Pearson 'Pierce' Langford (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spiritwrangler) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2019-06-14 12:44 pm
spiritwrangler) wrote in middaeg2019-06-14 12:44 pm
June Full Moon Log ☋ OPEN
Who: Pearson Langford, OPEN
When: Evening of June 17th
Where: Anywhere within the city
What: Pierce's denial has lead to a bad reaction to the moons this month. Now his repressed instincts have surged out in full force, and he's looking for something - or someone - to hunt.
Warnings: Body horror and self-harm mentions; possibly some horniness and violence but I'm not planning on full NSFW.
[There's something wrong with his skin.
Pierce has been restlessly pacing the floor in his apartment for most of the day, scratching at his arms and around his eyes until his skin has started to tear. There's a new growth of scales growing underneath, orange and black peeking through under the blood, and seeing that only makes him all the more agitated. He already went through this last month, when the skin around his hips and thighs had started peeling. Pierce had panicked then, too, all efforts to scrape off his new scales in vain once he discovered that they just grew back once they healed up.
Every intention he had of keeping himself locked inside was being drowned out by an overwhelming need to leave, to get out of this (suddenly too-cold) room. Once he realized that he was going to need a lot more bandages, well, having a reason to go outside broke through the last of his good sense. Pierce shrugs on his coat, shoves his hat onto his head, and practically runs out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Without the sunglasses he's been wearing for a month, his pupils look almost completely blown out, the scales growing in around his eyes all too obvious when he stands in the light. It's a good thing, then, that his instincts drive him towards darker streets and alleys where the light from the streetlamps doesn't reach.]
A.
[Pierce never makes it to the pharmacy, like he'd been intending when he first stepped outside. It's not nearly warm enough for him now that the sun's gone down, leaving him huddling in his overcoat as though it were the middle of winter instead of near summer. The amount of walking he was doing helped, but if it weren't for the excessive energy he had right now, he would've been tempted to turn around and go right back home.
There's a part of him that can't stand the idea of going back to his apartment, or going indoors at all. So he keeps walking, through a street lined with market stalls that are just getting packed up now that the last of the sunlight has disappeared on the horizon. One of the booths is littered with various magical trinkets, one in particular catching his eye. It just looks like a plain rock, but it's faintly glowing with a yellow light and Pierce can tell almost immediately that its warm, and that's just what he needs.
While the seller at the booth is distracted with packing his goods back up, Pierce reaches out and snatches the rock, sticking it in his pocket before the owner could notice. That doesn't mean he's being particularly stealthy otherwise, but if you want to stop him you'll need to be quick. Pierce is already walking faster, turning down a nearby side street to put some distance between himself and the scene of the crime.]
B.
[If you're starting to feel like you're being followed, it's not just the late hour playing tricks on your mind.
Pierce has already spent a good hour tracing after strays, and now he's eager for more of a challenge. He's not half bad at this, either - it helps that he dresses like the locals do, and he knows to keep his distance while he's trailing someone, occasionally slinking back between buildings when he thinks his current target might turn around.
There's very little sign of his usual nerves right now. Being the hunter makes him feel damn near invincible, his pulse spiking in anticipation the more he closes the gap between himself and his prey. He waits until the person he's following is near the mouth of a dark alley before stepping in closer, the brim of his hat pulled low and casting a shadow over his eyes, and a smile on his lips.]
'Scuse me, friend. There's a small matter I was hopin' you could help me with.
C. WILDCARD if you have another scenario in mind!
When: Evening of June 17th
Where: Anywhere within the city
What: Pierce's denial has lead to a bad reaction to the moons this month. Now his repressed instincts have surged out in full force, and he's looking for something - or someone - to hunt.
Warnings: Body horror and self-harm mentions; possibly some horniness and violence but I'm not planning on full NSFW.
[There's something wrong with his skin.
Pierce has been restlessly pacing the floor in his apartment for most of the day, scratching at his arms and around his eyes until his skin has started to tear. There's a new growth of scales growing underneath, orange and black peeking through under the blood, and seeing that only makes him all the more agitated. He already went through this last month, when the skin around his hips and thighs had started peeling. Pierce had panicked then, too, all efforts to scrape off his new scales in vain once he discovered that they just grew back once they healed up.
Every intention he had of keeping himself locked inside was being drowned out by an overwhelming need to leave, to get out of this (suddenly too-cold) room. Once he realized that he was going to need a lot more bandages, well, having a reason to go outside broke through the last of his good sense. Pierce shrugs on his coat, shoves his hat onto his head, and practically runs out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Without the sunglasses he's been wearing for a month, his pupils look almost completely blown out, the scales growing in around his eyes all too obvious when he stands in the light. It's a good thing, then, that his instincts drive him towards darker streets and alleys where the light from the streetlamps doesn't reach.]
A.
[Pierce never makes it to the pharmacy, like he'd been intending when he first stepped outside. It's not nearly warm enough for him now that the sun's gone down, leaving him huddling in his overcoat as though it were the middle of winter instead of near summer. The amount of walking he was doing helped, but if it weren't for the excessive energy he had right now, he would've been tempted to turn around and go right back home.
There's a part of him that can't stand the idea of going back to his apartment, or going indoors at all. So he keeps walking, through a street lined with market stalls that are just getting packed up now that the last of the sunlight has disappeared on the horizon. One of the booths is littered with various magical trinkets, one in particular catching his eye. It just looks like a plain rock, but it's faintly glowing with a yellow light and Pierce can tell almost immediately that its warm, and that's just what he needs.
While the seller at the booth is distracted with packing his goods back up, Pierce reaches out and snatches the rock, sticking it in his pocket before the owner could notice. That doesn't mean he's being particularly stealthy otherwise, but if you want to stop him you'll need to be quick. Pierce is already walking faster, turning down a nearby side street to put some distance between himself and the scene of the crime.]
B.
[If you're starting to feel like you're being followed, it's not just the late hour playing tricks on your mind.
Pierce has already spent a good hour tracing after strays, and now he's eager for more of a challenge. He's not half bad at this, either - it helps that he dresses like the locals do, and he knows to keep his distance while he's trailing someone, occasionally slinking back between buildings when he thinks his current target might turn around.
There's very little sign of his usual nerves right now. Being the hunter makes him feel damn near invincible, his pulse spiking in anticipation the more he closes the gap between himself and his prey. He waits until the person he's following is near the mouth of a dark alley before stepping in closer, the brim of his hat pulled low and casting a shadow over his eyes, and a smile on his lips.]
'Scuse me, friend. There's a small matter I was hopin' you could help me with.
C. WILDCARD if you have another scenario in mind!
no subject
It would certainly be a little less nerve wracking if I were aware that you were merely doing it out of enjoyment in the first place. [It really wouldn't though. He can't see why the other would want to stalk him as they had. It was certainly suspicious.
He takes a step back when Pierce takes a step forward. It's more of an unconscious action. Newt was never too fond of anyone being in his personal space. That hasn't changed since his arrival here.]
Is that so? [He tilts his head curiously.] Well, you're free to ask now. I'm not in a rush to be anywhere at the moment. What was on your mind?
no subject
I was wonderin' if you've read any Walt Whitman. I know you're from across the pond, but you struck me as bein' the type who would enjoy it.
[It might seem odd to bring up literature at a time like this, but Pierce had reasons that were only partially down to distracting him. He starts walking again, slowly - not directly towards Newt, but starting to slowly circle around him, as if looking for an opening physically if his words didn't land.]
Of course, he wrote for the workin' man. You might be of a mind for somethin' more... decadent. Like Oscar Wilde?
no subject
Walt Whitman? I'm afraid I'm not quite learned in muggle literature from America. My knowledge of the States are fairly limited still.
[Newt doesn't exactly keep looking at the other, but Pierce can figure out quickly that he doesn't ever have his back to the other. Either as precaution or because it simply was just rude not to face the other while talking to them.]
I am familiar with Oscar Wilde, but you could say I was always more academic with what I consumed.
no subject
"His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him,
His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return..."
[And if reciting the start of an obviously questionable poem isn't enough, he reaches out to make a grab at Newt's upper arm. Pierce had meant just to touch him, at first, but the other man's inability to stay in one spot was starting to make him awfully frustrated.]
no subject
Why was the other quoting such lines?
He doesn't really get much time to consider answers to his question because he tucks his arm towards his chest and away from the other quickly when the other reaches out. He had always been kind of uncomfortable with physical interaction usually. For the other to reach out like that-] I-I'm not- What are you doing?
What exactly is it you actually want?