open | lights are on but nobody's home

[creidim]

Who: Luna Lovegood @creidim + you!
What: April catch-all + Luna falling into end-stage Corruption and eventually Beasthood.
When: The month of April.
Where: Gaze, The Farther Shores, Willful Machine + Trenchwood.

Content Warnings: Warnings in individual prompts; some threads will contain gore + character death.
Notes: Information on Luna's Corruption / Beasthood can be found here.
Beast!Luna art for reference. cw: animal skull

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☽ god stood me up and I don't know why | general catch-all — april 1st - april 15th
cw: corruption-related body horror; themes of loss/grief

[ The month of darkness is met with a tense kind of worry. It's much like the month of October in Deerington, and for someone like Luna who has a couple of them under her belt — she's wary of what the month might bring. More for her to worry about, heaped onto her plate that is already much too full. The last six weeks have been difficult, dealing with Maul and Willow's death; worrying over Falco, over Peter and Paimon, and the difficulties of Moss King's games.

She still remains under the effects of Corruption from last month. She looks pale and gaunt. Her eyes glow in the darkness of the endless night: two eerieely pearlescent orbs, without pupils. Her hair hangs limp and oddly, doesn't look much like hair. Sometimes a clump of it that looks more like some strange appendage than anything else might twitch or sway on its own accord. Two deer antlers sprout from her forehead — not growing much more than a very young buck, but quite prominent all the same.

She's... not really had much of a chance to try and get on top of things, and there's plenty more to keep her occupied. John's gone. Much like Diarmuid, he's another person she loves dearly who's returned to the waters. He's left her his shop Ritual Gig over in Willful Machine. And of course, the place is no stranger to her. She knows how to help around, she's done that plenty before here and there. But walking into the place with him gone, she looks like she's at a loss for what to do. There's other visits in the first half of the month, where she'll be minding the shop. If anyone comes looking for John, they'll be met with an eerie but clearly upset-looking witch instead. ]

Oh, sorry— [ She distracted, startled by any new presence in the shop. ] Can I help you—?

[ She'll also be found down at The Farther Shores, staring off into the ocean for what seems like hours. There's been plenty of times she's sat here when Diarmuid left, wondering how he fares out beneath the waves. But here now, there's a deep grief to her as she sits with her knees pulled to her chest. Plenty of people have left her, she's used to people leaving both here and in Deerington — but it doesn't stop it hurting any less. Sometimes there's pains that one just can't seem to get used to. ]

☽ pretty face with pretty bad dreams | corruption — april 16th - april 21st
cw: hopelessness, corruption, body horror, magical violence.
note: luna can be encountered alone, or with the possibilty of Peter / Paimon @possessum with her. contact jhey @skeletals.plurk and i for plotting!

[ It feels like some kind of joke that the witch who loves magical creatures so much should find themselves so cursed by them. She's captivated by the creatures, curious of them — but that curious awe of hers comes with a steep cost. The steady foothold she already has with her own Corruption holds fast, and Luna finds herself drained of hope and swiftly falling into the deeper clutches of it.

As a result, she's far worse in terms of her state of Corruption. Her antlers have grown substantially; points grown tall and sharp as they reach up and outwards. The entirety of hair no longer looks like hair, but strange appendages that looks eeriely similar to that of Moon Presence. Her nails are sharp and claw-like, her eye teeth more pronounced and eyes glow far brighter in the dark.

But most disturbingly is her entire demeanour: those who know Luna will find her cold and indifferent. Her usual dreamy gazes now steely stares. For the times she's out of the house, she meets any interaction with an icy kind of aggression. She will react poorly to those who love and know her well, and actively hostile to anyone who doesn't. Peter and Paimon perhaps remain the sole people she won't actively mistreat, but even then as she travels about the city there's a cold, haughtiness towards them both.

She's quick to use magic on others as she goes about her business; jinxing others out of their way, even poor Trenchies themselves just trying to survive, trying to safely move about in their day to day life. Or even anyone who's caught staring at her worsened state of Corruption will be met with quickly escalating level of violence — some poor person might end up with a stinging hex to the face so they can no longer see. Or she'll jinx people's tongues to the roof of their mouths, hex people's knees to reverse themselves — just about anything to cause a satisfactory amount of misery.

And she dares anyone to come up against her; recklessly fierce as she just about goads people who might want to do anything against she does in retaliation to these perceived slights. Best to leave her alone. Not only will going up against her will end up with the very real threat of dark magic being used upon them, but if Peter's accompanying her, they may have a very angry demon against them, too. ]

☽ no end in sight // the rest you know | beasthood — april 21st - late april
cw: beasthood, minor body horror, possibilities of fatal injuries, magical distraction, possibile injuring via goring or mauling, mention of wild animal death
note: luna can be encountered alone, or with the possibilty of Peter / Paimon @possessum with her. contact jhey @skeletals.plurk and i for plotting!

— closed to clarisse

[ There's certainly no tipping moment that sends her over the edge. It creeps up on her quietly; spent too long in the ends of Corruption. Some slow-paced crawl to something that simply tips when the weight becomes too much. On a rare time she doesn't have Peter or Paimon sticking close to her side, that she's alone while she's out and about in Gaze — she feels suddenly sick and dizzy. Sweat starts to pour from her and she sways on the spot. Something ripples uncomfortably within her, like something's trying to claw its way out from her skin.

She staggers in the street through the dark. The cold, cruel demeanour suddenly breaks, a slither of herself peeking through once more and she gasps loudly. A tiny piece of fear. Whatever it is beneath her skin wants out, her heart beating too hard and too fast in her chest — like it might explode. ]

No, no, no— [ Stop it. Stop it. But she can't stop it, she doesn't know how. She doesn't think she can. She keeps moving forward, staggering on — bumping into people, trying to shove them out of her way. There's a ferociousness to her voice, but even Luna herself isn't sure if it's anger or desperation. ] Move, move—! Now—!

— ota

[ She goes on a full on rampage. There's little reason to her directions at first, simply tearing through the districts of Gaze and then Willful Machine. She's lost in a frenzy of herself, overcome with new sights and sounds and the wildness of herself. Something very raw and feral that careens into buildings and people with little thought.

Her focuses on others are random, for the most part — just whoever seems to get into her path. Those who know her well and have a good relationship might have a chance of stopping her in her tracks for a moment, but not for long. Soon enough the beast part of her takes over once more and she'll be escaping. Anyone she doesn't know well or isn't on friendlier terms will find themselves getting targeted. She'll be meeting them with sharp claws, sharp antlers, and wild blasts of accidental magic. The blasts can damage buildings, or set fire to them; she might shock or burn others who get too close. Best to stay out of her way.

After unleashing carnage around the populated areas of Trench and clashing against others in her path, Luna does eventually leave the city to move towards the quiet districts. She'll head towards the woods of Trenchwood, where it's less busy and there are less people about. She wants to get away from any Hunters and their sharp swords and deadly weapons. Despite all the anger, she is very much like a wild animal — she feels trapped by the buildings, aggravated by seeing people. She wants to be alone. Taking to the woods is a far better option for her, and just about everyone else, really.

She'll exist quietly out here, exploring and resting from her earlier fights, and will be very much placid if left alone. That's not to say she won't attack anyone who dares come near. She'll be tolerant of other beasts, if they're well behaved — and will share her space or latest kill of some poor hapless animal who came across her with them if they're in need of food. But if you're a person, odds are she'll be growling and snorting, her head lowering to brandish her antlers: back off. ]

☽ wildcard

[ something else in mind? i'm open to plotting! closed prompts available. contact @heolstor.plurk or heolstor#5725. plotting comment is here. ]

Comments

[creidim]

Luna's come to quickly like notepads and pens during her time in Deerington. Just about everything's written with quills and parchment back in Hogwarts, and it's not the most practical to carry around. She'd made sure to stock up, so she's been fortunate to have plenty to start her off in Trench. It's refreshing to not have to worry about ink spillages or crumpled paper so much any more.

She waits politely while he writes, eyebrows lifting slightly when he appears finished. There's a slight hesitation, eyeing the knife for a moment before she steps closer to collect the notebook and pen from him. Wrench. What a curious name, she thinks. And that John let him stay here in the shop. She breathes out a soft oh at that before pausing at his question, her face drawn slightly.

"No." she shakes her head. She looks forlorn, her lips pursing briefly. He must need her to write back to her, she realises. Shifting her wand about, she pauses to start writing a reply as neatly as she can.

I'm Luna. John left me the shop. I don't really know why I came. She stops briefly, upset in her expression before she writes a question to him, and then holds the notepad and pen to him: When you say 'stay', do you mean 'live'?

He's... been about quite a few times, now she thinks about it.

[wwrench]

It doesn't occur to him to avert his eyes as she reads the words from the page. In fact, Wrench keeps right on staring for all the time it takes her to pen her reply. That critical gaze might be enough to stop someone in their tracks, but he's only looking for any signs of emotion that might give shape to the words he's about to read. The way her message might quirk her brow or make her lips purse just to write down. She seems sad. That's not surprising, he thinks.

He wanted to hate John from the first moment he met the man back in Deerington. He'd had more than enough reason to, Wrench thinks to himself even know. The stranger whose arms his own husband had ran into seemed so cocky and self-assured. It was almost as if he'd been actively trying to piss Wrench off. They'd both been like that to the bitter end, he thinks. They'd squabbled and disagreed and found increasingly outlandish ways to get under each other's skin, but there's no one left that Wrench was as close to as John.

By the time he takes the notebook back, Wrench feels the prickle of emotion at the backs of his eyes and in his nose. He steels himself with a huffed breath and reads the woman's name with an air of realization. Luna, the one who had helped John subdue Maul.

Yes, he writes, sharp and to the point. He's not surprised that John's made provisions for his disappearance. Wrench purses his lips and writes a little more. Give me ten minutes and I'll clear out of your way.

[creidim]

She's sad, yes. Quietly wounded, underneath. She holds her grief so carefully inside of her. Her relationship with John hasn't always been completely easy and smooth sailing. They've had their moments when they've butted heads. But John is — was perhaps the closest thing to a father in this place. Especially after choosing to leave her own father behind, back home.

When the notebook is returned to her, and there's a few seconds for her to read what he's saying, her expression shifts into one of being completely dumbfounded. Clear out of her way—? She looks up at him with a questioning look for a long moment. He's going to leave? Now? ... Why?

"No, no." she shakes her head quickly. She puts the pen to paper, writing quickly this time. She isn't telling him to leave, she's not telling him to get out. If this was an agreement put into place by John that this man should stay here, live here — then it is absolutely not her place to change that. She wouldn't dare, even if she does find herself the new owner.

Why would you leave? You live here.

[wwrench]

Half of what's contained in this shop is a mystery to Wrench. Every book and every bottle is a lesson he foolishly thought they'd have more time to get around to. Long, frigid nights still on the horizon where he imagined himself sitting alongside John as the man explained a bit more of what he knew about magic. He knows now he's a fool to have ever let himself get complacent. How could he think their time was guaranteed after watching so many others he's loved disappear? Wrench purses his lips and watches Luna write faster, like there's a thought she doesn't want to risk leaving her mind before she gets it down.

He'll have to find someone else to teach him. Someone willing to let him into their mind, and someone he trusts enough to open up his to their perusal. Telepathy's an ironic power for a man like Wrench who's spent his whole life learning how to mitigate conversation, but it feels so invasive. The first time it happened with John, it had been a complete accident.

When she hands the notebook back, Wrench almost laughs at the words. His green eyes practically smile as he looks to the page and her and back again. It's your shop, not a halfway house for a grown man. You wouldn't be comfortable, would you?

[creidim]

There's plenty enough Luna doesn't know about herself. Magic as she is, the kind of magic from John's world is still very different to her own. She's still in the process of learning the more 'occult' kinds of magic. John had done a little of that process with her, but it's something she'll have to continue with.

It's hardly a question about her comfort or not, but she honestly doesn't mind the thought of the whole set up going on here. If Wrench has been here this whole time, then it's certainly been something of a peaceful situation—? He hasn't been any trouble, from what she can tell. Her brow furrows slightly in disagreement as she writes.

My shop now, but still your home. She turns the notebook to show him it before turning it back to write a little more. Her expression shifting into a quieter kind of grief, eyes blinking quickly to keep back the glossiness of them.

John wanted you to stay.

"So you stay." she taps the pen against the word 'stay'. If that's what John would want, then she's not going to kick the poor man out. She shakes the notebook in her hands once for emphasis. "Please."

[wwrench]

Knowing something implicitly is a far cry from seeing it spelled out in black and white. To read Luna's assessment of John's hope for him feels like a punch to the very center of his chest. For a second, Wrench scarcely feels like he can draw in a breath. The weight of it is too much to bear. For all they bickered and disagreed and fought, he knows John cared for him at least as much as he did for the man as well. And now it all feels for naught. Another person lost forever. Someone else destined only to live in his memories.

He's so tired of outlasting them all. Of the curse of being the one left standing when everyone else fades away. Wrench sucks in a hard breath and feels the moisture in the backs of his eyes swell past the reservoir and down his cheeks. With a huff of annoyance, he swipes them away and balls his hands into fists. It's too easy from there to raise one to his chest. I'm sorry, he signs, without quite knowing why. For the emotion he can hardly keep a handle on? For his mere presence in this place? For their shared loss of John?

Wrench gestures for the notebook and pen like he could hide his pained expression in a downward gaze at the page. Only as long as you say I can, he barters. I can help out. Whatever you need. Maybe not with all the magic stuff. He was teaching me, but I don't know much. I'm good with my hands, though.

sorry for the delay on getting back to this!

[creidim]

Luna watches him carefully, something processing within him that seems to bow him under its pressure. Despite her own tears prickling at her eyes, the surprise of it softens something in her — it's kind of complicated loss, but a loss nevertheless. She doesn't understand the gesture, but she understands enough in her own way. His tears, how his hand moves about his chest, over his heart.

It feels almost rude, intrusive on someone's hurt when they're much of a stranger. But here they are. And there's a need to comfort over that, even with her own grief over John's loss. She returns the notebook, waits patiently while he writes. There's a glimmer of curious interest in him learning about magic in her expression, her mouth drawn for a moment at the rest: it's not needed, he doesn't need to trade just to stay here. But maybe he doesn't want to stay here without some kind of exchange.

Luna wipes at her own eyes with the heel of her hand and nods. Alright. Tucking the notebook under her arm for a moment, she reaches carefully to try and take his hand, if he'll let her. With her other hand, she raises it in a silent thumbs up gesture, offering him a watery smile. They can figure something out.

Then: If you want to keep learning, maybe I can help. John's magic is different to mine. But maybe we can work something out.