middaeg | [ OPEN ] dog days are over

Entry tags:

[ OPEN ] dog days are over

Who: Waver Velvet & YOU!
When: throughout Aguril
Where: around Aefenglom, potentially some in the Wilde or the Underground
What: Waver has a no good, very bad, very awkward month. event, quests and shenanigans
Warnings: will add as needed

→ i. OPEN: Lùnasa, Aguril 1-3; poppin' parties, badly

→ ii. OPEN: Aguril 4-20; a horse corpse, of course; aka, the damsel in distress

Open and closed starters in the comments! Please let me know via PM or at

gunsandchocolate if you want to plot something out or want me to set up a starter for you. Wildcards welcome!

Paragraph prose-style or brackets are both fine, so please feel free to tag in whatever style you prefer and I'll match you. :>

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Oh, no, I don't-- No, thank you!

[ Waver has to raise his voice above the laughter, shouting and music as an overly enthusiastic wolflike Turnskin tries to cajole him (loudly) into joining the dance that a bunch of the party-goers are participating in. It seems to involve all of them forming haphazard lines up and down and spinning around their partners, trading them back and forth. There's a lot of touching and a lot of strangers and Waver doesn't even know who this party is for. ]

I'm telling you, I don't know how to dance!

[ Desperately, Waver casts around for anyone nearby who looks like they might be able to get him out of this situation. ]

A-and I already have plans with someone else! See?

[ He makes eye contact with someone. Please save him. ]

There are rumors of an unearthly screaming in the distance around the Wilde lately, even near the less-fortunate settlements just outside the Bright Wall. Similar rumors travel through the Wilders and perhaps even the Mirrorbound who frequent the Northern Outpost for one reason or another. There's a strange new sort of beasts in the area.

And they're out for blood.

........specifically, perhaps, Waver's blood. Though he doesn't know it yet.

He might be just beyond the Bright Wall, delivering some food to one of the refugee soup kitchens or bringing some extra potion supplies to other volunteers. He might be doing research at the Northern Outpost, gathering samples of the different plants and mosses that grow there, some of them still thriving even in the dead of winter. Or maybe he got separated somehow from a group outside in the Wilde for one reason or another. Who knows?

The problem is: the Nuckelavee are mysteriously extremely pissed off at the two people with whom he spends time most often, pretty much every day, so that screeching and screaming is getting alarmingly near. The thunderous pounding of horse hooves draws close.

"What the hell is that?" Waver manages, before he realizes the ghoulish horse-and-rider creature is dashing right at him.

Well, shit.

He might scramble for his short sword, or try to summon up a fire spell, though it seems that when he uses the magic stored in the tattoos on his arm, the creature for some reason becomes even more enraged. Or, perhaps, you catch him sprinting for his life with a shrieking nightmare horseman at his heels.

(( ooc: kept it kind of vague to allow for different scenarios throughout the month! feel free to take the reins ~~pun intended~~ and control the Nuckelavee(s) if you so desire. Waver has no idea why they're chasing him, but they're going to be very persistent. ))

Edited 2020-08-08 01:20 (UTC)

Holding one's ground and standing to fight is an admirable thing to do, but it's not exactly advisable against something as relentless as the Nuckelavee. It should only be a last resort or a carefully executed plan of attack. This is why something within Ozymandias drops and his blood runs a little colder as he sees Waver reaching for his short sword instead of turning away and moving with the rest. Ozymandias immediately moves toward Waver and the impending Nuckelavee rather than away from it unlike others who live just outside the Wall and begin a panicked scramble to get away from any nearby Mirrorbound. He doesn't really care how much skill Waver has developed with a blade. This isn't the sort of foe he should be standing against.

Ozymandias reaches for Waver a little too soon, his fingers only grazing the back of his shirt at first before finding purchase with the next step. Ozymandias doesn't quite throw him, but there's nothing gentle about the way he pulls Waver back, turning him around and propelling him further in the opposite direction of the Nuckelavee. As much as Ozymandias might wish to scold him for that decision to reach for his sword, but he doesn't. Instead, he only barks out a single command.

"Go!"

[ The Northern Outpost has become more than familiar to Stiles, after his repeated trips to visit Créia. Now that she’s awake and once again roaming the Wilde, no group is coming or going to her tree. It’s unfortunate; Stiles has new questions he’d like to ask her, but he knows better than to make the treacherous journey alone. While they may have thoroughly cleansed the area, Shades and nomad Monsters are ever on the prowl in the Wilde. Still, maybe if he’s just extra careful… The trichobothria sprouting from his two pairs of Arachne limbs should easily pick up on any vibrations in the air, alerting him to potential danger. That’s what he feels first, long before he hears a distant voice call out a question – the trichobothria sense the consistent galloping motion of a creature not too far away.

When Waver passes by below an impressively massive oak tree in his attempts to escape the Nuckelavee, he’ll be suddenly hoisted off the ground by human arms around his middle. With a panicky noise as the creature closes in, Stiles uses the Arachne limbs to climb them up several yards, well out of reach of the Nuckelavee. ]

Waver!? [ His voice is pitchy from his own terror. ] Wh-what the hell is that thing!?

[ Waver had been focusing all of his attention on the creature chasing him, which in retrospect is probably a huge mistake out in the Wilde, even if this area has been comparatively cleared out by now. But since he was so intent on the Nuckelavee's scent and noise behind him, Waver didn't even notice the other presence in the tree. Not until two arms suddenly wind tight around his waist, grabbing him as he stumbles past the tree. ]

Ahh!

[ Waver screams and flails briefly in his panic as his feet leave the floor-- just moments before the shrieking beast skids to a halt beneath the tree, frothing at its toothy, horselike mouth while the other continues its ungodly howl.

Stiles is lucky that Waver's not nearly as strong as most Turnskins are. And then that his attempts at freeing himself immediately fizzle out when the Nuckelavee stops beneath him, even before he finally recognizes the scent and the voice calling his name. He quickly curls his legs up further out of reach, hands clinging to Stiles's arms around him without claws now, though he might have left a couple of scratches in his panic.

Too much has happened all at once. It takes him a moment to stammer out a response, tentatively trying to look back at Stiles. ]

H-how should I know? What are you even doing up here?

Waver doesn't protest. He stumbles slightly when he's shoved, teeth bared, but then he's running again. He's already out of breath. This thing has been chasing him for some time now through the edges of the Wilde, and when he'd finally thought he'd lost it, he'd ended up accidentally leading it closer to the settlements out here. That's not what he intended at all.

Though he doesn't actually disobey Ozymandias's command, Waver starts to turn back toward the woods, leading them in another direction away from the fleeing townsfolk.

"It's just going to follow me!" he shouts over the beast's awful noise.

"Do something!"

Edited 2020-08-09 09:01 (UTC)

Ozymandias reflexively calls to Waver when he begins to turn direction and Waver's name becomes a single word filled almost overflowing with how much is within it. Reprimand and doubt for his decision. Worry for whatever unknown consequences there might be for it. A command and plea that Waver turn back and try to get back within the city where there will be greater safety in numbers. But the sound of Ozymandias' voice is likely lost. As Waver changes his direction and begins moving toward the outlying woods, his pursuer lets out another horrid screech. It is not so much a competition of volume between the two as it is the primal nature of the Nukelavee's scream seizes upon any attention one might give to anything else. It is something that is felt within the very bones of all who hear it.

Whether Waver chooses to ignore Ozymandias' implied command or if he simply does not hear it matters little though. Ozymandias begins giving chase behind them. He's not certain how long Waver has been running for, but Ozymandias has his doubts that he will make it to the woods from here. Or, if he manages to pull that off, Ozymandias doesn't believe he will be able to lose the creature out there. Even with more difficult terrain for the beast to contend with, it shall be much the same for Waver, too.

"Just keep going!"

He might disagree with Waver's decision, but it is done. It is now time to find a solution within those parameters. He lacks the time to summon another here and now, needing to focus his magic elsewhere and with more immediate results. And so, Ozymandias sends out a silent call, hoping that he is not too far from them within the city. That even if they cannot discern precisely where he is, he hopes that his sphinxes hear him and will follow it until they reach their master. But because of that uncertainty, Ozymandias makes no promises to Waver about their arrival. If anyone is to hold false hope for their arrival, he deems it not to be Waver and decides that shall only lead him to disaster otherwise.

As for what he uses his magic for rather than summoning a beast of his own, it causes shadows around it to grow thinner and thinner until they vanish but deepens those further away. A blinding, white-hot light strikes down on the earth before the Nuckelavee, scorching the ground beneath it and cutting off the beast's direct path to Waver. It manages to stop itself before it collides with the wall, sensing both the wall's solidity and heat and wanting to contend with neither. Whatever portion of the creature's mind remains equine rears and stamps instinctively, the sound of its hooves creating a cacophonous harmony to its screaming much in the way a child's fists and feet against the floor do when mid-tantrum. It recovers quickly though, turning and moving in another direction to circumvent the barrier. When its course is set, Ozymandias removes the barrier.

[ —oh. ]

[ viren's luckier; being a dragon, he's strongly-built enough that most hadn't taken to trying to forcibly rope him into dancing (that, and his resting bitch face tended to deter interaction). he sips his drink, only becoming aware of waver within the fanfare when he registers the familiar pitch of his voice.

his eyebrows arc as eye contact is made. a crueler part of him is tempted to conspicuously shake his head in denial (as some petty vengeance for their past interactions); the thought brings a smirk to his expression. but. the turnskin had thought to speak with him about inkchanted, the merits of magical tattoos for monsters. that warranted something, he can explain to himself. ]

That's right.

[ he announces, with a strong voice; viren steps forward, offers his hand out to waver. though, his tone is dry, ]

This one is with me.

[ The scratches, though deeper than they would have been from human nails, are a minor discomfort he can disregard in the heat of the moment; Stiles can tend to his arms later, when the danger has passed. For now, he focuses on keeping Waver out of reach of the ungodly beast and rider below, tarsi ripping bark from the tree trunk as he climbs up to a sizable branch. There, he gently tries to set the young man down so he doesn’t need to rely on Stiles’ upper body strength keeping him aloft. While he may be a hell lot stronger physically than he used to be due to his transformation, Stiles can’t risk slipping and dropping his precious cargo. This is a Worse Dragon customer, after all! ]

Is that seriously the question you want to ask right now?

[ His heart is slamming against his ribcage, sent into a frenzy from the sheer horror of seeing what has been chasing Waver. Stiles has never met anything like it, not even back home in Beacon Hills. ]

I was trying to see if I could run into Créia and climbed the tree when I heard yelling. But never mind that – [ A pause, Stiles cringing at the horrible screech of rage continuing to emit from the attached rider. ] What did you do to piss this thing off so bad? Holy shit.

[Hector's run into Waver during their mutual research ventures before, but this is certainly the most eventful crossing of paths. One minute, Hector was minding his own business, planting some of his chimera plants in a clearing outside of the Northern Outpost, and the next, he sees the turnskin and the flayed creature stalking him.

And unlike a normal, sane person, Hector takes a moment to just stare at the Nuckelavee and appreciate the wonder of its exposed muscles and tendons. It's truly amazing to see the anatomy of a horse in motion on this level.

But then the screaming registers, and it dawns on him that he no longer has any command over demons and night creatures. Waver's panic suggests it's not friendly, so Hector uses what he has at hand- a wereradish- and throws it at the creature's head as he scrambles to get his hammer drawn from his pack.]

Fuck. Don't suppose there's any reasoning with it, do you?

[ Yona had also wandered out to the Northern Outpost in search of more of that moss that had proven so efficient in curing the infected in the Underground. Since they were still dealing with pushing back the Red Death, she'd been doing her best to keep their healers supplied when she could. And the Ruins seemed to have plenty of the stuff in bountiful supply - even though she kept an eye on that, as well - just in case.

Not that she got that far today. Not when she hears a panicked cry and her head jerks up to see a slight figure racing away from...

Good gods, what was that thing?!

Her mouth dropping open in shock, she gapes for only a heartbeat before her hands are reaching for her bow, stringing an arrow without a second thought. ]

Run!

[ She calls out the warning to him a moment before she looses her arrow, sending it straight for the monstrous form looming far too close behind him. ]

[ For all of Iskandar's enthusiasm and his own thirst (which definitely runs a lot deeper and more frequent than he lets on outwardly...) it takes Waver a while to be cajoled into actually taking Stiles up on his offer of in-person lessons. On the one hand, it's definitely better and safer to have professional guidance no matter how many books Iskandar reads.

But on the other hand... it's embarrassing as hell? Like, really embarrassing? Especially after meeting Stiles in person and the whole awkward exchange in Inkchanted. That had admittedly scared him off for several more weeks on top of his already annoying waffling.

Finally, on Iskandar's insistence whenever his patience has worn thin enough to wrangle Waver into acting, he makes the dreaded appointment.

They show up at the shop at the agreed-upon time. Waver lets Iskandar do the knocking. He surreptitiously unwraps what looks like a small chocolate drop he pulls from his pocket and pops it into his mouth. Good thing he's figured out the dosage for the dog ~~weed~~ nip by now. ]

[ Waver is reluctant to let go of him entirely, still clinging with one hand to Stiles's arm while he tentatively lets himself down onto the thicker branch, straddling it for better balance. Waver's not exactly a fan of heights, especially precarious ones like tree branches, but being up here is a hell of a lot better than being down there.

He's panting loudly, struggling to catch his breath from his breakneck sprint and the rush of adrenaline, his own heartbeat thudding loudly enough it's trying to contend with the beast's howls below. ]

I... I have no... idea.

It just came at me out of nowhere!

[ With the adrenaline starting to fade, he feels a little sick, shaking. Chancing a glance downward at the creature only makes it worse. Waver grimaces, swearing under his breath. ]

...fuck.

[Iskandar doesn't do much knocking before opening the door. They have an appointment after all. Finally! Because he was truly losing his patience there. He almost convinced himself for some time that Waver actually doesn't like any of this. He just went with the flow because it's easy to give in to Iskandar's enthusiasm. All this stalling now is his way of not having to explicitly say no to his King.
Which as depressing as it sounded, fortunately, equally untrue. But it did put a slight damper on their fun times together. To the point where Iskandar started questioning if the workshop option actually exists and was really close to just going himself to ask and verify. He could not understand what all the handwringing was about.

But they are here now and he's curious what will happen.]

Hello?

[Somebody should be expecting them.]

[ Likewise, Stiles doesn’t enjoy heights – except during full moons, when the Sisters infuse him with a confidence he normally lacks. While he could continue to hang in midair through the firm grip that the Arachne limbs have on the tree trunk behind him, Stiles instead chooses to settle down on the branch next to Waver, close enough that he could grab the smaller man if the Turnskin slipped off. Now that they’re relatively safe, he takes the time to peer down at the hideous creature below and, perhaps ludicrously, pulls out a journal from his pocket to begin sketching the Nuckelavee. ]

Don’t worry, bud. You’re okay. [ A tarsus detaches from the tree to absently and awkwardly pat Waver on the shoulder with a reassuring air. ] If you’re feeling sick, breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. It’ll pass.

[ This is something Stiles knows intimately from the many, many panic attacks he’s suffered in his short lifetime. ]

[ As a purveyor of the strange and unusual, Stiles had taken to the “request” to instruct Waver and his partner rope bondage like a fish to water. Being an Arachne only made learning the various techniques that much easier, what with his innate understanding of bindings. So when the appointed day finally rolls around, he’s more than prepared to teach the subject to his two students – though nothing could have prepared him for the ridiculous sight that greets him as he exits the staff room at Worse Dragon: Waver, small and lithe as usual, standing next to a giant of a man. Well now. Size difference is a kink, after all. ]

Yo, [ he says in greeting, offering a little wave. ] I’m Stiles. You must be Waver’s partner, right?

[ The Arachne hurries past them, heading to the front of the shop to flip the sign to “closed” and locking the door. ]

[Stilles is met with a wide grin the moment he appears. That gets wider the moment Iskandar realizes their instructor is an Arachne. Who best to learn from that the specialists?! This is going to be great!]

Indeed, that's me. I'm Iskandar. It's a pleasure to meet you Stilles.

[He is as loud as he is big...and it's probably best Stilles opted not to go for a hand-shake.]

I'm looking forward to learning a lot from you.

[No pressure.]

[ Size difference is indeed a kink... though it's not the reason. That was just a fun discovery on the physical side afterward. But please don't mention it or he'll probably melt and die. This is difficult enough already!!

Waver skulks in after Iskandar, looking like he's trying to blend into his shadow. ]

Yeah. Hi...

[ Store officially closed for the time being, Stiles returns to where Iskandar takes up two men’s worth of space and Waver…well. Waver exists as little more than a slim shadow. Brow raised, he cranes his head and tries to catch the latter’s eye with a vaguely worried look. Does Waver actually want to be here, or is he being pressured by his partner? Maybe he can separate the two at some point before the instruction and ask. Stiles doesn’t want to be part of anything forced upon someone else. ]

Nice to meet you too. [ A longing sigh. ] I just wish we had access to books from home on rope bondage. Apparently, it’s an actual art in Japan. Pretty cool, huh?

[ Gesturing them over to the staff room, he holds the door open for them to pass. ]

I’ve got a mannequin set up in here that we can use for the upper body. Come on in, guys. Uh, watch your head, Iskandar.

[If Stiles thinks he's the only one worried here, he's dead wrong and just doesn't know it. Iskandar considers the fact that they are even here a huge success. Too often getting a definitive answer from his love is a true battle. Not one he's ever guaranteed to win and while always one worth all the effort, a battle nevertheless.]

So I heard. [Not exactly. His time in Japan was too short, he had no opportunity to acquire such knowledge.] Truly a pity. Alas, also an opportunity for one enterprising enough to recreate it here and introduce good people of Aefenglom to this art.

[Not one to ever think in small scale. Speaking of scale, who they make those door for?! Dwarves? It's not the first place that forces him to almost bend in half. The underground city was the worst so far but Iskandar has his complaints about Aefenglom's architecture too.]

[ Waver's cheeks color more noticeably as they talk. He knew... a little bit. He's probably more tangentially educated on the concept than Iskandar (at least before they started) merely by virtue of being from a more modern time (albeit not one with ubiquitous internet access as Stiles is probably used to).

He follows along, peeking surreptitiously around the shop, as though his curiosity about what it sells is something to hide and not something obvious considering he's already here.

He'll let them talk, sticking close to Iskandar, seeing as he can't think of anything he's bold enough to volunteer to the conversation at this point anyway. Of course, Waver has no idea the impression he's giving off, with his hunched shoulders and the way he keeps glancing around as though the dildos are about to jump off the wall and get him. ]

[ Now there’s a thought. Stiles would need to beseech the network for any Japanese Mirrorbound from a semi-modern era to tell him more about the art of rope bondage, but surely someone would be able to educate him further on the subject. And once Stiles has that information, they could introduce it to Aefenglom at large. Shareen, Worse Dragon’s primary owner, would no doubt love the idea. But Stiles doesn’t allow his mind to wander too far with such thoughts. There’s a reason why he’s remained in the main shop, holding open the door for the two to pass.

As soon as Iskandar manages to get through the doorframe, Stiles is throwing an arm up in front of Waver’s chest to prevent him from following.

The staff room is a medium-sized room with no windows, complete with a couch and desk. In the middle of the room a naked mannequin sits on display, while on the desk is – ]

Why don’t you get a feel for the kind of rope you’ll need to be using, Iskandar? [ he says in a normal tone, gesturing for Iskandar to approach the desk. ] It’ll need to be a specific type for Waver’s comfort.

[ To Waver, he mouths: ] Are you okay? Do you want to leave?

[ The arm suddenly thrown in front of him cutting him off from practically clinging to Iskandar's coattails startles Waver, who takes a quick step back. His attention shifts from Iskandar's back as he ducks into the next room to Stiles's faces and the apparent worry in his eyes, which confuses him just as much.

If Iskandar glances back, he'll gesture for him to go on. ]

Gimme a moment. Just choose whatever you think is best.

[ And then to Stiles, more quietly: ]

...yes? I- I mean no! Yes, I'm okay. No, I don't want to leave.

[ Fuck, this is so awkward. ]

Why are you being weird?

I’m being weird? [ he hisses softly, staring at Waver with an incredulous, wide-eyed look. ] You’re the one creeping through the store like the merch is going to bite you. I need to make sure you’re a willing participant here.

[ As Stiles settles beside him, Waver shifts his grip, letting go of his arm to grab the back of his shirt instead, mindful of the spider limbs. It feels more secure than just the tree.

His breathing is still panicky and strained, but Waver's had his fair share of panic attacks too. Despite his immediate, childish urge to argue (he has a bad habit of reading many perfectly innocent situations as patronizing), he knows it's good advice. So Waver nods, forcing himself to steady his breathing now that he's somewhere relatively safe. The spider leg tap is less reassuring than it's probably meant to be, but at least Waver apparently isn't freaked out by it.

The creature continues stamping about around the tree. It seems to have no intention of leaving anytime soon.

After a few minutes, when he can actually speak without choking, Waver seems to realize what Stiles is doing. ]

You're drawing it?

[ He sounds a little surprised, but not nearly as incredulous as one might expect. It's actually not a bad idea if they're to identify the beast later. Assuming they'll ever get down from this damn tree. ]

...ah. Thanks. By the way.

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[ OPEN ] dog days are over

OPEN: poppin' parties

OPEN: a corpse horse, of course

that pun is criminal, how dare you

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:)

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this is a great way to meet, right?

CLOSED: for iskandar & stiles.

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