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Entry tags:
[ open ] i am no one's blessing
Who: Qrow Branwen & you!
When: First full moon of Mareuer
Where: Aefenglom
What: Baby's first bloodlust
Warnings: Blood, emetophobia, references to alcoholism, potential violence
i. around 8 pm, bar
[It's on his way in from the Wilde, not long after the last tinges of sunset fade, that he first feels it.
There's a strange discomfort in his stomach, the kind where you're not sure if you're hungry or nauseous. It's dismissed outright, at first; it's not been that long since he ate, and he's not sure if he wants to test the "or nauseous" part until he's alone inside the house he's claimed here. It's easily ignored at first, anyway, but it gets worse the more he walks. He doesn't relish the idea of being sick before he gets home, so...most stores are closed by now, but the bars should be open, especially with Eostre going on right now. Some seltzer water might help; it's not like the barkeepers don't know him well enough to forgive the lack of revenue one night.
By the time he reaches the bar, the discomfort has morphed into outright pain and he sits doubled over against the bar, clutching onto a glass as he struggles not to make a noise out of distress. What's happening to him? The fangs weren't a pleasant experience, sure, but he feels like his body wants to tear itself apart from the inside, this time. Anyone who so much as comes close gets an extremely pissy glare leveled at them.]
What?
ii. 10:30 PM aefenglom streets [cw: blood, emetophobia]
[The night only gets worse from there. A woman a few seats away, very cheerfully drunk, gestures a little too wildly with a glass in her hand, and it smashes on the ground. (How unfortunate, his mind helpfully supplies. It's not his fault, but maybe it is, maybe it's still there even though he can't feel it anymore, isn't that possible?) She reaches down to pick up the broken glass even though the barkeeper tells her not to, and cuts her hand on the glass. And then--
It's not ferality, not yet, but Qrow experiences something akin to a blackout for a few seconds as the smell of blood hits the air, and before he knows it he's slammed her up against a wall, fangs bared against the open wound in her hand, prepared to rip it open and take the sustenance instead before he remembers where he is and stumbles backwards. All but crawls on his hands and knees to get away before he gathers himself enough to run, pain forgotten for the moment in sheer horrified adrenaline. That's what the fangs are for. He's supposed to hurt people, to tear them apart to nourish himself and ....
Abruptly, he crumples to his knees and retches, dry heaves bringing up nothing but water and stomach acid. He can't do this. He can't he can't he can't he can't--fuck, he was so stupid to think his curse had ever left him for a minute. Here it is personified in the truest form of his lifelong insecurities, isn't it? Twisting him into a Monster that needs to hurt others to exist. Unfortunate.
--Footsteps around the corner get a howl of distress, and he looks at whoever it is with an almost maddened terror in his eyes.]
No! Get away from me! Run!
iii. 1:45 AM, Closed to Sasuke
[Every encounter up to now has ended, eventually, with him taking off at a run. He's kept himself from hurting anyone yet, but with each show of willpower his stamina is fading. By the time he runs into Sasuke, he's visibly shaking from the effort. He makes a panicked noise in his throat when he makes eye contact, like he can sense the blood still pumping in Sasuke's veins for the time being, and drives his fangs right into his own hand because he cannot live with himself if he harms a child in this condition.
He slides down against a wall, landing roughly on the cobbled street, and half-wheezes, muffled, through his hand--]
L...eave. Don't get--closer.
When: First full moon of Mareuer
Where: Aefenglom
What: Baby's first bloodlust
Warnings: Blood, emetophobia, references to alcoholism, potential violence
i. around 8 pm, bar
[It's on his way in from the Wilde, not long after the last tinges of sunset fade, that he first feels it.
There's a strange discomfort in his stomach, the kind where you're not sure if you're hungry or nauseous. It's dismissed outright, at first; it's not been that long since he ate, and he's not sure if he wants to test the "or nauseous" part until he's alone inside the house he's claimed here. It's easily ignored at first, anyway, but it gets worse the more he walks. He doesn't relish the idea of being sick before he gets home, so...most stores are closed by now, but the bars should be open, especially with Eostre going on right now. Some seltzer water might help; it's not like the barkeepers don't know him well enough to forgive the lack of revenue one night.
By the time he reaches the bar, the discomfort has morphed into outright pain and he sits doubled over against the bar, clutching onto a glass as he struggles not to make a noise out of distress. What's happening to him? The fangs weren't a pleasant experience, sure, but he feels like his body wants to tear itself apart from the inside, this time. Anyone who so much as comes close gets an extremely pissy glare leveled at them.]
What?
ii. 10:30 PM aefenglom streets [cw: blood, emetophobia]
[The night only gets worse from there. A woman a few seats away, very cheerfully drunk, gestures a little too wildly with a glass in her hand, and it smashes on the ground. (How unfortunate, his mind helpfully supplies. It's not his fault, but maybe it is, maybe it's still there even though he can't feel it anymore, isn't that possible?) She reaches down to pick up the broken glass even though the barkeeper tells her not to, and cuts her hand on the glass. And then--
It's not ferality, not yet, but Qrow experiences something akin to a blackout for a few seconds as the smell of blood hits the air, and before he knows it he's slammed her up against a wall, fangs bared against the open wound in her hand, prepared to rip it open and take the sustenance instead before he remembers where he is and stumbles backwards. All but crawls on his hands and knees to get away before he gathers himself enough to run, pain forgotten for the moment in sheer horrified adrenaline. That's what the fangs are for. He's supposed to hurt people, to tear them apart to nourish himself and ....
Abruptly, he crumples to his knees and retches, dry heaves bringing up nothing but water and stomach acid. He can't do this. He can't he can't he can't he can't--fuck, he was so stupid to think his curse had ever left him for a minute. Here it is personified in the truest form of his lifelong insecurities, isn't it? Twisting him into a Monster that needs to hurt others to exist. Unfortunate.
--Footsteps around the corner get a howl of distress, and he looks at whoever it is with an almost maddened terror in his eyes.]
No! Get away from me! Run!
iii. 1:45 AM, Closed to Sasuke
[Every encounter up to now has ended, eventually, with him taking off at a run. He's kept himself from hurting anyone yet, but with each show of willpower his stamina is fading. By the time he runs into Sasuke, he's visibly shaking from the effort. He makes a panicked noise in his throat when he makes eye contact, like he can sense the blood still pumping in Sasuke's veins for the time being, and drives his fangs right into his own hand because he cannot live with himself if he harms a child in this condition.
He slides down against a wall, landing roughly on the cobbled street, and half-wheezes, muffled, through his hand--]
L...eave. Don't get--closer.
no subject
I don't....know what I need.
[At first he'd felt too sick for alcohol but he's slowly starting to lean toward the idea of getting blackout drunk so everything stops hurting? Maybe if it gets worse.]
What do you want to talk about?
no subject
(it's chance that brought him to the tavern at the same time as qrow, but he won't let him suffer through this alone unless he says it.)
Quests you've done, people you've met, places you've gone to see... or you favourite things, things that make you feel good. Even if they're small, or insignificant.
no subject
It takes him an embarrassingly long time to come up with anything at all.]
Eostre was nice, I guess.
[Mostly because of the uh, cheap alcohol ahahahah. God, he's terrible at talking about himself. Remnant was easier, back in the woods, but he's feeling too vulnerable and fucked up to really want to talk about that, either.]
I've gone back out in the Wilde sometimes. [He shrugs a little.] For the Wilders, or things like the flowers from the crying tree or dealing with the weird grass. It's the most familiar for me.
[He's not made any new friends since the Outpost, are you kidding. He's been going this whole thing alone for the most part. Part lifelong habit, part stubborn denial that he's trapped indefinitely without any of the people he loves and no immediately obvious means toward getting back to them. Hell, even the looming specter of having to Bond has gone willfully ignored.]