Entry tags:
- !event,
- attack on titan: erwin smith,
- attack on titan: falco grice,
- attack on titan: levi ackerman,
- ddlc: monika,
- ddlc: sayori,
- fate/grand order: kiara sessyoin,
- gundam: angelo sauper,
- kipo: kipo oak,
- the gifted: lorna dane,
- undertale: papyrus,
- undertale: sans,
- world of warcraft: anduin wrynn,
- world of warcraft: wrathion
FEBRUARY 2021 EVENT: PART TWO
CHAPTER TWO, PART 2: THE LIVING ISLAND
Everything you never wanted to see.
YOU CAN’T DO A LITTLE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T DO ENOUGH | JUST A DREAM FROM YESTERDAY | DARKNESS HELD ITS BREATH | YOUR FRIENDS WHEN THINGS GET ROUGH | COME AND PLAY WITH ME
YOU CAN'T DO A LITTLE BECAUSE YOU CAN'T DO ENOUGH
↑ back to top ↑
JUST A DREAM FROM YESTERDAY
Living Island. If ever there were a first step to stopping this madness, it’s figuring out what those words mean. But starting is always the hardest part, and with nothing else to go by than two seemingly unrelated, nonsensical words left behind by a force you can’t see much less communicate with, an already arduous task seems even more impossible. This is furthered by the reactions you get when you hit the street and start asking people if they know anything about Living Island. Most of them can only look back at you blankly, as if waiting for a punchline that never comes. Others actually take you seriously enough to consider the question, and to their credit, they do take their time racking their brains to remember where they’ve heard that name before, why it sounds so familiar. But the most you’ll get back from them is a sheepish shrug of the shoulders and a reply that it sounds like something from TV. It gets to the point where their answers blend together, each one more unremarkable than the last. Save for the one you get from the last person you haven’t asked. Living Island.
|
↑ back to top ↑
DARKNESS HELD ITS BREATH
CW: gore, surgery
↑ back to top ↑
YOUR FRIENDS WHEN THINGS GET ROUGH
CW: gore, surgical trauma, amputation, lobotomy, brainwashing and interrogation, mouth trauma, eye trauma, ear trauma, body horror
↑ back to top ↑
COME AND PLAY WITH ME
CW: blood and violence
↑ back to top ↑
OOC INFO
Welcome to the second part of February’s event! You can use this entry to top-level for the event, but feel free to utilize the log and network communities as well.
There will be a top-level posted for NPC interaction tied to the second prompt below, wherein you can request to play out your character’s interaction with Harding or Rosemary. If you would like to have your character interact with either one of them, comment to the top-level with the name of the NPC you would like to thread with. You may only thread with one NPC. The mods will respond to NPC tags until February 28th.
Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.
There will be a top-level posted for NPC interaction tied to the second prompt below, wherein you can request to play out your character’s interaction with Harding or Rosemary. If you would like to have your character interact with either one of them, comment to the top-level with the name of the NPC you would like to thread with. You may only thread with one NPC. The mods will respond to NPC tags until February 28th.
Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.
falco grice 🦅 attack on titan
option a:
option b:
ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ (one tag in, please!)
ᴀғᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ (ota)
ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ
Wake
That's what Levi's focused on at the moment anyway. The entirely impersonal, dehumanizing way they're being handled and the utter lack of any time reference is all purpose driven to break them down, and he's refusing to play into that. Falco, he notices, is well prepared for this clusterfuck. Not that much of a surprise.
What he doesn't expect is the kid to say he knows their location, and that gets his full attention. He shifts with a grunt, leaning against the bars. ]
How do you figure that?
no subject
[ if he was correct, the distant bell would ring to signal the end of some period, the start or end of the day. which one it was, he couldn’t keep count. whenever he fell asleep or woke up again, his sense of time would go completely scrambled, but at least . . . if it’s ringing, it’s not nighttime. ]
I went to school at night, the day before we woke up here and there were things in the rooms, they didn’t belong— [ his head sags though, as does his grip on the bars. ] I didn’t have time to tell Mister Erwin.
[ there seems to be a lot to unpack, though. ]
no subject
And even if you wrote any of it down, no one out there'd be reading it, right? [ He breathes out a short, heavy sigh. ] Figures.
no subject
If Mister Erwin would check my backpack . . . But I don't know if he'll make the connection.
[ he hopes so, he sincerely hopes so even if erwin wasn't with them to hear the scraping and clattering in the school hallways when nobody was there much like their surroundings here. it would be strange enough to check out, wouldn't it? and erwin was genius. he'd been sharing notes in his little notebook completely in eldian, save for what he found that was actually written in english. survival supplies, office of civil defense, department of defense, on top of the strange power surge that just "happens because of the lab", the list went on. ]
I think we're under the school I'm going to.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
escape.
he wishes it wasn't familiar, but it was. angelo knew his legacy, and where he stood in the history of zeon in universal century. watching bits of it replay in such a strange way in this strange town has been unsettling, to say the least. when daylight told him that people were disappearing, and when wei wuxian was talking to him about 'living island', the question lingered in his head: are they the anomalies, after all? they're the ones who aren't having a quiet and peaceful time here in shadyside. what is all of this? a taunt, a cry for help, a game? everything that he sees in this bunker seems too elaborate to just be the product of senseless violence. there's disgust in his face as he walks through the halls, a burning unease in his gut as he thinks of his captain and how one creates things, by studying humans and by creating one in the image thereof ....
angelo ends up in this room by accident, and he finds a cage in here, too. it's too quiet, for now, though that doesn't really mean anything. he accidentally bumps into a coat hanger on the side of this room, and that causes some slight movement on the side. he almost draws his weapon as he waits, listening to the sound of it'll make next - friend, or foe? a few heartbeats later and he hears a panicked shuffling instead, and angelo relaxes, but only slightly. one would approach, if the other was hunting and he was here to be killed; while his nerves were all over, the time to fight doesn't seem to be right now, at any rate.
except this. in the debris and the waste of this room that smells too much like antiseptics and raw meat he finds a boy, a nightmare of a boy with jaws too big for him like the big bad wolf they spoke about in some earthnoid fairy tale. it's alarming, to say the least. but he stands there, and shows him his hands in the air - universal sign, perhaps, that he's not here to harm him.
there is simply too much pain and disregard for life in these walls and angelo thinks if his captain were here he would give the other to destroy it, and he will be justified. yes, he thinks; that is the way of it.
but for now, this creature. ]
I'm here to help.
Can you speak? We have to move, and quickly.
no subject
i'm here to help is the godsend he's prayed for every god damn second he's been awake in this nightmare. the whites of the boy's eyes are clear to see even if lights were dim, and gradually, they glaze with shimmering films,, they go red as the more than relieved tears begin to build and drop from his eyelids down the disgusting maw they gave him and forced his skin to stretch so thin along the new elongated slants. can he speak? falco whimpers, chokes out a louder sound from his throat that sounds scraped and painful. maybe he could, he still had his voice, but right now, with all the swollen stitches tying tissue together— it hurt too much to consider trying.
but he's getting up, wobbly, trying in his attempt and using the bars for support. it's clear in his pleading gaze that he wants to believe that, but for some reason— he's frozen. he wants to move but his legs won't let him. he wants to reach out, but he's too frightened to make the first move. he wants to keep his eyes on his visitor, but keeps darting them to the other cages, to the hallway, to his rifle.
they didn't have much time, if this were true. he takes his first step and tentatively releases one bar to hover his hand outward. ]
no subject
good thing he hasn't do much of that, if only because there's no time - the boy can stand up, though he can't compel himself to escape. angelo takes this as permission to open up his cage, and then he sees what's been done to him: the surgical scars, the fear that pins him in his cage. he thinks of his captain with dread: did they do this to him? when they created him to become their leader, did he experience fear too?
he can't communicate to this child however that his empathy is contingent on someone who mattered to him that was never meant to be human. but it's his way of understanding what is going on with him, because he is in earth and the affairs of earthnoids were never his purview until he was dragged here, as if gravity imposed its weight on his soul until he was plunged into this bunker.
he crouches before him after opening his cage, making himself smaller, and extends his hand. ]
I don't find you frightening or pitiful.
[ well, that's a start. look, he's not the best at this. ] And it's understandable to be afraid.
But there is a town outside of this to return to, and people are probably looking for you. You have to take the first step. You are responsible for their affections; do not falter now.
no subject
it was really now, or never and he'd rot in here because he couldn't trust in anyone, and that wasn't the case for falco. never was. he could have a distrusting hunch to survive, but when there's good in someone he fights to see it. the harm that could've been done here was already at its worst, and he could say without a doubt that he's seen cruel people, but due to cruel circumstances, not because they were that way. it was a shock to experience that anyone in their right mind would do this to them all and for what reason? he couldn't understand it and it kept him here in this corner.
when it should be urging him to see the light again. the boy's gaze does change some; they go from frightened to uncertain, to quickly contemplating to emotional and expressive as his hand extends with more confidence. he wanted to apologize, for not acting as quickly or more as himself— it'd been cramped in here for too long. the man's efforts would never go in vain, he didn't want it to come to that, and grips the offered hand tentatively, then tightly.
his other hand is gentle and quick on his rescuer's shoulder, but it's vivid in expressing his thanks, followed by a tug and blinking the tears far away that built up on his eyelids. he doesn't want to stay here any longer. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw self harm mention
cw violence
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
aftermath
[It's strange, having Falco follow him around the house and want to be at his side at all times. Erwin likes the boy well enough, and he's glad that he's okay--as okay as the child can be, with what they did to his face--but Levi has always been better with the younger recruits than Erwin has, and he's not quite sure what Falco wants. Why would he think staying close to Erwin would keep him safe? Erwin can't keep anyone safe, not the way he is now, and it baffles him that no one else seems to see it.]
[Regardless, he doesn't shoo Falco away, or ignore him. If the kid wants to follow him around, then so be it. It's not hurting Erwin to have a shadow, and he racks his brain, trying to imagine how Levi would deal with this situation. Once he gets an idea, Erwin tones down the profanity and tries it out.]
Falco. [The kid has woken up from a nap on the couch, and Erwin is sitting in the armchair next to it.] Look what I found at the library.
[He holds up a book so Falco can see the binding: Treasure Island.]
The librarian recommended it. Would you like to read it with me?
no subject
his body language is more prominent now that he refrains from speaking. he carefully sits up, pats his towel at his chin and delicately where it still felt like he'd salivated close to his cheek. his greeting glance lowers once at the book in erwin's lap, rises then a little wider to show his surprise, his movement slow and he fixates on the man. treasure island.
that he's even offered to share the story has his interest. wordlessly, falco shuffles to the edge of the couch closest to erwin's chair, places his hands in his lap and . . . tries to duck his head without lowering his glance, accompanying a pull of blankets closer to his face. seems like he's still a bit self conscious, even if he feels more comfortable with company. ]
no subject
[Without realizing it, Erwin has slipped into speaking Eldian, and his voice is soft. Falco's face is horrifying, but Erwin has seen enough battlefield injuries to not be repulsed by it.]
Then again, I understand the impulse. Of everyone here, only Levi has ever seen my stump.
[Which, being well healed and scarred over, is objectively way less gross than Falco's face. Still, Erwin keeps it covered, and while he doesn't mind mentioning the lost arm, he doesn't want to wave the evidence of it around either.]
[Having dealt with that subject in as much detail as he feels like, Erwin cracks the book open. He peruses the first page, then clears his throat and starts reading. His reading voice is slower than usual, because he's mentally translating from English to Eldian.]
Squire Trelawney, Dr Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17-, and go back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn, and the brown old seaman, with the sabre cut, first took up his lodging under our roof.
no subject
Is this a true story?
[ murmured and stiff because of the shape his mouth took, it's the first time he's spoken in days. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
see: me totally handwaving how the maneuver gear actually works
that’s rocket science
literal rocket science! and I am but a lowly English grad student
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
wake - b
The most unfair, though, the most sickening, is the younger boy. The way he's behaved over the past few days has led Sayori to believe that he's not entirely unfamiliar with horrible circumstances — but that's unfair too. She can't wrap her mind around what kind of person you'd have to be to abduct a child for these procedures. These...experiments, or whatever they are. Falco shouldn't be here. He shouldn't even be in Santa Rosita.
When the room is pumped full of gas and her throat becomes tight from trying to hold her breath, she sees him reach out from his cage. She's not close enough — none of them are — but still, in the moments before darkness overtakes her vision, she reaches out for him too.
He's different when she wakes up, still hard of hearing in her right ear but no worse otherwise. Dread carves a cold pit in her stomach when she sees the bandages, the strange protruding shape of his face, and realizes what's happened. He's still asleep for quite a while after she wakes, but she watches him most of that time, waiting with sick anxiety for him to come to.
When he finally does awaken, when he realizes what's happened, her heart twists, eyes stinging with tears she tries to swallow down. As he curls up, as he cries (what a terrible sound; is he trying not to cry? Or is what they did to his face making it too painful to?) she slips her hand out from between the bars of her own cage, her fingers crawling as far out over the tile as they can towards his cage.] H-hey.
[Her voice trembles at first. That's no good. She tries again, softer, more soothing this time.] Hey. It's okay— if you need to cry, it's okay.
no subject
sayori, that was sayori talking, and it saves him the extra moment of dwelling on his questions to turn to her as if desperate for a light. her hand is so close but every single time he tries to extend his— even when his ears compress against the cool metal bars, he doesn't stretch too far. the pain keeps him from trying more, as does common sense that he'd only waste more energy. his fingers span and crawl at the stupid green tile and there'd always be an extra hand's worth of space keeping them apart. but he keeps it where he could, to show that if they were close enough, he'd definitely take her hand and hold it tight, just as tight as he's holding some balled fabric of his shirt, in hopes of tricking his mind into believing it was what he was reaching for.
silence is the warning that follows before he truly begins to bawl, even if it's only for a few seconds. falco brings his knees to his chest and leans into the bars as if begging it to hug him in sayori's place. he's never asked for much, he's never sought much of it because that's how things were but he'd always be fighting to see things different. he's always had hope. every time he opens his eyes now, it's as if the difference never existed and that hurt so fucking much. through his hics and sniffs comes a groan, and through the groan, a strained attempt at words.
why would someone, the words sound like. he tries again, but the muttered garbling is too arduous to make clearer, feeling like his lips, or what used to be of them, would tear at the slightest attempt to split them apart: it hurts miss sayori. ]
no subject
She just doesn't understand how anyone could subject people to something this terrible. This level of cruelty is beyond her comprehension.
Falco's attempts to speak are worryingly unclear, and the troubled furrow in her brow deepens as he tries to make words. Between his disfigured mouth and her dampened hearing, though, she can't make it all out. She catches why— hurts— and what she thinks is her own name, Sayori.
Why? Why, indeed?
She sniffles a deep, sharp breath through her nose and swallows down the persistent urge to cry before she answers as truthfully as she's able:] I don't know. I'm sorry. Maybe... maybe we'll be able to find some answers when we get out of here.
[When, not if. It's important that it's when. It's vital that she doesn't even consider the possibility that any of them might not make it out of here. If she did that, then crying wouldn't be a concern anymore, because empty people don't cry. Something she knows from experience. So she won't give up. She can't.
Another sniffle. There's a more determined note in her next words, though they're still soft — nurturing and protective.] I'll give you a big hug once we're out of these cages, I promise.
i don’t care how old this is im crying 😭
falco nods. he nods and wipes the tears carefully from the corner of his eyes, careful not to touch the surgical inflammation. with that, he calls out: what did they do to you?, or so it seemed. ]
aftermath
Not without contemplating the subject, at least in jest of others objections. Few back home objected, of course. Her life was her own. She'd live it as she saw fit, without caving to the pressures of throwing her career, and her life, away to something she barely cared about to begin with.
Yet, Falco... Oh, Falco. Finding Rapunzel in the cavernous torture chamber of a laboratory that was "Living Island" was hard enough, but finding him, just as horrifically mangled if not worse... What a young boy did to deserve this put upon him, she couldn't comprehend. It made the days following the incident quieter, tensed - Not at Falco's expense, no. The poor child had gotten more attention from Cassandra than ever before.
He deserved it. Damned place, playing games with them, treating them like toys.
If he heads out, Cassandra is often not far behind, knowingly or not. It's an effort to keep tabs on everyone she knows, she'll tell herself. Making sure nobody's being sacked and dragged away. When it came to places Falco went, at least Honeybees was sure to be packed. Plenty of locals wandering about in case something happened.
In some way, that made it the worst spot of all.]
Hey, Falco. [She breaks from cover and strolls up the aisle to greet him with practiced nonchalance. The only thing keeping her from throwing fists these days.] Was wondering where you got off to.
no subject
but all chicks must fly off on their own one day, or at least start messing around with the branches for practice alone. falco knew his surrogate mother had her own time to spend and others she'd like to see— and hogging it all didn't seem or even was remotely fair just because he wanted to. he was aware enough to wean himself from her company and compel himself to bundle up, hide his face and go out to do something. so focused on actually doing that had kept him oblivious to followers, which brings him to his startled surprise when she catches at him staring at the wham-o bird box in his hands. he nearly jolts, actually, almost thinking it's another robbie clerk that wants to supervise him or something and talk about their OH BOY HOWDY DAY.
the washing relief is instant in his eyes when he realizes that wasn't their case, and if he could smile, he would. he could feel his lips tense as the remaining muscle tries to pull back and makes it all uncomfortable— but luckily, it's all hidden underneath his scarf. she doesn't have to see it. his greeting comes as a surprised hum at first and a tight mouthed: miss cassandra!
he's been refraining from talking, becoming more shy than she remembers meeting him. but for her, he makes a gallant effort. as he puts the box back on its shelf, he speaks, muffled under woolly fabric and tense lips: ]
I just wanted to look around. 've never been here, [ disjointed thoughts, a point at the shelf ] it's a cool bird, [ now he just looks stupidly happy and excited to see her, so much that his wording seems ditsy. ] what're you doing here?
no subject
Truly, it was an unfortunate fact that Cassandra could not always be around; her life didn't revolve around her fake husband, or fake son. Their little family was nothing more than a facade to showcase around the locals, keep them unawares while Cass hurried off to a job, or check in with Rapunzel... But the feelings. Those were real. And Cass couldn't help feel bad for Falco with each passing day. It makes the visible relief that washes over him the moment he spots her all the sweeter.]
Me? Oh. Running errands. Boring stuff. [A wave of her hand, dismissive. Not a strong lie, but it didn't have to be when it's technically the truth. She's glad to hear him speaking again, even if they couldn't do anything about the... beak.] Cool bird?
[Her eyes follow his pointed finger to the shelf with the "bird" perched on it.]
Huh. They sell fake birds here? This place must have everything.
no subject
It’s supposed to fly by itself. [ he gives the shelf one more admiring sort of look on his toes before he turns heel. he doesn’t even think about having it for himself with the wrong amount of change in his pocket. ] Neat, right? There’re more inventions than I can think of here.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
im so sorry for her
( Falco, congrats on drawing the attention of the worst librarian this town has ever seen. she takes the book from wherever he stashed it, perfectly arched brows lifting. a corset ripper, huh? not exactly a common sort of title in 1960s. he really must have scrubbed for that one.
she flips it over, scans the back lazily, and her nose wrinkles ever so slightly. probably just about all the sexual excitement the sad housewives around here get, but still gross. Carmilla glances to the little kid that had been messing with it. )
Aren't you a little young for middle aged white lady porn? And what was that sound?
KITTY HELPPPPPPPP
she says "porn", and the aforementioned alarm goes off again in warning: BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP. he starts speaking, but his voice is muffled and hushed once the alarm silences. at this point he's covering his face, and once his hands fall to his sides, he can't meet her gaze. ]
Nothing, miss, nothing— [ was it good or bad that she noticed the beeping was strange while their neighbors hadn't? he doesn't even know how to explain what it is beyond "it goes off with certain things". like now. ] I was just looking for romance.
[ he's more embarrassed with the fact that she thinks he's looking for ......... adult content ]
you asked for the monster i promise i will make you regret it
Sweetie, anything with the corset bursting on the cover is not about the 'romance'. ( she'll give him that one for free. this one seems to be about a pirate, she has to guess that's what the eye patch is about. she does seem to buy that he wasn't intentionally looking for porn, if only because he has to be like 10. )
Try Austen or Brontè. Those are classics. This is just gross. ( that said, she levels a serious look his way, eyes narrowed. ) What's the beeping? A radio? ( she is not going to be detracted, especially when the beeps have only gotten worse since the conversation started. is this little worm recording her somehow??? because she can and will wrestle with a child to break his recording device. )
i have never been more blessed in my life
. . . I don't know. [ he rolls his shoulder, a hand raising to cup the offending side. ] I think it's in my back.
that's not how you spell cursed
i don't make the rules
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)