[network] @crescent; to die historic on the furry road [open]

[lancingintherain]

[usually, the worst thing about waking up is remembering how hungry she is. But this morning, as Day 45 breaks cold and overcast as usual, the worst thing about waking up is remembering that last night, her friend got literally eaten by a monster.

She has to warn people. She couldn't save Mami, but maybe she can help others. So once she's mostly talked herself down from numb grief and fear, she turns on her tablet's video function. At first, it's aiming at a wooden tabletop, but she tilts it to show a drawing. For having been drawn last night in the dark in the hazy, panicky aftermath of mortal peril, it's pretty decent:



She clears her throat and starts to speak, her voice low and breaking despite her efforts to keep it steady.]

Four days ago, I was traveling with Alphonse Elric's group. We were attacked by this monster here. [a gray-furred, four-fingered hand moves into the video to tap at the top left of the picture with one sharp claw.] It was... well, if you've seen Alphonse, you know how tall he is. This one was taller. It had... light, instead of skin. Like what we see on the videos, sometimes. I'm not explaining it quite right, but... we got away.

[she swallows, then takes a shaky breath and points to the drawing on the right.]

Mami Tomoe and I—she's a young human girl; some of you have met her—we were on our own, yesterday. This monster attacked us last night. We—I tried to...

[she breaks off, planting her hand flat on the table to stop it from shaking. When she speaks again, her voice is hard.]

...It swallowed her. It ate her whole. That's what they do. Now we know.

[she points to the bottom drawing.]

It said things to me, before it—before it ate her. Spoke right into my head. "I want it"; "I am here"; I wrote down what I could remember. And there's something else. All of the other monsters I've seen have looked, well, they've looked human, or something like it. But this one... oh, it's easiest to just show it.

[the video swings dizzyingly as she picks up the tablet, and she taps on the screen to turn the camera. At once, the view of the tabletop and wall becomes a view of her very inhuman face, framed by her pale, tangled hair and large ears. Her eyes are tired, and her muzzle is streaked with dark, dried blood.]

...It looked like me. Like one of my people. But it... it ran on all fours, like an animal. ...I don't know what any of it means. But one thing's the same—and if anyone who's just arrived is watching this, you'd better listen. [her voice turns cold, and she looks straight into the camera.] If you see a monster, you run, got it? You run away as fast as you can, and get inside, and block the door. There's no fighting them. No fighting them at all.

[OOC: HOT GOLLY DAMN, there are enough threads here to feed a whole village of cute, thread-starved orphans. I'm capping the number of threads where it is. No more replies please, you beautiful people.]

Comments

[bookofnope]

[Good - now it's both of them being stubbornly analytical together. This is what Beckett knows, and he will stick to it come hell or high snow, because that is the only way for survival to have meaning. Unlife has taught him that lesson mightily well, and it's a handy one.]

But is it that they would not help us further, or is it that they cannot? Cruelty for its own sake - [He pauses here, because he knows fantastically well just how many uses torture has. But then it's always that, uses.]

We assume that someone is tormenting us. We could be wrong. Someone could be helping us to the little extent they're able to do so.

[This could simply be the world, he keeps thinking.]

[silverfuller]

'Tis a terrible feeling...

[He's lost knights before and it hurt every time.]

But as warriors we need to pick ourselves up when we can and press on.... to avenge the fallen and protect those still with us.

[Easier said than done. He can't help but think about the Warrior of Light, whom he had died protecting. If that spear had hit its intended mark...Haurchefant wonders if he could have pulled through that. He doubts it.

He sighs a worried sigh.]

But listen to me prattle on. If you are a seasoned warrior then my words must seem little more than empty platitudes! I controlled a garrison in my world and my soldiers were at times...

[He abruptly stops himself. Is he about to launch into another long speech? Oh dear, he is, isn't he? There's silence as he tries to pull his mind out of the clouds and back into his head.]

I am sorry, miss.

[heroproceeding]

[ Everything Freya mentions... Nothing seems amiss. There's nothing he hasn't heard of before. The beacons... the madness that one night... the injections... and that storm. The hospital, he's heard about from Al... Talked possessions with him. But... although there's fear in her voice, there's also certainty about all this. If something bad had happened... Something they're considering... certainly, she would have been more reluctant to talk about it, right? Unless she's got a pretty good poker face...

Kunsel seems to be satisfied with what she has to say, too. Especially when he starts laying down the real talk. Zack ignores the look he gets. He understands why he's getting it, but this is Freya- his friend. Even if... he never expected to ever befriend a giant rat. At this point though... Well. There's a first for everything? ...So, he can't help but still stare at his tablet incredulously as Kunsel talks to her. But he's listening. Definitely listening. This is important.

And then shortly after Kunsel's finished talking, he tacks on: ] So, you're sure you're okay? They didn't do anything to you at the hospital? [ There's that edge to his voice again. He knows things had gotten really out of hand over there. And while Al had shared some details, he hadn't mentioned Freya's involvement... ]

[lancingintherain]

[when he smiles, she keeps staring for another moment, then swivels her ears forwards like little satellite dishes: a sort-of smile in return, just not with her face. She's not ready to smile with her face yet.]

I... all right. I'm glad that... that you understand.

[of course, he would, though, wouldn't he, looking just as inhuman as she does in a place like this. Suddenly self-conscious of what she must look like in contrast to his carefully-arranged appearance, she roughly brushes some hair out of her face. It falls right back.]

...Um. You asked about my people. We're called Burmecian, after our kingdom. I'm from a planet called Gaia.

...I don't know what my galaxy is called. Or if it even has a name. ...I'm sorry.

[rubikscomplex]

And no one... was into visit him. [House closes his eyes again.] Had a headcase in once - schizophrenia - her 15-year-old kid was taking care of her ever since she had her break. [His breathing evens out as he explains.] Used to slip her alcohol to keep her calm. Deep vein thrombosis and cirrhosis from that and a Vitamin K deficiency. She wasn't eating anything but frozen burgers. Boring. What wasn't boring was that she was aware. Ended up calling CPS on herself. Got junior dragged away and out of her care. Thought that was strange. Schizophrenics aren't really known for their selflessness and rationality, but she wanted to get her son out of a bad situation.

Great thing about junior was, he took good notes. Literally everything was documented. Every time she even had a runny nose. Turned out mommy was having vision problems, none of the psych meds she was taking had ever worked, and she presented really late for a schizophrenic, 36. Had my team check her eyes for Wilson's Disease. Viola! Copper rings meant no more schizophrenic mom. She was a lot less fun when she was sane, but they usually are. Think junior's still got a grudge against me, too. Mommy didn't tell him she was the one who called CPS, so he assumed I was. Didn't see a reason to tell him otherwise. Kids! Always assuming.

[He's been mulling the old man and the BAC over in his head while he speaks, his mind going to the tumor they'd pulled out of that woman, injecting it with ethanol to shrink it. Unconventional things. Also unethical and illegal, but so it goes. And this case is unconventional. Clayton wouldn't think about common things presenting with odd symptoms - he doesn't know House well enough for that. So it's something uncommon presenting with odd symptoms.

Alcohol after eating foods heavy on the carbs. That's a detail Clayton's provided that House hadn't missed. Milk, toast, orange juice...

His eyes open and there's a small smirk on his lips, even as his heart is still battering too hard and everything is a little too loud.]

You seriously had a case of gut fermentation syndrome? The medical condition envy of every fratboy ever.

[cloneprincess]

[ Miranda's quiet for a while as she reviews the information Freya initially posted. She's aware that she's been jumping at shadows recently - everything looks like a Reaper when it turns out they're the eternal monsters under the galaxy's bed. But it's enough to give her pause, and this information could save lives. Even if Miranda's spreading nonsense and rumors, she wants to believe she's doing something. ]

'Reaper' is something of an umbrella term. The actual Reapers - those that perform brainwashing - are sapient machines the size of starships. They tend to work through the brainwashed shock troops they create from their enemies. They look... twisted, sometimes desiccated. Usually they have some visible element of glowing circuitry, but not always.

It was the shock troops your creature reminded me of, if it's shaped the way you are.

[clockblock]

[He can't smile with his ears like she can. They remain perked up no matter if he's feeling happiness, anxiety, or simple alertness. But his tail swishes against his legs, the movement pleased rather than nervous.]

Again, don't be. I appreciate any answer you can give.

[....]

As for me, I'm a Lombax. From the planet Fastoon.

[He's careful to hide just what that admission is really worth, what he thinks he's gambling by offering the information. Objectively, it's nothing at all — names that no one else knows carrying the oblivious weight of an unknown history. But the what of himself means so much.....still means so much.]

[lancingintherain]

If you'd rather not share, just say so. This is going nowhere.

You do know Tim as well as Jay, though, don't you? You're a friend of theirs.

[0thingsonmymind]

it isnot important


yes, iknow them
and alex @AK

tim says i am "friend"

*He's still not quite sure WHY Tim says this, though.*

[lancingintherain]

If Tim's calling you a friend, he means it. He wouldn't use that word lightly.

[this guy is still deeply creepy, but now, to her surprise, she feels a little sad for him, too—he doesn't sound malicious, just... lost.]

Do you think of him as a friend?

[0thingsonmymind]

a tim
not that tim

[armoured]

[He does blame himself, and yet he also knows how irrational that guilt is. It's a survivor's guilt, a way to rationalise the pain of losing someone he cares about.]

I'd still trust you both to go alone in the future.

[It's true, even though he might also worry at the same time.]

You're strong, a fighter, and you don't need a babysitter to make sure of that. This... it doesn't change that.

fashionably late to the dead meguca party

[lancingintherain]

[she gives him kind of a hollow look when he gets excited about the tablet, completely empty of any energy to be excited with him.]

...Er. Well, may well be out there somewhere, lying in wait somewhere else. But... no, this one was—it was all dark. Like the rest of them I've seen.

[but now his appearance—namely the fact that he looks bizarrely unrumpled for a denizen of snowhell—and his username have sunk in, and she realizes something...]

—Oh, you... you probably don't know about that. You're new, aren't you? One of that recent group?

[lancingintherain]

[she looks at the screen, surprise clearing away some of the fog of grief. Out of reflex, she sits up a little straighter—if he's telling the truth, she's talking to a superior officer.]

Don't—don't apologize. ...Sir. I'm sure you mean everything sincerely, but... only trust me that I'll appreciate your words in time. I can hear the truth in them. It's only difficult to believe right now.

[but oh here's something to distract herself with, and to use to learn more about this stranger:]

But you're... if I might ask, what is your title?

[lancingintherain]

[she props up her chin in her hand, resting her elbows on the table and slouching in her seat.]

Hmm. If that's the case, I'd like for them to show their face. It's cowardly, skulking around in the shadows, even if they are helping us.

[she doesn't know she's talking to someone who, by necessity, does need to skulk around in the shadows. Sorry for the unintentional vampire racism, Beckett.]

...What if it's both? A force that's aiding us, and one that wants us dead. ...It's a poetic balance.

[lancingintherain]

[reading Brian's oddly-spaced text makes her head hurt, let alone trying to decipher what he's trying to say, so despite her best efforts, some frustration slips into her voice:]

Oh, Brian, I don't know what you're saying. [and with INSTANT REGRET:] ...Damn it, I'm sorry—I know it isn't your fault. I really am sorry about... everything.

...Yes. Static; that's what I meant. The monster looked made out of that.

[silverfuller]

Hm?

I am Lord Haurchefant of House Fortemps. In my own world I commanded a garrison at Camp Dragonhead.

[A small grin rises into his voice.]

Of course I hold no such title here and even if I did I am not one to stand on formalities.

[warriorscribe]

["Strange"...yes, that's how he would describe every demonic or demon-tainted voice he's ever heard. Either a nightmarish gurgle or a reverberating rumble that resonated in one's gut in the worst way...]

"Strange" how? Did it have a...a garbled sort of sound to it, by any chance?

[maskintape]

He's saying the thing - uh, the Operator - usually has that effect on video footage. Not in person.

He - he's not wrong. So maybe it's not - it isn't the same thing, but like. An extension of it? I dunno.

[ What a good job Tim is here to clumsily translate!! And put forth tentative lil theories. It still has to be related to the thing, somehow. Right? THIS MANY COINCIDENCES CAN'T ACTUALLY JUST BE COINCIDENCE

SURELY

FOR SURE ]

[0thingsonmymind]

yes, that

*Good thing Tim is translating, something must be wrong with Freya if she doesn't understand him.*

ihave never seen
ex ten sions

*Unless people like him and Masky count?*

[bookofnope]

[The vampire racism is hardly a problem; if anything, it means he has a good perspective on why someone might want to help without showing their face. He briefly considers as much, fingers tapping against the tablet.]

To be fair, we do not make it seem as though we'd be the easiest crowd to please. [His tone is wry, but there is that. The mood of the city when it comes to their imagined captors is clear.]

I don't trust poetics, but... [His mouth twists down at one corner.] You're suggesting that we are pawns in some external struggle.

[lancingintherain]

[oh, wow—that definitely paints him in a new light. Her mouth falls open a little, but she remembers to close it again almost right away. She gives him a bow: awkward and shaky and sitting-down, but the best she can do.]

My lord. I—I understand. But I am; I hope you don't mind. It's a habit.

[she tries to sit up straight again, but her head and ears still droop.]

I... now, there's a coincidence. I'm what my people call a Dragon Knight, and here you are, from your Camp Dragonhead.

[lancingintherain]

[the question snaps her out of her moment of grief, and she draws in a sharp breath as she turns to look at Mami.]

Better?

[she swallows, and takes her hand away from the wall. She rubs her hands together like she's trying to get warm, or maybe trying to rub something away.]

I... I don't know. But his death was cruel. It was a waste.

[silverfuller]

Oh?

That is quite a coincidence indeed.

[A thoughtful pause.]

There are Dragon Knights where I hail from as well though their more proper title is Dragoon.

[lancingintherain]

[she swallows, and closes her eyes as she tries to remember. It doesn't take much effort to let the memories from the previous night flood her mind, and her hands close tighter around the edges of tablet. Her claws make a soft scraping sound against the metal backing.]

It... yes. It was full of noise; it crowded out the words. Made them hard to understand. Almost like someone crumpling and tearing up paper. ...It wasn't a person's voice.

[she blinks her eyes open.]

..How did you know?