open / a fading echo spinning away

[battlebound]

Who: Steak and you??? [ Open log! ]
When: Throughout the month
Where: Aefenglom, the Wilde
What: Returning from the expedition, going feral, comfort seeking and quest goodness!
Warnings: Violence, suffering, all the good shit

— back home / open to residents of caren's house

[ When Steak walks through the door, he's short one (1) sword and massaging a knot in his shoulders with a tentacle, face drawn into the kind of no-nonsense glower it usually has.

He's still irritated about being devoid of half of his weapons, but it's been days since the theft and he can't keep stewing on it. ]

I need a bath...

[ More to the point, he smells less than pleasant and everything aches in that satisfying way only hard work can achieve. A bath sounds right on point — providing he can reach the bathroom before anyone points out that he smells like dirt and sweat.

Or before anyone catches him detouring towards a bedroom that isn't his, knocking once as warning. ]

Oi. Red Wine.

[ Nothing. But hey, housemate. ]

Is he in there?

[ Or off somewhere being a scoundrel? ]

— losing it / open

[ That there's a war inside Steak is something he's quite aware of, even if the fighting goes largely unbroadcast to Aefenglom and its people.

It's nothing more than an irritation. He can deal with it, live life here as normally as he did on Tierra. There's no trouble but the bother caused by growing tentacles and cow ears.

He's fine, as long as he keeps working. Keeps going to DiplomaTea and carrying boxes, helping out those he meets in the city. He ventures into the Wilde, even sans one of his swords, tries to use his new form to combat the lack of a second weapon, and shrugs off the dual instincts responding to any threats.

He craves the water, the land, and enemies on his horns, in his grasp. Anything to keep him safe from the things which follow him back from the Wilde and to the limits of the wall. ]

Get away from me!

[ The cry he lets out as he attacks, fierce and hot, tentacles spinning in lieu of his second sword, is one which should be all too familiar to anyone who spends time in or near the Wilde. But the growl beneath it is harsh, rough with growing instincts and pain as the full moon hovers just beneath the horizon.

But it's fine. It's just another transformation, another evening of agony and strangeness. Nothing unusual, he just needs to get back—

Get... back.

His head spins, thoughts dissolving from words to shapeless blobs, flashes of pain blinding him as he crosses back into the city.

What is it this time? How much further can his transformation twist his form into something he never intended it to be? Beyond anything any Master Attendant may have forced him to become?

His brow twitches, and he blindly grasps for the nearest surface as his legs buckle, as something white hot clutches at his chest, a vice against his lungs and heart. ]

Dammit...

[ The argument inside him, constant as it is, grows louder, and he grimaces. No. He won't allow this. Even under the full moon, he is not a monster. Not a beast.

And certainly not a discount Uke Mochi.

Steak grunts, head shaking, limbs trembling as he resists the urge to collapse, or the urge to listen to the nature inside of him.

He is a Food Soul.

He is not a monster.

But his body, his mind, disagrees, and the last parts of his arguments to himself disappear within the fog of instinct and destruction. ]

— between the wars / closed to red wine

[ Silence reigns inside him, the quiet of exhaustion and agony leaving him still in his bed, hands folded over his stomach, tentacles draping over the edges of the bed.

He knows Red Wine is there, but his eyes don't leave the ceiling, tracing the patterns in the paint job without any real interest. The only noise the gentle, continuous exhale of breath as he counts the seconds between inhaling and exhaling.

Is... this really what he is, now? Something which loses control so easily? ]

— continuing conquest / open to those on the quest!

[ He could rest. Some may say he should rest, but Steak has never been good at that. He throws himself into the ongoing quest as soon as the full moon leaves the sky, bouncing over to Dorchacht via teleporter and heading out with a group to set up a new outpost.

The more he moves, the better. The more useful he can be, the better.

The more like a Food Soul he feels.

So perhaps it's a bit overbearing, a redheaded young man striding over when he sees someone trying to lift a heavy object, tentacles already poised to grab it. ]

Let me help!

— in the city / open

[ That overbearing need to help extends to Aefenglom itself. While Steak can easily be found continuing his work in DiplomaTea, or fighting things in the Wilde, the real difference is found in the way he approaches the city itself.

He spots small problems with an uncanny accuracy. A cat wandering around the streets? He's the first to try to pick it up, to see if it has a tag, or ask anyone nearby if they recognise it. Those stumbling out of the taverns and bars at night are regarded with a wary eye, and he rushes forward to assist the uneasy or stop the violent as needed.

He does whatever he can, but it never quite shakes the unease he feels of that night ]

— wildcard

[ hit me with anything! feel free to contact me at isanghae#8071 / isanghae to hash something out! ]

Comments

between the wars;

[judgementor]

[He's there. He's been there since he dragged Steak back here and locked him in this room, battling against his protests and the turmoil in his own head brought on by his fellow knight's loss of control.

Red Wine hasn't taken a breath in the last ten minutes. No need for it, save for when he needs to speak, and he's growing used to the lack of necessity.

But Steak isn't saying anything, isn't doing anything, and while his first instinct is to snap at him he's done enough of that today already. He pulls in a sharp breath through his nose and stands up, pushing himself from the chair with the heel of his hand. The space between them is only a few strides and he closes it silently, sitting down on the edge of the bed.]

... You need a Witch.

(':

[battlebound]

[ It isn't even that he's running through thoughts, not really. The idea of what he's become hangs over his head, heavy and still.

He simply feels... numb. As cold as he would be in an ice arena, but this time he doesn't feel refreshed by any of it. ]

What? [ The suggestion is enough to make him push himself up, looking at Red Wine with brows knitted together. ] Why?

[ It was just one mistake. He can deal with this. ]

[judgementor]

Why?

[Red Wine looks at him sharply, a flicker of annoyance in his blood-red eyes. After what just happened, he has to ask why? He huffs softly and shakes his head.]

You know why. This can't happen again, and I can't help you to control it. [He isn't like Red Wine, who has spent decades, centuries battling to keep himself under control. Even Red Wine feels himself slipping at times, but he brings himself back from the brink each time.]

I can't help you, but a bond with a witch could.

[battlebound]

[ It's something which, in words, is so much like a contract with an Attendant that it shouldn't feel antithetical to Steak's nature. Food Souls always have to be prepared to face the possibility of a contract if they no longer have one, after all. But he doesn't like it. Not after so long being without any bonds but the one he's always had with Red Wine.

He folds his arms, pulls his legs up until he's sitting cross-legged on the bed, scowling at the very idea. He doesn't need one. Needing one implies he's incapable of dealing with this problem.

And he's dealt with it until now, so why can't he go back to that? ]

Would that quiet the fighting?

[ He knows it's supposed to be the most stable bond, but does the bond have anything to do with the parts of his transformation tearing at his mind? ]

[judgementor]

I don't--..

[He's been aware of it, in a vague sense. That internal battle that has only grown stronger within Steak as the transformations have progressed. Perhaps it was inevitable that it would become too much for him, and even a different bond couldn't have stopped it, but...

But then again...]

I don't know.

[They would have to ask about it. Red Wine knows they've been avoiding the issue, and it's left them at a disadvantage now.

Red Wine's expression flickers, and he looks down at his hands.]

I can't help but feel I... hastened you towards it. In no small way.

Losing It

[petcromancer]

[Hector really shouldn't be venturing out this close to the full moon. His first full moon, he'd been a shaking, paranoid mess. But forewarned is forearmed, and Hector is determined to not let his animal instincts keep him from his work.

So he's out, coming back from scouting around the wild for injured animals. Today's search was fruitless, which is both good and also frustrating. He doesn't want animals hurt, but he likes having work to keep him busy.

He's not inclined to be so charitable to people, but a chimera? Chimeras are interesting. And this chimera, he's met before. Hector muscles through the faun instinct to avoid danger and follows after the chimera as he passes.]

Hey, slow down. Take a breath.

[battlebound]

[ It might help, if Steak was... Steak. But his inner voice has reduced to a whisper among the shrieking of monster instincts, wordless and angry things, furious that they've been ignored for so long.

A battle cry rips free of his throat, a low rumble of anger punctuated by breath forced out of the nostrils, and tentacles reach forward, grabbing for someone he has a twinge of recognition for.

But that recognition is no more than a red cloth, waved ceaselessly in front of a rampaging bull, as Steak's head begins to lower in anticipation of catching and skewering it. ]

[petcromancer]

[Hector stumbles back. There is a jerk at his waist, where a tentacle has seized the red sash he has tied around his hips, and he fumbles at the knot to untie it.]

Steak, what do you need?

[With other monsters, it is usually not too hard to guess what might sooth the instincts clouding the mind. Chimeras, though...no two are the same. Hector manages to free himself from the sash, and he hops just out of reach of the grasping tentacles.]

Is this a fight? Are we fighting?

[battlebound]

[ Fighting?

Yes. Fighting is good. It's familiar. It feels right to fight, the presence of anyone now little more than a taunt to a rampaging animal

Words are beyond him right now, but the question is answered directly enough in the way the sash is disregarded, dropped to the ground in favour of following the noise in a blur of movement, the point of his horns aiming directly at Hector.

He has two perfectly fine weapons on his head, why has he never used them before? ]

Back Home

[clickclickbang]

What is that smell--oh.

[Unfortunately for Prompto, being a turnskin means he gets super senses and he happened to get boosts to his sight, sound, and smell. This means he can smell Steak before he even gets near Red Wine's room, and means he's heading out of his room to find who it is that's stinking up the place.]

Everything alright?

[battlebound]

[ Sorry about that Prompto. He'll be in a bath soon enough, hopefully. ]

You seen Red Wine?

[ He hasn't lost his mind and started feeding on stray cats, has he? Steak would think he would have felt that, but he has no idea what to expect from Aefenglom's magic and bonds, really. ]

[clickclickbang]

Uh...nooot since dinner, I don't think. Why?

[battlebound]

I want to make sure he isn't causing problems.

[ Here or otherwise.

Or maybe just to see if his anger will flare to life upon seeing Steak again. ]

In the City

[arturiarex]

[ Saber is merely running errands to her own satisfaction when she runs into Steak again. And this time he has a furry little friend (and Saber has a lion tail). She bends over to offer the cat her hand, eyebrows quirked curiously. ]

I'm afraid I don't recognize them and I don't own a cat. But they're certainly... cute.

[battlebound]

Cute?

[ That's... one way of putting it. He's never thought too much about how cute cats are. ]

You're a fan of cats?

[ The tail gets a glance, but when you've grown several tentacles and a pair of cow ears, you can hardly make a comment about people's growths.

The cat, meanwhile? That's a curious little bugger, one which gladly stretches out of Steak's hands to sniff at the newcomer, then bump its head against her hand, wriggling and making Steak have to fumble to keep his grip on it. ]

You—

[ animals. Never work with 'em. ]

[arturiarex]

Yes, honestly. I appreciate them.

[ Saber's expression has softened to the point where she's smiling gently, still stroking the cat under the chin. Poor Steak has to deal with the wriggling cat, but Saber doesn't seem to mind that too much. She reaches out to steady the animal. ]

It's just curious. Perhaps it doesn't have a home?

[battlebound]

[ This happens more than it should, really. Part of the dangers of offering to help people with whatever their problems are is that sometimes their problems are cats in places cats should not be. ]

... Maybe.

[ There's no collar to identify it as belonging to anyone, but it seems quite tame, quite happy to have humanoids towering around it, playing with it. ]

It must be used to people.

losing it

[itsjiaheng]

[ if jongdae was smarter he'd be indoors right now, resting somewhere. that's usually what you do when you feel like he does which only seems to be getting progressively worse with time (and full moons).

sucks!! when you're restless on top of that.

which is why he's out here, taking a walk in the hopes that he might be able to calm down enough to do the settling and the resting bit. walking and kicking rocks along the road. it's extremely productive, right??

movement somewhere ahead of him snaps him back to attention, looking up and hovering awkwardly where he's stopped short on the street. there's a tension in him, like he's trying to decide if he wants to stay put or get away. his senses, he's discovered, feel like someone cranked up his dials to eleven during the full moons. it makes a guy a little more paranoid than usual and the shape of an unfamiliar monster is not suuuuper reassuring. he hasn't been in aefenglom long enough to have the connection of monster = friend just yet and the staggering and unsteadiness he's seeing is also not helping, even if part of him wonders if maybe he should actually be helping.. ]

Uh—.. hey? You okay over there, buddy?

[battlebound]

[ Steak was no better his first full moon. Or, really, any full moon since, but none of them have hit quite like this. It's a yelling, a screaming, a need to be heard, until it's so loud that Steak can't hear himself. Until there's nothing but instinct and the noises of others, both echoing against one another painfully.

His ears twitch, head turning slowly towards the noise, the unfamiliar person a gleaming, glistening target.

He charges, his head low, horns pointed in the direction of the... prey? Threat? He's not even sure what his body thinks it is any more. ]

[itsjiaheng]

[ ... oh. this isn't a very good look. even jongdae with his extremely limited experience in things can tell that the way the chimera is squaring off is not ideal. ]

Wait—.. wait! You really don't want to—..

[ steak clearly moves a lot faster than jongdae expects (or he really does think that he might stop) since he only just manages to dodge out of the way, stumbling against the wall of the nearest building since flinging himself like that doesn't really agree with his balance. he can't exactly back off anymore like this, so he's hoping that he has a little time after that charge to find a less vulnerable position. ]

You knooow.. we don't have to do this kinda thing, right? Like, friends? Don't you want friends and allies? [ a nervous bit of laughter. he glances up a little, reminded that oh yeah, this moon probably agrees with no one. ]

Is this like.. a feral thing? Is that what happens?!

[battlebound]

[ ...Dammit.

Steak misses, and the halting of his charge has him stumbling, stopping him for long enough to allow his unfortunate victim a moment's respite, but Steak's head turns towards the chattering, raising, staring at the stranger with an unnervingly hollow gaze.

Red eyes which reflect nothing but the beast Aefenglom wants Steak to be.

He says nothing to all the questions, barely seems to hear or comprehend the words being uttered, but exhales instead, the rumbling noise of anger running through his bones. What more is there, but the urge to fight, to destroy?

And so, Steak — or the monster once known as Steak — reaches for this body, this thing trying to stop him, tentacles whipping out from his waist as he stalks forward. ]

Losing it (with a twist)

[quintessent]

[The full moon has brought Allura to the edges of the city - Keith's disappearance, no matter how much he assured her it was necessary, had her worried and now that Lance is bound to the water for the time being, she's on her own to look for him. It's foolish, perhaps, but she doesn't think twice about it as she wanders, not lost but with little idea of where her friend would have disappeared to.

It's not far outside of town that she finds herself in trouble. She's never seen one of the monsters so close to town, but she quickly ends up with her back against the wall, trying to remember just how she'd thrown fire in her dream (she's only been playing with plants so far, with her magic lessons). Advancing on it's prey, the creature snarls and snaps and-

Suddenly there's a second creature, charging in and slamming the first in a flurry of horns and tentacles and-

Wait, it can't be-]

Steak!

[battlebound]

[ A monster makes a fine target, though Steak's movements are clearly... more. More violent than necessary, tackling the thing right into the wall of a building, hard enough to shake the brickwork. The thudding of his hands against its shape more like hooves stamping into something than a fist.

His rage is a wave, engulfing him until everything else is a blur, the sound of a voice calling his name barely registering among the shrieking of the monster and the smack of fists against skin. ]

[quintessent]

[She winces when he slams the beast against the bricks, not far away from where she's standing, and with a gasp she's stumbling to the side, slipping in the rain-soaked grass as she makes some distance between her and the flurry of beast arms and legs.

She'd assume this was a rescue, but there's something about Steak's movements - something feral and she's left standing, frozen.

The beast has a stinger, some kind of scorpion tail, and it's swinging around, wildly searching for it's mark, and she cries out,]

To your right!

[battlebound]

[ —ight!

It could be anyone speaking to him, but there's a vague, familiar echo to the voice, something which tugs at the part of him silenced and bound by anger and feral instinct. His arm slams in the direction she indicates, sword forgotten in favour of arms and limbs which strike with wild abandon.

There's a viciousness to each movement, and stopping the stinger functions as little more than a prelude to his attack, to tentacles wrapping around the beast until things crunch and crack under the pressure, and horns piercing flesh as its held still against the wall.

Again.

And again.

Until its screeching stops. ]