
no subject
Mainly, dressing his wounds.
He nods at the omen in silent acknowledgment of his efforts, understanding his sentiment. Bullet wounds are not something he's ever treated, never even heard a gun go off live until today. It's a sound he never wants to hear again.
Picking up the gauze pushed in his direction, Shouto continues with his work until every injury is treated and dressed. Once he tapes down the last of the gauze to keep it in place, he moves on to the pile of bloody cotton he used to disinfect the wound. The pile is in a glass jar that he empties into his left hand, crumpling the lot. Skin stained with blood, he immediately activates his left side and incinerates the cotton, blood, and germs in a concentrated burst of power that leaves nothing but carbon behind.
When he's done he walks over to the trash and empties the black soot into a trashcan before returning to the glass container. Letting it rest in his hand, he gradually warms it up until the blood staining its walls turns to ash before stepping back the heat, slow and steady so as not to cause an explosion. When he's down, he sets the glass back down and starts repacking Viktor's first aid kit; cleaning up after himself. ]
no subject
Happy that he did good and Shouto understood, Timcanpy wags his wings lightly and watches him work intently. Allen does too, if more quietly and in a contemplative sort of silence this time. Grateful and honestly just content like this, injuries or not.
It's weird, how peaceable it is.
As Todoroki moves to clean up and Allen's freed, he reaches over for his clothes again and shakes them out. Too bad he doesn't have a change here, but oh well. Watching for a moment how he incinerates the contaminated materials, he marvels slightly at how it really is so useful for that, both of his abilities. He moves on to button up his shirt and reaches for his tie.
His gaze snags again on the ointment jar as he does so though, hesitating for a moment before continuing to knot his tie with practiced precision. He should probably use that now, but he's hesitant to draw any sort of attention back to that either. Also, another thing-- ]
Were you injured at all either? [ His eyes skim up and down Shouto, seeing if there's anything of note. He'd checked earlier when he was unconscious but his only concern at the time had really been for anything urgent. ]
When it threw you. [ That energy orb. He's been hit by it himself before; the concussive force is incredible. ]
no subject
I used my ice for protection.
[ Offensive and defensive. Intangible, his fire is almost impossible to contain with nothing to hold onto, but there's also no physical force behind it. In contrast, his ice is a tangible mass that can be shattered or do the shattering. The physical force behind it isn't trivial when he goes all out. Two opposing elements, synchronized within him. Genetics in perfect balance so he too, like the glass he heated, doesn't simply explode into a mess. ]
It absorbed the shockwave.
[ Shattered the ice but absorbed the energy of rapidly generating ice leaving him whole. There's a reason why he's not the best at hand-to-hand combat. Few ever get past his defenses to make him bleed. In the case of the Akuma. It wasn't interested in him. He was a distraction, Allen was the real target. ]
no subject
You can use it for that? [ More to the point, he can use it for so many different things. But that makes sense actually, if he thinks on it. Something as simple as his being able to control the physical manifestation of his cloak is what lets him do actually the vast majority of what he can on the battlefield. Defense, offense, crowd control, and mobility. It's a small part of the things his Innocence can do and arguably the simplest, and yet it's the most useful.
He shrugs his coat on, straightening out the lapels and smoothing it as he does so. Timcanpy looks intent, just staring at him for a moment without moving from where he is yet. ]
That's really useful.
no subject
I have some glass vials if you want to keep this or I can burn it.
[ He makes the same offer he did down in the catacombs. It's his blood, his choice what happens to it. ]
no subject
Six months and this is still a strange concept. ]
I'll keep it. [ He still has the last vial too. He has zero qualms about using his blood for payment, but... it's not for that. Sure it's gross, but he's far too practical about money to let that get in the way. Going even so far as to stockpile it and what he can gain through gambling with it, but... This is different. He'll probably actually keep this one too.
He moves to slip it into welcome bag; his is a small one, barely larger than a coin purse, and kept attached to his belt. Exactly the sort of thing it's useful for. After he does, he meets Shouto's eyes more directly and smiles lightly. Tired, but grateful. ]
Thank you.
no subject
He watches him put away the jar into his coin purse before he turns back to him, greeting him with an open smile without any pretense.
Thank you.
It's not the words that leave a mark, but the sentiment behind them. Smiling faintly, he nods in acknowledgment.
You're welcome.]
I left four pills on the nightstand for your fever. You should take one every 12 hours.
no subject
Allen's smile broadens at that, both of those responses. The obvious one, and the less obvious and fainter one. Warmer, but also softer, and his head tips to the side in a fond sort of manner. Timcanpy's dislodged himself from where he had stayed for the duration, hovering lightly just to the side of his shoulder. ]
Mn. I will. [ I'll be okay. ]
Take care of yourself, alright?
no subject
[ He always does, one way or another, he'll always find a way forward. ]
Take care of yourself, Allen.
[ Taking a page out of Allen's book, his eyes shift to his omen, addressing them directly. ]
Take care of yourself, Tim.
[ Timcanpy. Kizu corrects. A small nod to the little omen before he heads out of the lab and back to Prufrock, very much in need of a soak. ]