logsville | 羽根を焦がす無数の鳥が (open!)

Entry tags:

羽根を焦がす無数の鳥が (open!)

Who: falco grice & you!
When: march & april!
Where: gestures
What: post-surgical trauma, regains, flying (and crashing), snooping, and just general prompts to keep busy with during our pause! i’ll be adding more investigation oriented prompts later as well! absolutely free to tag in super late or backtag forever until may! hmu at

liberos if you’d like to plot something specific and i’d adore to write a fresh starter for us!
Warnings: body horror, traumatic surgical descriptions, torture, aot spoilers, mentions of war imagery, will update as things happen!

top levels in the comments!

🐤 MARCH 1 - 4: general prompts with falco still carrying the worst of his living island mutilation; locations include library, diners, groceries or honeybees!
🐤 MARCH 5: open to housemates, neighbors or passerbys; falco gets his jaw implants removed and seems pretty normal. maybe just a little tense about the how.
🐤 MARCH 6: open for sightings or interactions! falco uses his titan form to survey the city and check his limits.
🐤 MARCH 10 - FORWARD: includes prompts for spring cleaning and topsy turvy, as seen on the tdm!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ falco still has his mandibulectomy implant during these dates, tending to more populated and busy areas with a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face despite the spring weather settling in. general locations that one can find him in during said dates:

🐤 the library: catch him constantly picking up pre-teen romance novels or recently start studying american sign language. he puts some practice in what he’s reading where asl is involved, and if eye contact is made, he’ll definitely try and communicate.

🐤 blue moon diner: he oddly doesn't get anything to eat, settling with drinks that have straws to poke beneath his scarf. since no one really notices, eventually, characters can catch him removing the fabric to finally get a bite of what fries and milkshakes taste like. he might watch a young couple drink one together and sigh wistfully while looking at the creamy glass in front of him. accidentally, his jaws may completely unhinge from a slip up in adjusting the joints for chewing, spilling his drink in the rush or making a mess out of what was on the table and in his mouth. while he scrambles to snap it back together, townies won't even bat a lash. some even set off a bubbly laugh and joke "OH ! ALMOST HAD AN ACCIDENT, DIDN'T YA', BUDDY? IT'S ALRIGHT !" they even give falco's hair a friendly ruffle, but the boy looks stiff as a board and visibly uncomfortable. he just can't bring himself to push them away or disapprove of the behavior— they might not even want to be that way.

🐤 greene's groceries or honeybees: falco browses the assortment of toys on occasion, but usually just uses these stores to look around, pass the time, think or observe. his sensor will go off if he's within hearing range of a curse, smoking, or if he happens to be holding something meant for adults. most of those times, he winces and tries to get away from the possible offender to make the annoying danger beeps cease as quickly as possible, and almost all of the time he'll be trying to fast walk away with a beet red face in fear of people thinking he was doing something perverse— he wasn't, and his innocent curiosity in looking at well drawn artistic covers (with some nudity) or flipping through movie posters (some rated r) wouldn't help him there. ]

ғᴏʀ ʜᴏᴜsᴇᴍᴀᴛᴇs, ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏʀs & ᴘᴀssᴇʀʙʏs ᴏғ 323 ᴍɪᴅᴡɪᴄʜ sᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ

[ falco only returns from helping levi "clean his house" early morning at the end of the day. it doesn't really take that long to clean a house and possibly took a detour? he comes in without his scarf and a jarring difference in that his jaw is no longer mutilated. no scar, no exposed implants or metal bolts, no bruise or pinch to show for. it's pristine and as normal as it used to be. he'll stop in his movement the second eyes are on him, whether he's turned to walk into the kitchen for a snack, scale the stairs to his room, going out to grab the daily newspaper or take out the trash (levi's house first, which has— a lot, suspiciously, and he's trying to share the load and make sure there isn't too much for either houses), exchanging a careful glance and knowing that there might be questions! he just isn't sure of the reaction. since, you know. if you catch him hauling trash, he looks a little tense about you getting close to it.

]

ᴡᴀʀᴋ

[ by the evening of march 6th, a storm seems to be brewing ahead; far into santa rosita's woodland area rumbles the strike of lightning, but if one were to look— no clouds. it's a clear afternoon soon to be ebbing into dusk, and surely you'll be able to count all the stars in the sky. what you might not have been counting on hearing were massive, rhythmic claps above and overhead. it blocks out the remaining sunset (or moon, depending on the time) and doesn't make a sounding cry beyond its wings that jarred like thunder with each beat. it's a golden-white bird that could've been larger than it was, a scary thought, at eight feet with a wingspan twice its height. winds brew and clatter phone lines, wood groans with protest or even hats get caught in the miniature gusts made from its survey. oh, what a lovely bird! neighbors might say if you ask, as if talking about a backyard finch. naturally, they don't notice a thing out of the ordinary (and probably don't want to).

after the sixth, the bird will only occasionally and rarely soar at roughly the same time, but it isn't impossible. try and flag it down, follow, or scream. it might react more than you think. ]

Edited 2021-03-21 11:52 (UTC)

sᴘʀɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ

[ let's all be brutally honest: the robbies are creepy and even if some of the neighbors aren't as over the top with their fake smiles and artificial good moods, they're unsettling to be around when they decide to "help out". usually when a child comes with hose ablazin' just in time to water down otherworldlers in front of their houses, falco sees it on his walk— and comes running to snatch the hose back, or insist an adult robbie that he's old enough to take mowing the lawn from here, or trim the hedges. ]

I-I got it! Thanks for the help!

[ anything to help people keep them away from the houses, at least . . . children might wilt with their shoulders but grin either way with an "AW . . . OKAY!", and adults will stare for an unnerving amount of time, features unchanging, before they give him a good pat on the head and tell you "YOU'VE GOT A LITTLE MAN ON YOUR HANDS, DON'T YA NEIGHBOR? KEEP UP THE GREAT WORK, PALCO! AH HA HA !"

'palco'....... was definitely a first. ]

ᴛᴏᴘsʏ-ᴛᴜʀᴠᴇʏ — ʜᴏᴜsᴇ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

[ and then the doors went wild. at any given time of the day, falco might get into his home from his day of school and come out the other end in your home. in the bathroom, in the closet, in the kitchen— anywhere with a door at any time was a possible mishap and most (if not all) times, the boy stands there with a comic book in hand and a loli in his mouth. erm— ]

I was just . . .

[ worse was when you probably come into his home uninvited. he doesn't mind as long as you don't look ready to attack or something, but— the furniture of his room is all on the ceiling. everything is on the cieling, bed and comics included. walking down the stairs or entering through the front door will show that furniture is on the right floor, but turned on its head while kitchen appliances are hanging from the ceiling. funnily, knives have their points downwards. ]

I think I need to get those.

[ he doesn't want anyone getting stabbed. ]

ᴛᴏᴘsʏ-ᴛᴜʀᴠᴇʏ — sᴄᴏᴏʙʏ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

[ all is quiet in the middle of the night. chirping crickets and all, people should be asleep and as peaceful as empty streets can be (correction: empty streets in the dark are disturbing). apparitions at random have been plaguing the houses and even outside. the first few times something grabs falco in his sleep or he wakes up to someone standing in the corner of his room, he screams loud and short enough to wake the entire house, if he must.

outside is a little different, and the more his heart stays accelerated just waiting for something to pop in or come for him, the more he purposefully expects and waits for it. it doesn't stop his snooping around town for information and more leads, but it does make the searching some ways more difficult. ferthurs, doppelgangers and zombies (put in the header which you'd like) are bound to ripple into reality whether characters are at school, at the groceries or in places they aren't supposed to be at night (woods, near the tunnel and the middle school, respectively; if you have any more ideas, feel free to use them!). you might catch falco making a run for it, or, you might see something a little more aggressive snapping back at the attackers. ]

Edited 2021-03-19 18:32 (UTC)

( Santa Rosita has this uncanny habit of things looking Grim when something is about to go down. Peter has become more aware of it, when the quiet seems oppressive. overwhelming. like somebody's watching and waiting and expecting the worse.

he's keeping his head down and trying to walk fast, get back home after a shift and hopefully shut the door on whatever weirdness is about to go down. he might be moving fast, but he's not all out running... his spider senses warn that somebody else is coming around the corner, and fast, so Peter pauses to not get hit by whoever (whatever?) it is.

Falco would probably run right past him if Peter didn't recognize him. ) Whoa, hey — where are you off to? You okay? ( he can't help it, he's a little worried. it was weird enough to be walking through quiet streets just waiting for things to go bad, but it's uniquely more alarming to be in that same precipice with a little kid that's already been through hell. )

[ falco nearly does zip right past him, and suddenly seeing the mystery figure once he turned the corner gets him to jolt and nearly yell once spooked— it’s peter. he recognizes peter just as he throws his legs sideways to keep running, needing to backpedal some three or so spaces to grab the older boy by the wrist and bolt to make another run for it. ]

Peter! They’ll eat us! [ there’s some uncomfortable sense of familiarity in his voice despite never seeing a zombie, and that’s because he has seen a pure titan. he can at the very least flee from these, unlike the giants that can reach you in one step. they’re coming, too— a pack of children moaning and shambling at mach speed with outstretched hand and ugly, blood stained mouths. ]

[it's towards the end of the month archer sees the bird again, swooping low near where he's in the back garden attempting to teach his dog how to go for the crotch of a possible home invader. so far he's managed to get it to drop the new bone he got - progrerss? kind of. not really.

then a huge shadow falls over them. maybe the bird itself isn't all that big, but... you know. shadows.

he sits back and takes a long drink of his mimosa, watching it slowly circle closer with an irritated squint. dog (still haven't decided on a name, though bandit and hooper are up there) looks up and starts barking, clearly alarmed. guess that confirms it's real, at least.

he pulls his handgun down when he sees it getting lower - disguised drone, maybe? town dragon? - and fires.

get fucked, bird.]

[ Monika was working a part-time job here, but that wasn't the reason for her presence in the library today. She'd just talked to a child on the network, and she'd promised to find him a good read with romance and a bit of adventure. But she wasn't too sure on what book to pick... It had to be something short and fairly simple to understand for a child. A short novel or perhaps even a comic, though hopefully she'd find the former.

So of course, she's in the romance sections, looking for an appropriate read. Unfortunately, she didn't know what the child actually looked like, seeing how she'd only talked to him through text. So when she passes by Falco? She assumes he's just one of their "neighbours." Just a NPC.

Even then, out of habit she's still cordial with them. So she gives a bright smile to the kid, stopping for a second. ]

Hello there!

[ the small pop of a pistol down below would’ve barely been heard thanks to the roar of winds by his ears, and perhaps not even the pain would’ve stopped falco from gliding (titans don’t feel pain when it’s not inflicted on their true bodies)— his arm reacts oddly when he bends his wings into another clap to climb away from the houses, though— it refuses to bend the way he needs it to. a look sideways easily catches a hole that stains golden feathers red, the inside joint of the ulna and digits fissure and cracks with force of his attempted beat. it doesn’t hurt, but he’s far smaller than he’s used to: larger than shaquille o’neal by a foot and more prone to external damage, unlike the massive five meters that would hardly feel the dent.

the bird barks, and begins to descend while holding a glide that would have to do for an emergency landing like a plane shutting off its motors and piloting on luck, skill and the wind. it looks like he’s eying archer’s backyard to make the final touch down, especially with how low he was, sticking out feathered legs and taloned feet—

only non-neighbors would realize something odd enough to shoot at it, and all he knows about that particular house is the dog he hears barking. ]

[nice. that shot was kind of a rough one, but he did it! man, archer is amazing. he watches the bird wobble in the air and struggle, though he's slightly confused by the fact it didn't seem to really notice the shot at first. can they brainwash birds, now? they can't. right? they can't.

he's been in and seen enough plane crashes to realise what's happening and how its gliding to a stop rather than just shrieking and dropping out the sky like he'd expected and-- jesus. archer's eye sight must be getting pretty shitty because that thing is way bigger than he expected and--

oh. shit. fuck. it's clearly aiming for the yard he's currently in. fuck!

archer would shoot again, but he's distracted getting his dog back inside. that bird could definitely eat... whatever the dog's name is.]

( he's had a few warnings leveled in his direction, but, none so as uncomfortable as they'll eat us. Peter doesn't run immediately, following Falco in a concerned canter, but since his legs are nearly the same size as Falco, he can get away with it. ) What is gonna eat —

( he doesn't finish that thought, because wow, that's terrifying, and why is it so much worse that they're kids?????

he does run then, though, slightly stalled to not run faster than Falco is. it feels like how fast Falco can run is not actually fast enough. Peter glances desperately for a distraction, or an alternative, or anything, but quickly decides none of those are available and keeping secrets is not worth either of them dying right now. ) Look, I need you to get on my back. Like piggyback. And then you need to hold on. I can get us out of here.

( because unless these tykes are World War Z variety, it seems like street level is not the place to be right now... and it turns out Peter can fix that pretty easily, without trying to break into any of the seemingly vacant, closed storefronts. )

[The robbies are creepy! What with their dissonant serenity, even casual conversations sometimes took a turn for the worrying. Cassandra had lost count of the times they'd unnerved her, leading to times she's outright ignored them, for safety reasons.

The downside is apparent: a robbie attempting to mow their front lawn, which Cassandra only notices once she spots Falco through a window, deep in a conversation with a robbie trying to mow their lawn.

Within the space of time it takes her to hurry out the front door, Cass finds that Falco has already defused the situation, left to tend to a clunky, gas-powered lawnmower.]

Everything alright out here?

[The calmness in Cassandra's voice was tempered, her worry honest. Eyes scanning for the robbie if they were still around.]

[ a coincidence that only fate could've written out . . . falco had yet to realize he was being greeted by the woman he had talked to earlier. his eyes show a smile in turn, even with his mouth obscured by the scarf, and continues to search for a match on the slip of paper he keeps looking down at, then back to the shelves. eventually, he sighs through his nose and keeps his glance down, before deciding to reach out for the woman's help. he tugs gently at her sleeve to get her attention, then hands her the slip with the name: Austen.

the boy pauses and points to the books on the shelf, then back to the slip to clarify with a tap. he's looking for an author named austen. ]

[ low enough to aim well, the bird's descent switches to a forward throw of feet to reach for the ground, a flare of tail feathers with grand flaps of its wings to halt its speed into a hover. each flap brings gusts, woosh, woosh, woosh until touchdown is made and its flaws, hidden at the middle-edge of the limbs could hit the ground for balance. dragon was not a far away suspicious when he looks like a feathered wyvern from up close, but it has rounded human ears and a mass of blond hair that meshed with the rest of its golden plumage. the wound shot into it seethes with steam and coughs out the bullet lodged between bone fragments, and quickly begins to seal shut. the evidence of blood, too, evaporates.

all while it begins to bat walk, slowly, toward the house's point of bustling. ]

Well, that's definitely not real. [stupid dog was probably barking at a fox, or something. it's too much like some of the bigger aliens in his, uh, space-themed coma dream. he flips his gun around so he's holding the barrel then

smacks himself on the side of the head with the butt of it.

hard enough that he flops back into the chair, briefly blacked out.

he just hit the snooze button. it's fine.]

[ peter isn't running along with him, isn't running fast enough and he could feel the weight his legs couldn't carry this way. i need something, he thinks, and the boy quickly scans the street floors for something shiny, metal, it usually meant sharp but santa rosita's streets were almost perfectly spotless. his pockets? did he have anything in his pockets? only a pen and a bouncy ball at this point and he really needed to change that, opting for grabbing the pen and thinking if he smashed the tip hard enough into his palm he could penetrate skin—

he looks as dangerous as a school boy could get holding a fountain pen like a knife, about ready to hurt himself and let go of peter if it meant toget them out of here (without being seen? hard). luckily, the older boy is the one to bring aid to the table first, and it takes little time for falco to trust him on that. ]

—Ok.

[ he doesn't question certainty; falco pockets his pen and scrambles for peter's back like he would on colt's. ]

[ Monika had turned around to go on her way, when the boy tugged at her sleeve and handed her the slip. Couldn't he talk...? ]

Austen? Jane Austen?

[ That was weird... No talking and asking for an actual decent author? That wasn't like the usual Robbies she had to deal with at all. They would usually talk in their boring voice and then ask for the trashiest, worst of all authors. Someone asking for actual literature was a breath of fresh air, even if it was a kid. He had to be one of them, right?

She smiled down at him. ]

I know where they are, follow me.

Ah—

[ the robbie is still in hearing range, waving a hand over to cassandra and delightfully expressing their joy in seeing one of their neighbors in time for spring. maybe the smiths should come over for supper? oh, wait! they have a cake that should be coming out soon! but to defuse that, falco calls out in turn: ]

Yes, Mom! They just wanted to help us with the lawn! Thoughtful, right? But I've got it!

[ unlike a robbified child, falco fakes his brief smile for only a few seconds until his back is turned to their neighbor. if one were to be honest, he's actually pretty good at blending in. ah, but then . . . came the other problem. he's never seen or touched a lawnmower in his life, yet. ]

—I'd like your supervision, please!

[ —oh, dear, had the bird-thing briefly reached out in a way grimly similar to a person wanting to stop him? maybe it was all in archer's head, anyway. now that he's out like a light, it's about time falco got out of his feathery meat suit.

not that he'll see how that actually happens. depending on the amount of time that archer is out, the remains of bone, muscle and feather are evaporating enough that neighbors might bother him later about the barbecue he had (and fireworks! pop!). falco, once out and on his human boy legs, unloads the discarded gun, slips it into its proper waist holster, annnnnnd . . . well, now it's time to tend to mister archer, starting with the ugly bruise on his temple.

luckily, he knows field first aid, and has a ready supply of gauze and ointment to start at his head. head trauma can be serious. ]

[ at least her kindness seems genuine enough that he too, would smile back if he wasn't covering it up with his scarf. feeling confident enough to say something short and sweet, his throat rumbles up the voice to do so with a quiet, muffled and weirdly pronounced: ]

Thank you, Miss.

[ all as he follows behind her. ]

[he's out long enough for falco to strip the world's worst fursuit and start poking around, during which he immediately snaps to and makes a good effort to try and grab falco when he's near, but completely misses and ends up flopping out the chair onto the patio instead.]

Gravity... you utter whore. [muttered, quietly. maybe it won't set off falco's alarm. he rolls over, frowning as three young blondes become one.] Why are you here?

[ falco promptly scrambles to grab for archer before he makes his head worse— and somewhere there, their reaching mismatches. the boy rushes to his side, on his knees and is careful with his head (there was a little patch there-!), and, congrats! with all the hustle-bustle, neither his ears nor his alarm pick up on the slur. ]

Be careful, Mister Archer. [ ah, and, ] You hit your head.

Whatever, [he says, waving falco off. he'll go to the hospital later, maybe. archer's still deciding how much of a shit he gives about his self-induced concussion. hey, it worked, though! no big bird!] so you jumped my fence? Who's your parent, I'm definitely complaining.

Ehe, you're welcome. [She did notice the voice, but... Probably just a cold or something, right?] Here we are!

[ Upon arriving, she looked at the books at their disposal and took one of them. Ah, Persuasion, doubtlessly her favorite from this author. But she figured the child was probably after Pride and Prejudice, seeing how it is Austen's most famous work. Is it wise though? Learning about Mr Darcy at such a young age, that's setting yourself up for severe disappointment upon realizing there are literally no men like him in the real world.

Regardless, she picked it up too and then turned back to Falco. ]

Which one did you want? Or are you just discovering this author?

( it's a little painful, to have a little kid climb you in a panic, but he's definitely had worse. and his own panic it doesn't even hurt as much as it could. Falco is only about half about his shoulders before Peter has to start running, because otherwise the snarling grey children will catch up.

he readjusts short arms around his shoulders and repeats, ) Hold on. ( he doesn't really have much in the way of super strength anymore, and besides, his arms are going to be preoccupied. Falco will have to keep himself from falling during this daring escape.

which Peter does not have time to explain before it happens, jumping headfirst at a wall must seem like a pretty dumb escape maneuver at first. he scrambles a little bit to properly wall crawl upwards, and one of the creepy zombie kids tears off his shoe in attempt to grab his leg and drag them back down. honestly Peter is just grateful it takes his shoe and he doesn't have to kick an undead child to get away.

but as they crawl higher, the zombie children clutter at the foundation and claw uselessly at air, snarling and shouting but too far away to be much of a threat anymore. that said, by the time he gets to the top of the building, Peter is extremely missing his super strength. it's hard enough to haul himself around with his sticky fingers these days — adding even someone Falco's size was shockingly exhausting. Peter clings to the edge of the building, nodding his head in the direction of the relative safety of a rooftop. ) Can you climb over? ( that seems easier than trying to haul both of them over the edge. )

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 3

羽根を焦がす無数の鳥が (open!)

MARCH 1 - 4 (CW: MUTILATION)

MARCH 5TH

MARCH 6TH ONWARD

MARCH 10TH ONWARD

SCOOBY EDITION - LETS DO SOME ZOMBIES

no subject

no subject

Library - March 4th

no subject

no subject

no subject

Spring Cleaning

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