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[ He sighs, and it echoes through the connection. ]
The both of them.
I allowed James to deal the blow. It turned to something of an argument. He had some [ there is a hiss of annoyance, more than he means to leak, ] mistaken ideas about my motivations, to which I took reasonable offense.
The both of them.
I allowed James to deal the blow. It turned to something of an argument. He had some [ there is a hiss of annoyance, more than he means to leak, ] mistaken ideas about my motivations, to which I took reasonable offense.
[The impenetrable mist and the slick tentacles water hauntingly familiar to the boy-- it was impossible to forget the dank shadows of the shopping complex last October, and despite himself Oscar shuddered with his nerves.]
It's That Thing again,
[And it has been nearly impossible to defeat last time. Oscar quietly pleaded for Diggs to hurry. ]
It's That Thing again,
[And it has been nearly impossible to defeat last time. Oscar quietly pleaded for Diggs to hurry. ]
Or its cousin, perhaps. It was not this big, the last time.
[ He turns slowly, and through his eyes Oscar will be able to see the occasional snap and flick of dark tentacles in the fog— before him, beside him, behind him. Far above his head. The thing or things are everywhere, and they are so vast it makes his skin crawl with the realization. Their shape and arrangement defies all logic.
The tentacles are seething forward like some kind of horrible sea creature, pulsing strangely as they crawl across the dry ground. Each leaves a slick of unpleasant dark fluid, and he remembers the— pus? slime? acid?— he'd cleaned from Oscar's wound and clothing in October. He'd been dazed with exhaustion and adrenaline even then. Somehow, facing this battle clear-headed does not make him feel any better. It only renders every detail in starker detail.
There is something comforting, though, about having another presence riding his mind, a second identity within him. It should not be comforting; he should reject the loss of their rare individuality. But it feels steadying, in a way. Natural.
It feels like he is not alone. ]
At least I know to look out for its bite.
[ They swarm for him again, and again he bats them back. But there are too many: one attached, lamprey-like, to the back of his thigh. Another curls around his ankle. Ozpin hisses and pours power into his blows: each hit flares green and inhumanly fast, but for every tentacle that goes writhing away from him, two more seem to slide out of the fog in its place. ]
[ He turns slowly, and through his eyes Oscar will be able to see the occasional snap and flick of dark tentacles in the fog— before him, beside him, behind him. Far above his head. The thing or things are everywhere, and they are so vast it makes his skin crawl with the realization. Their shape and arrangement defies all logic.
The tentacles are seething forward like some kind of horrible sea creature, pulsing strangely as they crawl across the dry ground. Each leaves a slick of unpleasant dark fluid, and he remembers the— pus? slime? acid?— he'd cleaned from Oscar's wound and clothing in October. He'd been dazed with exhaustion and adrenaline even then. Somehow, facing this battle clear-headed does not make him feel any better. It only renders every detail in starker detail.
There is something comforting, though, about having another presence riding his mind, a second identity within him. It should not be comforting; he should reject the loss of their rare individuality. But it feels steadying, in a way. Natural.
It feels like he is not alone. ]
At least I know to look out for its bite.
[ They swarm for him again, and again he bats them back. But there are too many: one attached, lamprey-like, to the back of his thigh. Another curls around his ankle. Ozpin hisses and pours power into his blows: each hit flares green and inhumanly fast, but for every tentacle that goes writhing away from him, two more seem to slide out of the fog in its place. ]
No. We simply talked.
[ Some of the annoyance falls out of him, though, and there is a pause. Softly: ]
I have told him the truth, Oscar. About the shape of the war. He is taking it as well as could be expected.
[ Some of the annoyance falls out of him, though, and there is a pause. Softly: ]
I have told him the truth, Oscar. About the shape of the war. He is taking it as well as could be expected.
[It was like the Hydra he had read about from the books in the library-- a beast with many heads, which doubled every time the were dismembered. Oscar grit his teeth and winced in sympathetic pain when the tiny jaws bit into Ozpin's thigh, feeling a mere reflection of what it was that Oz felt.
He wasn't running anymore.]
Please be careful! Diggs and Tipp... They'll be there soon!
He wasn't running anymore.]
Please be careful! Diggs and Tipp... They'll be there soon!
"If you can keep that particular streak going, that would be great. Try to keep that luck holding out, please."
His tone might be a little jokey, but he definitely means it. He'd rather Oscar not get himself killed here. His memories are already a convoluted mess- the last thing he needs is to start losing them, too. No- far better than Oscar doesn't experience that particular aspect of the town.
He does smile faintly. Because that's a really nice sentiment. Very fitting. This town takes a lot from them, but if they can keep hold of each other... well, they can weather the rest of it.
"Truer words have not been spoken," he can't his head. "...And hey, whoever the nail polish is for? You know they'd really luck out with you, Oscar. You're a great guy."
His tone might be a little jokey, but he definitely means it. He'd rather Oscar not get himself killed here. His memories are already a convoluted mess- the last thing he needs is to start losing them, too. No- far better than Oscar doesn't experience that particular aspect of the town.
He does smile faintly. Because that's a really nice sentiment. Very fitting. This town takes a lot from them, but if they can keep hold of each other... well, they can weather the rest of it.
"Truer words have not been spoken," he can't his head. "...And hey, whoever the nail polish is for? You know they'd really luck out with you, Oscar. You're a great guy."
[ He falls back more desperately upon magic. Ozpin lashes out with a crackle of green energy, and the tentacles recoil from the power. His leg stings in the aftermath, and he can feel the slide of thick slime down his calf, burning numb
They surge for him again, and this is clearly insufficient defense. The emerald orb of a shield springs up around him, and the toll of it takes his breath away; he sways with sudden dizziness, sudden strain.
He only has to last until his escape arrives. ]
I will hold as long as I'm able. Believe me, Oscar, I have no intention of—
[ He doesn't get to finish the sentiment. Tentacles are gathering around him, piling upon his shield in slick and dripping lines of black-green. He feels the power gutter like an unsteady flame, and that is all it takes: the tentacles constrict in an awful squelching grip. His shield gives, and Ozpin shouts and doles out a flurry of blows as the tentacles curl around his shoulders, his back, his arms, his shins. Each one writhes like a dying snake once cut, and drips lukewarm slick like congealed blood.
There are teeth sawing at his calf, his thigh, his hip. Ozpin twirls his cane and puts a flare of true power behind the next blow, grand enough that it strikes the ground with a CRACK and silhouettes him in emerald flame.
It only serves to light the thing in the mist. On all sides, he is surrounded by a wall of dark movement. There is no end to the tentacles. ]
They surge for him again, and this is clearly insufficient defense. The emerald orb of a shield springs up around him, and the toll of it takes his breath away; he sways with sudden dizziness, sudden strain.
He only has to last until his escape arrives. ]
I will hold as long as I'm able. Believe me, Oscar, I have no intention of—
[ He doesn't get to finish the sentiment. Tentacles are gathering around him, piling upon his shield in slick and dripping lines of black-green. He feels the power gutter like an unsteady flame, and that is all it takes: the tentacles constrict in an awful squelching grip. His shield gives, and Ozpin shouts and doles out a flurry of blows as the tentacles curl around his shoulders, his back, his arms, his shins. Each one writhes like a dying snake once cut, and drips lukewarm slick like congealed blood.
There are teeth sawing at his calf, his thigh, his hip. Ozpin twirls his cane and puts a flare of true power behind the next blow, grand enough that it strikes the ground with a CRACK and silhouettes him in emerald flame.
It only serves to light the thing in the mist. On all sides, he is surrounded by a wall of dark movement. There is no end to the tentacles. ]
You— ah.
[ Damn. That explains some degree of the response, too. Ozpin is so very tired of everything to do with James Ironwood. ]
He has taken it as a betrayal, which is... understandable. I do not begrudge him his anger. I am more concerned by his despair.
I do not know how James Ironwood responds to despair, except with increasingly drastic action. I will be keeping a close eye from here out, should he let me.
We are not out of the woods, so to speak. But it did not end in a fight.
[ Damn. That explains some degree of the response, too. Ozpin is so very tired of everything to do with James Ironwood. ]
He has taken it as a betrayal, which is... understandable. I do not begrudge him his anger. I am more concerned by his despair.
I do not know how James Ironwood responds to despair, except with increasingly drastic action. I will be keeping a close eye from here out, should he let me.
We are not out of the woods, so to speak. But it did not end in a fight.
That's good. Our conversation didn't end in a fight either.
[But, he was still worried. The pressure which he knew James was feeling was unenviable. However, he had no idea how to alleviate that. ]
... I think he wants to protect this place. After I told him what had happened, he said that he would do whatever it took to keep me from coming back home.
I don't know what he's thinking, but I believe we can rely on him for now.
[But, he was still worried. The pressure which he knew James was feeling was unenviable. However, he had no idea how to alleviate that. ]
... I think he wants to protect this place. After I told him what had happened, he said that he would do whatever it took to keep me from coming back home.
I don't know what he's thinking, but I believe we can rely on him for now.
[Panic.
That was the only emotion he processed as the information about Oz's surroundings flowed into his mind-- as easily as it had when he had recalled Lionheart's office for the first time, before he had even started the venture. Oscar thoughtlessly grabbed for the nearest crutch and stood in a flash... as if there was anything he could do to impact the situation.]
Oz...!!
[He didn't know what to say--
Yet in a flash he understood as a tiny ball of feathers emerged from the mist and dove for the tentacles ensnaring Oz's reed-like frame, gnashing and tearing at the appendages in a desperate attempt to free the man.]
That was the only emotion he processed as the information about Oz's surroundings flowed into his mind-- as easily as it had when he had recalled Lionheart's office for the first time, before he had even started the venture. Oscar thoughtlessly grabbed for the nearest crutch and stood in a flash... as if there was anything he could do to impact the situation.]
Oz...!!
[He didn't know what to say--
Yet in a flash he understood as a tiny ball of feathers emerged from the mist and dove for the tentacles ensnaring Oz's reed-like frame, gnashing and tearing at the appendages in a desperate attempt to free the man.]
cws even more tentacles and slime, violence against magic animals
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clocktowers
2021-05-11 04:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The owl rockets in like a ball of living sunlight. It is a welcome distraction, and Oz takes the opportunity to lash out with green fire again, snapping lines of bright energy at his attackers. The tentacles fall back and just as quickly surge for him again.
And then Tippetarius arrives. There is movement from beyond the dark wall of tentacles, and the elk comes careening through with an eerie bugle and a leap. Those glowing antlers stand out like a beacon, the torn-off tips of tentacles still caught in the tines, and Tippetarius lands with the precise sound of hooves on pavement. Relief hits him like something physical. ]
It will be alright. Stay where you are, Oscar. The Dream Guides are here.
[ Diggs crashes through tentacles like a feathery canonball, Tipp stamps his way closer, and Ozpin deals out green-flaring blows so quickly he moves as a blur. For one adrenaline-bright moment, he truly believes it: the price was not a fatal one. He has faced the danger and will come out of it unharmed. He is so close to his mount, to fleeing without any more damage than a bit of stinging slime. His Aura hasn't even broken.
He is so very close, when the tentacles close around one of Tipp's legs.
The elk rears, stamps, but that only puts him back in range of more tentacles. They blanket the ground like vines, now, or a pit of serpents: there is no seeing the pavement under their black slime. They curl around both his hindlegs, sliding slickly up his haunches, and the elk thrashes in his effort to be free of them. They drag him down to his knees. ]
Ah.
[ It echoes with the realization: he is not walking out of this fight.
Ozpin spins his cane again, slams out another flare of power, but he staggers with the aftermath of it. His vision is spotting black. This is more power than he can afford here, given Deerington's unreliable toll; he shall not be able to run under his own power, and there seems no hope of clearing the field. Everything is dark and slick with tentacles. Two more begin to curl up his leg to his thigh, and when he pivots to strike them, they only yank. He loses his footing in the slime.
He falls to kneel with a choked snarl, and the tentacles seethe forward to take him. They curl up his arms like fleshy ropes. One, thicker than his arm, begins to slide around his waist. He can feel the teeth of it digging against his Aura, which sparks a flimsy green. ]
Oscar— I—
[ The whole mass tightens, and his Aura breaks in a shower of green. Behind him, Tippetarius is making a horrible sound. There is hardly any golden fur to be seen beneath the crushing mass of tentacles. ]
And then Tippetarius arrives. There is movement from beyond the dark wall of tentacles, and the elk comes careening through with an eerie bugle and a leap. Those glowing antlers stand out like a beacon, the torn-off tips of tentacles still caught in the tines, and Tippetarius lands with the precise sound of hooves on pavement. Relief hits him like something physical. ]
It will be alright. Stay where you are, Oscar. The Dream Guides are here.
[ Diggs crashes through tentacles like a feathery canonball, Tipp stamps his way closer, and Ozpin deals out green-flaring blows so quickly he moves as a blur. For one adrenaline-bright moment, he truly believes it: the price was not a fatal one. He has faced the danger and will come out of it unharmed. He is so close to his mount, to fleeing without any more damage than a bit of stinging slime. His Aura hasn't even broken.
He is so very close, when the tentacles close around one of Tipp's legs.
The elk rears, stamps, but that only puts him back in range of more tentacles. They blanket the ground like vines, now, or a pit of serpents: there is no seeing the pavement under their black slime. They curl around both his hindlegs, sliding slickly up his haunches, and the elk thrashes in his effort to be free of them. They drag him down to his knees. ]
Ah.
[ It echoes with the realization: he is not walking out of this fight.
Ozpin spins his cane again, slams out another flare of power, but he staggers with the aftermath of it. His vision is spotting black. This is more power than he can afford here, given Deerington's unreliable toll; he shall not be able to run under his own power, and there seems no hope of clearing the field. Everything is dark and slick with tentacles. Two more begin to curl up his leg to his thigh, and when he pivots to strike them, they only yank. He loses his footing in the slime.
He falls to kneel with a choked snarl, and the tentacles seethe forward to take him. They curl up his arms like fleshy ropes. One, thicker than his arm, begins to slide around his waist. He can feel the teeth of it digging against his Aura, which sparks a flimsy green. ]
Oscar— I—
[ The whole mass tightens, and his Aura breaks in a shower of green. Behind him, Tippetarius is making a horrible sound. There is hardly any golden fur to be seen beneath the crushing mass of tentacles. ]
[ He is silent a moment, thinking in a jumble of low, simmering concern. ]
That is good news. I have said it before, but I do believe James Ironwood to be a good man... or at least, a well-intentioned one. We do not want an enemy of him.
All of us, I believe, would like to avoid an end such as we had on Remnant.
That is good news. I have said it before, but I do believe James Ironwood to be a good man... or at least, a well-intentioned one. We do not want an enemy of him.
All of us, I believe, would like to avoid an end such as we had on Remnant.
[Not even Diggs, with his smaller size and greater agility, was able to wing itself free once the tentacles ensnared it's tiny, sharpened claws. The little bird emitted a strangled outcry that sounded a touch too human for a creature so small--
Oscar felt his throat tighten and his breath catch in his chest from his position as witness.
All he could do was watch and relay the message.]
Ozpin!
[He called quickly through their mindlink, frantic to do something to help but knowing full well that there were no options for him to use.]
I'll take care of your eggs. I'll make sure everyone hears your message. Please, please just come back!
Oscar felt his throat tighten and his breath catch in his chest from his position as witness.
All he could do was watch and relay the message.]
Ozpin!
[He called quickly through their mindlink, frantic to do something to help but knowing full well that there were no options for him to use.]
I'll take care of your eggs. I'll make sure everyone hears your message. Please, please just come back!
I want to believe that we can. I'm not ready to give up on that hope.
[It was a sentiment that had been running through his thoughts as an undercurrent for weeks-- only recently had he felt comfortable speaking it.]
... you know, we can't let him go back to Atlas. There's no telling what will happen if he does.
[It was a sentiment that had been running through his thoughts as an undercurrent for weeks-- only recently had he felt comfortable speaking it.]
... you know, we can't let him go back to Atlas. There's no telling what will happen if he does.
cws for animal death, slime, hand trauma, eaten alive, wizard death
clocktowers
2021-05-11 10:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Tippetarius is nothing now but a glinting rack of antlers and the sounds of an animal in pain: the rest of his body is entirely wrapped in sliding tentacles. From the moment Diggs is ensnared, they pull him down to the ground, and then there are three figures held against the writhing horror on the pavement. The little owl is being slowly ripped apart.
With his Aura down, there is nothing to protect Ozpin from the teeth. The numb burn of the slime sets into his legs and arms and middle: Ozpin snarls out a choked sound. He tries to struggle upright, but the thing only tightens about his arms and legs, seeping wet slime into his clothing. He can get no further than hands and knees.
He tries, at least, to keep hold of the Long Memory. It is no use. The tentacles tighten around his hands until those slim bones crack, and finally he breaks: Ozpin bucks like a tortured animal, trying to writhe away, which only puts his face within range—
The tentacles catch upon his crown and pin him to the ground by each slender antler. One shatters with a sudden, wet lurch of alien muscle. He can feel Oscar's panic redoubling on his own, and Ozpin tries, desperately, to steady his mental voice. He can't. ]
I will. I, I promise. Oscar, please— [ Something is curling wetly across his face. He is still held down by his ruined hands. The words cuts out to blind panic, and he shutters the connection like a slammed door— then wrenches it open again in fits and gasps. ]
I'm sorry.
[ A blunt tentacle-tip probes at his ear; another slides beneath the scarf protecting his throat; something is beginning to eat the flesh at his calf and hip. Ozpin can bear no more. He tries to lock down the connection. He tries not to let Oscar see.
It goes on a long time.
Eventually, it ends. ]
With his Aura down, there is nothing to protect Ozpin from the teeth. The numb burn of the slime sets into his legs and arms and middle: Ozpin snarls out a choked sound. He tries to struggle upright, but the thing only tightens about his arms and legs, seeping wet slime into his clothing. He can get no further than hands and knees.
He tries, at least, to keep hold of the Long Memory. It is no use. The tentacles tighten around his hands until those slim bones crack, and finally he breaks: Ozpin bucks like a tortured animal, trying to writhe away, which only puts his face within range—
The tentacles catch upon his crown and pin him to the ground by each slender antler. One shatters with a sudden, wet lurch of alien muscle. He can feel Oscar's panic redoubling on his own, and Ozpin tries, desperately, to steady his mental voice. He can't. ]
I will. I, I promise. Oscar, please— [ Something is curling wetly across his face. He is still held down by his ruined hands. The words cuts out to blind panic, and he shutters the connection like a slammed door— then wrenches it open again in fits and gasps. ]
I'm sorry.
[ A blunt tentacle-tip probes at his ear; another slides beneath the scarf protecting his throat; something is beginning to eat the flesh at his calf and hip. Ozpin can bear no more. He tries to lock down the connection. He tries not to let Oscar see.
It goes on a long time.
Eventually, it ends. ]
At least, Ten had his fit. His breakdown. He loves his face. This face. There's a loud exhale. In a worn voice, "I'm tired of changing. I thought I could use my last two regenerations like this." Ten thumbs through Oscar's hair. It is a great comfort to have company that can get it.
I do not know that we have control over that. But should we find a way... Well. It is one more thing we may hope for, to change his future.
"...You think so?"
Oscar asked-- a tad shy for a moment. He briefly cast a glance down at the glossy dark blue nails, a fond smile playing on his lips as he thought on who that color was for.
"I haven't known them long, and our situations could make it awkward... But I've come to cherish the conversations we have, like I've enjoyed our's.
"...Saying it is going to be the hard part. That's all."
Oscar asked-- a tad shy for a moment. He briefly cast a glance down at the glossy dark blue nails, a fond smile playing on his lips as he thought on who that color was for.
"I haven't known them long, and our situations could make it awkward... But I've come to cherish the conversations we have, like I've enjoyed our's.
"...Saying it is going to be the hard part. That's all."
"I do think so, yeah."
He might not share Oscar's specific feelings towards him, but he still thinks Oscar is an incredible person. One of the most incredible people he's ever met, in all honesty.
"I think your situation is always gonna be... a thing, but you might be surprised. I guess you'll never know unless you take that step... and I get it's scary, believe me, I do."
It took him the better part of half a year to finally talk to Fern about his feelings, after all.
"But it's gotta be better than hanging onto them yourself, right?"
He might not share Oscar's specific feelings towards him, but he still thinks Oscar is an incredible person. One of the most incredible people he's ever met, in all honesty.
"I think your situation is always gonna be... a thing, but you might be surprised. I guess you'll never know unless you take that step... and I get it's scary, believe me, I do."
It took him the better part of half a year to finally talk to Fern about his feelings, after all.
"But it's gotta be better than hanging onto them yourself, right?"
Hanging onto them himself meant suffering in silence. It meant doing crazy things without expectation of recognition or even a 'thank you', but it also meant bearing those burdens alone If Oscar had learned anything from this, it was that doing things alone never got him anywhere good.
He smiled shyly and rubbed at the blue paint on his nails with his fingertips in a fidgety gesture-- but, he was quietly pleased, too.
"Right,"
He said, finally.
"I'll try to find a way to tell them. And... I hope it works."
He smiled shyly and rubbed at the blue paint on his nails with his fingertips in a fidgety gesture-- but, he was quietly pleased, too.
"Right,"
He said, finally.
"I'll try to find a way to tell them. And... I hope it works."
Varian knew only too well where trying to deal with things alone led. It's a bad habit he still slips into, from time to time, but he's trying to wean himself out of it. To learn to rely on other people and understand he's not dragging them down in doing so.
"I'm sure you'll do fine," he smiles. "And if they break your heart, I can absolutely lightly poison them. Only lightly."
"I'm sure you'll do fine," he smiles. "And if they break your heart, I can absolutely lightly poison them. Only lightly."
[It's around noon, maybe, when Oscar gets this text. Simple, yet ominous.]
Oscar we need to talk. ASAP. Call me.
Oscar we need to talk. ASAP. Call me.
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