deercountry | [Open] Long and Weary

Entry tags:

[Open] Long and Weary

Who: D, his Left Hand, and anyone
What: D arrives and wanders around and behaves strangely.
When: Early May
Where: Various places.

Content Warnings:: None in the prompts, will be added to subject lines as needed

Just after arriving in town for the first time

Outwardly, D was perfectly calm and collected despite having just washed up on a beach as a squid. He was dressed in his familiar hat and heavily patched great coat, his sword on his back and his blue pendant around his neck.

There was no sign that this was anything other than an ordinary day for him, except perhaps the fact that he was carrying a saddle and attached saddlebag over his left shoulder. That, and every now and then the fingers of his left hand would twitch.

While looking for somewhere suitable to store the saddle for which he had no use and to claim as a place to stay, a strange noise came from the vicinity of his hand and the saddle slipped from his grasp. Rather than immediately pick up the saddle, D flexed the ungloved fingers of his left hand and squeezed his hand into a tight fist a few times.

Watching the rain around town, a couple days after arriving

D had been around the city, but mostly kept out of plain view, visible often only as a dark figure blending in with the shadow of whatever was near. He wore his normal dark clothing, but now the robe he'd been given when he arrived was worn outside the heavy coat, and still wearing a glove only on his right hand.

Reassured of his self control, D ventured into areas with more people. He found unobtrusive places around more populated areas of the city to stand and observe, seemingly paying attention only to the rain. None of myriad of insects present throughout the city would come within a few feet of him. When they drew too close, they would suddenly decide to fly very quickly away from him.

When the rain was finished, D would move on to find another location to observe, but his steps caused not even a slight ripple when he stepped on a puddle.

Practice makes perfect, in a deserted, previously quiet alleyway

Even the slight changes in this existence were enough to have D test out his abilities and test the thousands of years he'd honed his skill and precision. D was still cautious and alert; he wasn't going to practice while anyone was watching. His senses were acute enough to catch the faint sounds of footsteps, or breathing, or even a heartbeat approaching over the soft sound of fracturing stone that echoed through the evening air.

D wasn't going to let people stop, but he also wasn't going to flee, either. Anyone who followed the sound of stone breaking, sharp but not too loud, would find D still in the location he'd chosen for his practice. He was calm and unmoving, his attention on a large block of quarried stone which had once likely been part of a larger structure.

The surface of the stone was no longer even, rough-hewn wooden needles protruding at various lengths and with cracks radiating out. They formed a grid pattern so unnervingly precise from center to center of each needle that they could have been used for measurement.

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"Then this was practice, huh?" A rhetorical observation. The dangers of Trench should never be underestimated and Sharon seemed to understand now what he must have been doing. Given all the damage done to the stone and the precision involved, she doubted he needed to practice much. Better safe than sorry, though.

At the question, she gave a brief shake of her head, finally tearing her gaze from the punctured stone, "What? No, not really. I was just.... you know, curious." She laughed, more at herself than the question. "I really should know better, though."

"Between the beasts and the insanity every month brings, it really is dangerous around here. Not that you don't eventually get used to it." She crossed her arms and shrugged, tone conversational. "It's in everyone's best interest to not get too curious about weird shit, especially if you're not one of the Hunters."

"Though, I've got a feeling you might be able to handle yourself."

Explaining that he was refamiliarizing himself with his slightly now unfamiliar body was more than D cared to do, so he didn't bother to correct her assumption.

"People can get used to almost anything after long enough," D observed. Those who survived would get used to it at lease.

"I've also heard there are dangers that can only be overcome by blood enhanced weapons, and mine isn't." If D had any concerns about the lack, they weren't apparent on his face or in his even tone of voice.

"Is this place very different from the one you're from?" He was still trying to piece together the puzzle that was this reality. Extradimensional creatures weren't unknown in his own reality, but anything of this scope was unheard of.

Then again, there were many who underestimated the depths of terror his own world held. Perhaps this was something that had once been known and faded into myth. So much information was lost first in the fall of the humanity's rule and then when the Nobility were overthrown.

"If you're a Coldblood or Vileblood, you could enhance your weapon yourself. It just takes a little to be smeared on it." There weren't any rituals involved or prayers to be said, just a knife and a little blood.

The moment he asked his question, Sharon appeared to close up a little. It stung to think of home and it felt impossible to put into words just how different the two worlds were. Silent Hill had similarities to Trench, if just in its existence of monsters and the way the town felt trapped, but that's where the similarities ended. "My world and this one, they're like night and day. Most people don't have magic, there aren't Beasts or magical bloodtypes. It'd be easier to talk about what was the same than what was different."

And she didn't want to talk about what was the same.

In an attempt to redirect the conversation, she rounded back to his statement on blood enhancements. "If you want, I could enhance your weapon for you?"

Normally, she'd never make such an offer. She's only worked with her blood a handful of times, mostly to test how her blood power manifests itself, but she's been feeling more confident as of late. And if what she can do can help, then why shouldn't she offer? "I'm a Coldblood and my power is fire-based. My blood would make your weapon burn anything you attacked."

She knew some Coldbloods that could electrify and others that could freeze and there were many days she wished she was one of those. Fire, though, was a part of her and had been since the burning. She would never be able to get away from it. One day, she'll get to the point where she might be able to embrace it.

D noticed the young woman's discomfort in his choice of topic, but chose not to comment on it or otherwise react. If the question had been worth something to him, he would have pursued it despite her distress, but it simply wasn't important.

He accepted her topic change back to weaponry easily enough, and walked towards her as he spoke so he could pull some of the wooden needles out of the stone.

"If I change my mind about it, could it be removed easily?"

A small, hoarse voice sounded from D's left hand where it rested by his side. "Come on, why would you pass up an easy source of fire!"

Sharon stepped to the side so as to not be in his way but remained close, watching curiously. Since her arrival, she had seen a large variety of weapons within Trench but nothing quite as unique as wooden needles; she'd never have thought they could hold up against stone. She had been ready to respond when the second voice caught her off-guard. Her brows furrowed slightly beneath her messy bangs, her expression turning quizzical.

"Um..." It sounded as if it came from his hand but that couldn't possibly be right. Then again, it was Trench. She shook her head. "I don't know, actually. I'm sure someone around here might have the knowledge necessary to."

"Your friend...?" It's not quite a question but it came out like one. "They sound interested in it, though."

D gave no indication he'd even heard the small voice until Sharon addressed what it said.

"He's not the one swinging the sword; he doesn't get a say in it." D said as he examined the points of some of the wooden needles. Most had held up suitably well for him, but a few would need to be whittled down to a fine point again. "Would your blood work on these as well, or is fire incompatible with wood?"

He'd gone through a lot of trouble to get this sword, and wasn't prepared to make such a change in its utility unless necessary. Some of his more subtle skills with the sword might well become impossible with such an enhancement.

"Hey, young lady. Show me some fire, I want to see how it tastes." The voice said again from his left hand. Much as D's thirst for blood had increased, the parasite had more of an appetite as well. And less restraint when it came to asking to be fed.

"It should be fine. It's magic, after all." This was power born of blood magic and while the needles will burn anything D uses them upon, they should be able to withstand the heat themselves. She reached down to pull a knife from her boot as she spoke. She always carried one on her person now. It was better safe than sorry.

When the voice spoke up again, she frowned, her nose crinkled in a brief show of disgust as she slid her knife from its sheath. "...is it always such a creep?"

It didn't matter to her if the voice was D's friend or not, she would speak her mind about it.

"He's been more difficult since we arrived here," D admitted.

"Just because I'm hungry doesn't make me difficult. You could learn a thing or two about taking care of yourself from me!"" The small voice protested.

D set the wooden needles he'd chosen for her on the stone tablet, and backed away. Sleeper blood didn't smell human, but it still held appeal for D. He had not been this consistently thirsty in a very, very long time.

"Can't blame it. I get irritable if I don't eat." It made sense that the voice, whatever it was, would become a little more difficult to deal with. Hunger was a bitch. But she picked up on the fact that it probably wouldn't be satisfied with a cinnamon roll from the bakery or a mushroom stew. "What's it need? If its blood, there are places to get that here."

It felt odd to talk about the voice like it wasn't there but it'd feel stranger to try and address it. She was used to being able to look at who she was speaking to.

As she spoke, she dragged the blade across her palm and the blood that pooled there was a brilliant blue. It radiated cold. She picked up the needles where he'd left them and dragged them through the liquid quickly. The blood thickened in moments and by the time she was done, it was frozen. The wooden needles gleamed like icicles with her blood.

The small voice let out an amused snort at the suggestion that it might need blood, but D was the one who spoke next.

"He can consume almost anything, but he does enjoy eating fire. He was literally asking you to start a fire for him, even if he can be a bit suggestive."

"Fire's great. So are earth, wind, and water. The Big Four if they have those traditional elements as a thing where you're from. The dirt here tastes awful and the air and water aren't much better, but fire's hard to screw up no matter what you're burning."

D watched the process of enhancing his weapons with mildly visible interest. The blue blood still smelled like blood, but it didn't hold the usual appeal the sight did. Warm, fresh human blood held the most appeal for him. Blood that froze might not even soothe his thirst.

"He should try actually asking next time." She rubbed the frozen blood from her hand, unbothered. "I can conjure some fire for him. It'll be good practice."

And she could use all the practice she could get. She was still a little afraid of what she could do and always worried that the next time she used her powers, it'd trigger that dark part of her that had been Alessa and she wouldn't be able to let go.

It took just a moment of concentration. A fire sparked in the air between her open palms. It started out small but grew quickly, forming a rough sphere. The color of her eyes and skin appeared to shift as she worked, her pallor going ashen and eyes black, but it lasted so briefly it could've been just a trick of the light.

Sharon seemed proud of herself as she held out the orb that flickered and danced to D and his very odd companion. She'd never seen anything eat fire before, at least not in a parlor trick find of way, and found herself incredibly curious. She wanted to see it. "I'm Sharon, by the way. Sharon Da Silva."

D moved closer to carefully grab the blood-enhanced needles and slip them into a pocket. Leaving them lying out while his left hand ate was just asking for trouble. He watched without any emotion on his face as the young woman sparked fire between her hands.

"I'm D." He said simply after she held out the orb of fire and introduced herself. He didn't introduce his 'friend' as he held up his left hand, palm facing Sharon.

There was an ugly lump on the middle of the palm of his left hand, and an even uglier face on it, dark eyes and a misshapen nose. A mouth full of mismatched and missing teeth.

"And I'm Left Hand. You're a saint, Sharon." The little face said, giving her a smile before it opened its mouth. The wind whipped up suddenly with a loud whooshing noise as large volumes of air were sucked into the tiny mouth. The fire was sucked in as well, the sphere stretching and contorting into a line as it was pulled in.

It was over in just a few moments, leaving them both windblown and any small debris around them blown around. Curiously, the face seemed to be chewing noisily for a moment, faint hints of eerie purple light visible behind its lips.

"Mmmm... tastes a little like blood, but like the blood part of blood rather than the water part of blood. But with such a lovely spherical presentation I give it ten out of ten, my compliments to the chef."

Left Hand was a stark contrast to the dark beauty D possessed, grotesque in comparison, but if Sharon felt any disgust or shock, it didn't show on her youthful features. Trench was filled to brim with strange and unique creatures; beings she'd never have once even dreamt of beyond Silent Hill. Whatever Left Hand and D were, they were just another unique pair of strange in the city.

As Left Hand finished, Sharon blew strands of her mussed hair from her face, more surprised at the display than his actual appearance. He really did eat the fire, even chewing.

"Compliments like that will get you everywhere with me, Leftie." She practically beamed. She liked to be useful. She liked that she even could be. "You two can just shoot me a text if you ever need more. Fire or enhanced needles."

She sucked in a breath and then just blurted out her next words. "Okay, you can totally tell me to fuck off if I'm being too nosy, but... are you two like conjoined twins?"

The face on D's left hand gave Sharon a broad, toothy grin that made the skin around it wrinkle slightly. Another contrast to D's expressionless face. It was opening its mouth to respond when Sharon spoke again, and the face visibly grimaced at the words 'conjoined twins'.

"I wasn't born with him. He's a parasite," D explained.

That made the face scrunch up before it spoke again. "Semantics. I'm more of a partner than a leech." Left Hand said, chuckling at what he viewed as a good joke. "And if you need help you can give D a call. Unless it's picking out clothes. Don't trust him with that."

That little joke at his expense, or perhaps the offer made on his behalf, had D curling the fingers of his left hand in slightly. A warning and reminder that he could and would make a fist if the face in his hand got too mouthy.

It was apparent that the two weren't the best of friends regardless of how they'd come to be and Sharon picked up on that. She noticed the slight curl of D's fingers on his left hand and wondered if that was his way of making Leftie, his parasite or leech or forced companion, quiet.

Her grin dimmed. She should really learn to not just blurt out her first thoughts.

"Oh, come on, D's got the kind of fashion sense that fits in with this place. All dark and gloomy." She dragged her blue eyes from Left Hand's squinted ones to D's, tone full of assurance. "But don't worry, I won't call if I need help. I'm not helpless. Plus, I know my guardian is out there somewhere. If I ever get into real trouble, he'll find me."

There was no indication if D took the description of his fashion sense as 'dark and gloomy' as either a compliment or an insult. For him, his clothing was merely a practical choice. Sturdy but well-worn, and well suited to sneaking around and his affinity for shadows.

"Needing help doesn't make you helpless. If you need it, you should ask. If you don't need it, then don't ask." Great motivational words of wisdom from D, but he did respect a choice to stand on her own. The reassurance that some mysterious guardian would come to rescue her was less positive in his eyes, but it was possible she was entirely correct.

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[Open] Long and Weary

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