deercountry | open | lights are on but nobody's home

Entry tags:

open | lights are on but nobody's home

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

☽ 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. ]

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[ it doesn’t help that the sun hasn’t risen for weeks, so dark in the streets that falco must follow perle’s snowy glow as the pygmy falcon omen glides as white and mystic as a nearby star in slow drifts and circles to accompany his steps. he carries with him a cradled egg creature in his arms with the warmest of smiles— despite it all, argonaut has truly blessed him this month, hanging on his back and leaving faint, dusty glows in his wake. he was full of hope, he was better than he’s ever been during these months he’s situated himself in trench. he has mushrooms to make soup with. he has books to read, lights to put around the house as much as incense.

there was something in the polluted air regardless that hadn’t sat well with perle. she urged her boy, warned him with a mental nudge to quicken his steps and find an open building to run into, abandoned or otherwise until it was safe to come out. the streets were empty by the time falco begins the search for cover, and his little egg creature had chirped, quite innocently, at the illuminating eyes from within the sockets of a massive skull nearly one with the shadow just at an opening between the street edge of gaze and the mouth of dense trees of woodlands that eventually led to the boardwalk and crenshaw.

falco had frozen cold, and for the quick second his omen had to buy him time lost with his gasp, she grows in size and dives with wings wide and talons flared. she’d go right through the beast, and in the meantime—

falco bolts. ]

[ It's easy enough how quickly people seem to scatter from her, good in some ways and vexxing in others. She doesn't want to be around people, around the noise — she wants to be far, far away. But the wild rage of Beasthood is a ferocious force and it drives her to chase and attack; the cover of darkness is a blessing.

There's a low grumbling sound as she stalks towards the boy and his small ensemble, sharp teeth of a yawning maw glinting from the dull green of the endless night. And suddenly before she can do much else, the giant bird swoops in for her. Luna snaps up, trying to attack the Omen, but it's no more than a distraction as the boy makes a run for it.

He gets a good enough head start. The realisation that the bird is only holding her back soon comes and she catches sight of the boy fleeing and with a echoing roar, starts to give chase after him. ]

[ perle shrieks angrily at the beast to return its attention, but once her intentions and limits are clear, she is nothing but an oversized ghost. the omen dissipates with something as easy as a slash, though she returns to form and quickly flaps after her boy like a bat in the night. she's coming, the omen speaks for falco to hear, but falco can't help but to wonder she?

a sleeper trapped in beasthood. he can't turn back now as he made it into the thicket of trees that stray from the streets. he had to take care of confetti, who was startled as is by the wild mix of auras, of fear and ferality, nowhere close to joy— he had to stop somewhere, and the first opening of a gnarled tree's roots and cracks in bark enough to fit his hand in, he slides to the base and scrapes his knees in the rush to secure the egg in the wrap he's slung in, fitting him inside. hushed, so hushed and quickly: ]

Stay there— Stay right there, I'll come back for you.

[ falco flings his messenger bag off his shoulders to stuff the hole closed, to keep the shrilling and crying confetti in, hoping to muffle his frightened and objecting chirps. he could hear the beast breathing his way, stalking fast and he may not have the chance to dash ahead of it any longer. the time perle had managed was spent on the ovoid ball of joy.

it was worth it, he thinks— so falco stumbles, pushes his weight off his scratched palms and the balls of his feet to run the other way, wait just a second to make sure the beast catches sight of him, before he does what his body could manage with distance and speed. not too much. ]

[ She has little interest in the creature he carries. At least, not in this moment. It might be something to eat later, perhaps. When she's hungry — would it be edible? But generally there's not much of her attention spared to other creatures unless they're trying to fight her. No, she's far more interested in trying to get to the boy, who stops short as if to wait for her before legging it through the woods.

It doesn't take much to close the distance; what she might lack in size compared to other beasts, she makes up in swiftness. Darts through the trees with shuddering, clouding breaths into the air as she chases after the boy.

Once she's close enough, her head bows — sharp antlers lowering. With a final leap, she thrusts her head out and makes contact with fabric then flesh, piercing through soft skin and muscle with little effort before she lifts up, taking the boy off the ground as she skids to a stop.

With a roar, she holds the caught boy almost triumphantly. The air smells of flowers, overwhelmingly so — blood dripping down from her antlers. It takes a moment to realise something is wrong; something in her senses repulsed, angered. The boy is wrong, his blood is wrong. Something foul and rotten.

She shakes herself roughly, dislodging him from her antlers and discarding him — tossing him to the forest floor. There's another roar, teeth snapping together as she starts to draw near again — wary of his blood; kill the boy, kill the unnatural. ]

[ he could have run so far— had there been another outcome he was expecting? to safely flee, maybe. now, falco was here: lodged against the mangled hooks of this beast’s antlers, hanging there, feeling the air getting forced out of his lungs and losing the ability to breathe when they’ve already lost pressure within his chest cavity. vileblood pours through his wounds, splatters across the beast’s exposed skull-jaw— he tries to keep his hands, these tiny, green stained hands where the bone has ejected flesh, lung, and pieces of rib. the pain isn’t there at the first second, the first second his body jostles into a silent shock. it ebbed in slowly, agonizingly, and by the time he was forcibly ripped from the antlers by sheer force alone, it builds up, one fatal blow on top of the other: cracked ribs, perforated lungs, mangled guts and fractured limbs. he scream, but nothing squeaks past his throat—

the last thing blurring vision sees is of the beast approaching him. should he wait here? should he die, in favor of keeping his own hand out of this mess? out of harming someone who is also in terrible pain? he doesn’t know what it was, but it was instinct. it was natural. he wanted to live. and to live—

(fight—)

was that his thought? was that what he wanted?

(fight—)

he cannot question the sparks that dance from his bloody frame now; he sees too much red to question it. she harmed him. he would be dead. she would hurt more, kill more— falco’s eyes burst with aggressive fight with the influence of the horror within him, that he was attacked, and in turn, if he wanted to survive, if he wanted to protect others from this fate, including his special little egg, hidden away in trees, then . . .

he had to deliver, in kind.

too close to him, and the beast would feel the scorching heat that built around this boy before he exploded, or at least, that’s what it seemed like. a bolt hits him, a light grows and a nasty sound strikes where his body had laid— there, forming in his place in seconds, in bone, ligament, muscle and feathers, was a beast of his own.

the jaw titan emerges from his will to live and the silence’s influence to fight back. quite the large thing, meters in height and packing his own terrible set of black talons armored with scales, of a bony jaw that wrapped around his face like a natural mask, and two different sets of snapping teeth. falco shrieks and leaps for her with talons flared wide, with his beak jaw unhinged, and aiming to pin her with every force in his new body to the earth she threw him on. ]

[ The light makes her pause, half-captivated by how dazzling it is. But something inside of her shifts uneasily, senses danger. Her hackles rise; the boy is more wrong, more unnatural than she could initially sense. She doesn't like this, doesn't like what this light, this heat might bring.

A low snarl slowly lurches up in the back of her throat and she stands her ground, claws digging into the earth beneath her. The growl's cut short as the boy shifts into something else, another kind of beast. Something fizzles inside of her, a kind of memory — tiny fragments of it dipping in her mind's eye like the skipping of a pebble across water. She's seen a beast like this before, in the midst of battle, of war.

There's little time to dwell on the thought.

As he leaps, so does she — throwing herself at full force with a roar. She collides with him, and the balance tips, sending her backwards under his weight.

But easy to pin down, she is not. What she lacks in physical strength and size, she makes up for in speed. She wrestles, refusing to keep still — front claws reaching to swipe and maul wherever she can land a blow, back claws kicking up to dig furiously at his underbelly. ]

[ the jaw nimble talons angrily batter with the beast beneath him, attempting to find limbs and crush them beneath a hold but he can’t— she waves them too frantically, and to compensate his own limbs extend against her’s as far as he could go, as much as he could swat at her blade-like claws. it wasn’t working, her limbs were too long, and in this land-preferred version of this boy’s vessel, too short to keep her at bay.

the more she lacerates his abdomen, his chest, anywhere that was soft and lacking in boney armor. the more deep green stains his feathers and falls onto her in thick, steaming splatters. the sweet scent of an entire garden blooming is overwhelming, and hot, suffocatingly so like sitting in a sauna.

for falco, he feels no pain from the damage that the titan takes, but it does limit how much the body can function. he had to get away from the blunt force of her claws, he had to get closer. keep still—! he thinks, shouting in his own head as he sank his saw-edged beak between the space of her neck and shoulder, careful as to not get anything too important, as well as careful not to bite too deep. he doesn’t want to mail her, he wants to stop her before she harms anyone else. once his jaws lock into place, only blasting them off would undo the vice he’s created. he limits the space between them, even if the gore ugly— it’s already steaming to heal, and the temperature as he regenerated was enough to burn a human stuck against it for too long.

keep still, please—! ]

[ The stench of flowers is overwhelming, suffocating; she wants away from it. Wants to get far as possible from it, and how it floods her senses. It's too much, and she fights so desperately against it but it only get worse — and she only gets more desperate.

But it's not just the assault on her senses, it's the heat of the blood. She shrieks, yelps — the endless loop of tearing and healing of flesh creating that's alarming. Too hot, too much — sending her into a frenzy until—

A sharp pain; through the fur, the skin breaks. Jagged edges tearing at her, not clamping down too hard but hard enough to hurt. She yowls, a high-pitched sound of agony — blood oozing from the wound, the strong scent of warm milk. It's hard to see through the darkness of her fur, but under the haunting green moon above them, it shifts into a shimmering iridescent glow — like pure moonlight itself.

The giant beast won't let go, no matter how much she struggles. The grip holds firm. And under the heat, starting to fizzle at her fur and the skin beneath — she starts losing the fight in her, can't move beneath them. But she shrieks: long, echoing sounds of torment — an animal wounded, exhausted. Help. ]

( The Bond, the Pact, is supposed to help Peter save her. But she's too fast, too wild — and he's too slow. Too weak. He can't keep up with her. Physically, emotionally, he can't reach her, can't stay.

Still, he tries. He's exhausted, overwhelmed; he follows her through the dark city and to its edge as much as he can, but he'd lost her nearly an hour ago..... Peter's been calling out with a progressively hoarse voice until he can barely form sounds at all. The only reason Paimon hasn't fully taken control of things yet is because the demon knows Peter has to be the one to ultimately reach Luna, bring her back.

But when that scream sounds from somewhere in the black wood — a shriek, pained, inhuman — the demon's immediately clawing out of its vessel and dragging its tired body, scraping its way through trees and tangled limbs, nostrils flared. Paimon follows those tormented wails until he comes to the source of them, met with the sight of her being pinned down by some huge creature with its jaws locked against her. He can smell her blood, still familiar to him, but through it... something else. Another blood's scent.

There isn't time to think about anything. The demon's livid, anger rising up in him like waves of heat; he's snarling up at the huge thing that has his witch, eyes swollen pitch-black and shining with a wet sheen. Insect-like, alien.

He springs — almost seems to fly, though it isn't a smooth movement but an erratic one, long limbs twitching and scrambling. Right at the thing's head, where he'll lock onto the side of its face, screaming, trying to bite, claw, rip. It's hard, its face protected by some strange bony mask, but the demon turns its attention further down — to the nearest glowing eye, where he targets an inferno of flames. )

[ falco can feel his gut wrench, he's sorry, he's so sorry, he doesn't want to hurt you but he does want to stop you— perhaps enough of his vileblood would subdue her, all he needed to do was clap down and resist. he can hear it through pointed ears, like a squeal somewhere amidst of the larger beast's cry, constant and begging for help— he can see a blur, he can see something human-shaped off the corner of his eye.

—peter? why is peter— something inside of falco causes him to shiver, and the titan reacts the way his true body does; his massive frame gives a tremble from top to bottom, and every feather he has stands on end. no, that's—!

in the split second the fire bursts in the sockets of the titan's eye, falco can no longer see through it, like a camera that's been pummeled. the smell of burning flowers comes crisp in the night. his concern escalates, his fear ascends with it the more the realization brings a connection. if it's peter, paimon, then this is . . . . miss luna—!? so many feelings, all at once. he wants to pry himself off, but part of him knows he can't. the stench of the silence fumes through his breath and drips through the crevices of his jaws. it oozes like his blood does, but it smells of rot and sulfur. he can feel the silence stirring, wanting a peek of what was happening, wanting to reach out at the entity so grand to teach it.

not now—! falco thinks, quivering his hold on the titan's own grasp, but truth had been that he was stunned. he no longer attacks, nor does he actively keep his weight pinned as he'd done moments ago. he is not only worried about harming them, either of them— but he also fights a second battle, one that is crawling out of its hole in slime to say i am here, too. ]

[ She's been heard. The boy, and the creature that sits beneath his skin — the one most familiar to her, but who's names have been lost to her — has heard her. She'd thought they might have been nearby somewhere, they're following her around — keeping distances, but a presence that hovers like a shadow.

There's flames, and the scent of rot in amongst the overwhelming blooms. She writhes in disgust, desperate to get away, still half-shrieking in both pain and desperation. The boy, the giant — everything is so wrong to her, to her senses.

When the giant's hold falters, when she's released from iron-clad teeth, she twists herself back onto her belly, tries to crawl out from under him. Blood oozes from the neck wound, shimmering under the green moonlight. He doesn't seem to be trying to keep her pressed down, at least. And she's got enough fight and strength to clamber out — but she's weakened, slow to move, not quite out of reach yet. ]

( Paimon clings to The Monster, unsure what shape to give it — a fellow demon? Something like him? Something not? — but categorising the source of Luna's screams doesn't matter so much just now. It's The Monster, this huge bony thing.....

....and then he smells it. Feels it, some shift of energy against his own sensitive spirit. It pools out of the mouth that's latched against Luna, slowly, something dark and wet and searching that creeps out. The demon pauses, staring over, eyes wide and seeking. The entity he'd encountered once that oozed. So lost, so hungry; it had so desperately scratched at its surface. And its surface was—

—Falco. The young one that Peter's been taking under his wing so warmly and so sadly. The demon freezes, comprehension strange and wild. This Monster... is it Falco? And the slimy thing... it's here, too. )

Make him—! Make him leave her!

( The demon screams in tongues, in too many voices and languages, a roar that would burst the ears of a human. He's unknowing if the slimy thing will be able to control its vessel when Falco's in this form. But at least his hold on Luna seems to have relinquished some; she's moving, bleeding, and Paimon scrambles closer to Falco's strange dual sort of mouth, jaw layered upon jaw. Closer to where the Silence is oozing out. He hooks one hand around a tooth, pulls himself closer still.

Then he's shoving as hard as he can, but it's not only physically; there's a surge of energy, like wind itself that seems to slam against the titan, an invisible force. It's the demon king's telekinetic prowess, all of it focused on the huge thing still against Luna. This body he's trapped in is so small in comparison to the titan, but his energy swells and pushes. Trying to get it off her, away from her, so she can escape. )

[ a single step back from the momentum of power trusted onto him was all it took to free luna. even if the titan had repositioned his talons to find footing— he was still blinded, he couldn't see a thing, but his limbs, they wanted to move without his consent. falco's panic escalates: i don't want to hurt peter, or luna—, just enough for the ooze to drip, and speak without speaking. what comes from the titan's dual maw is an unholy shriek as it twisted every way possible to pinpoint where the demon stood. it could hear him, it could feel him. a croak gurgles and hollowly expels from the creature's beak. there are words, but there aren't. there is a confusing quietness that settles into the mind of the encased being before thoughts sound chaotic beyond recognition. but they piece together something, that roughly resembles the defiance of something young and learning:

wₐₛₙ'ₜ ᵢₜ yoͦuͧ
wₕₒ s͛aͣiͥdͩ
рⷬrͬoͦᴛⷮeͤcͨᴛⷮ ₜₕₑ ʅǝssǝʌ ?

it cares not for luna, unhinges the titan's outer set of bone jaws and sawtoothed edges to snap, blindly but insistently. whatever it was that paimon was feeling for the beast-turned witch, right now—

it felt close to anger and panic. it wants him. ]

[ She feels the force of the push against the jaw trapping her, and the hold against her releases. Little time is wasted and she moves quickly to escape. She manages to struggle free, out from under him. Slow, staggering movements — clawing at the earth beneath her and pulling herself to her feet once she's cleared the giant. It's difficult to bear weight on one side — blood still seeps from her shoulder. But she's freed, uttering sharp snorts and growls in between the soft whines of pain.

The final strands that keep her connected to the demon, that recognise him as something not a threat, but something close to her, stops her from immediately bolting. She turns back towards the giant, an open maw as she roars in warning: leave him be, vile thing.

But oh— the pull to flee is too strong. A simple beast who will chase and hunt, but will run, too. She is hurt, no fit state to fight. And the giant still reeks of blossoms, something averse to her senses. She wants to leave, find somewhere safe to hide amongst the trees. Her head lifts to the demon, utters a soft howl that's almost melancholic in sound.

And she quickly turns to limp off into the gloom. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

open | lights are on but nobody's home

i am here to chomp

delicious

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cw injuring via goring

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