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middaeg2019-11-16 05:36 pm
battlebound) wrote in middaeg2019-11-16 05:36 pm
Entry tags:
[ open ] wenn man nichts im kopf hat wozu werden helme gebraucht?
Who: Steak and OPEN
When: Throughout the month
Where: And throughout the city / outside the city
What: Quests to be done, general havoc to cause, etc.
Warnings: Steak is an impulsive idiot. Also full moon horrors.
1β out of the city; combat
2β out of the city; resting
3β many man's trash;
4β full moon;
5β wildcard;
When: Throughout the month
Where: And throughout the city / outside the city
What: Quests to be done, general havoc to cause, etc.
Warnings: Steak is an impulsive idiot. Also full moon horrors.
1β out of the city; combat
[ This is nothing new to Steak, not simply because he was here last month, but because β as anyone who has had the poor fortune to speak to him will probably know β he was built for this. His kind exists to do this, though there are those who aren't quite as attuned to the thrill of battle as Steak himself is. Even without his signature shield, without the flames he can produce as his swords slice through the hair, he moves through a fight as easily as his signature element would tear through woods and forests.
Red Wine is somewhere else at the moment, fighting something else, and while a headache has been plaguing Steak for days, neither of these things slow him down β if anything, he seems to push himself harder, arms burning from the effects of prolonged battle.
It's fine. He's fine. This is what he's made for, after all. And this damn headache β the one which stems out from the base of his horns, where anyone who isn't a complete stranger will notice that they've begun lifting away from his face and curving back, pointing to the sky rather than in front of him β is not going to change that.
Red eyes glance sharply to the shape to his left as the beast shifts in that direction. ] Move!
[ Whether whoever is there defends themselves or runs, he doesn't mind, but if neither happen, he's already darting forward to try and block the oncoming attack. ]
2β out of the city; resting
[ But not everything can be fighting. Even if Steak, by all rights, does not need to eat or drink, he still needs to rest. He rolls his shoulders back as he stretches his arms above his head and groans β a hot bath would be excellent right now but there's still work to do.
Well. When he gets back then. For now, he strolls up and down the outer city street, tired but unwilling to properly still himself just yet. As he comes across anyone from the group, even despite the obvious signs of battle, he straightens up and nods in greeting. ]
Do you need help?
3β many man's trash;
[ Another day, another job. Steak may find his greatest purpose in battle, but these little things around the city are just as important. He doesn't quite understand what the greater context of this late year cleaning is, but cleaning up the city can only ever be good for the residents of it, so his acceptance of this job is without thought or question.
He's quite happy to tidy up the mess in the poorer districts, moving pieces of junk into boxes and hefting those boxes away with the kind of ease granted to an unaging magical construct, even going to far as to hum under his breath as he works. All is fine.
... Or, at least, all is fine until he catches a man brazenly tossing more rubbish into a spot he'd just cleaned. Irritation which has nothing to do with that continuous headache (nor the itching of those strange patches of cow hide hidden under his jacket) flares up as quickly as a bull seeing someone waving a cloth around.
What the hell are you doing?!
Unfortunately for this man, and everyone in the nearby vicinity, Steak is the type to say something if he sees something, and confused indignation answers Steak's demand, which does nothing but frustrate him further.
If you're feeling particularly kind β or perhaps just fed up β maybe it's time to step in, while Steak explains to this bastard that the street is not is personal rubbish tip.
Or maybe you just want to put a few coins on Steak getting punched before the day is over. That's fair too. ]
4β full moon;
[ By now, the changes can't be ignored. He hides the hide patches which find little spots on his shoulders and the back of his neck with his coat and top, but the horns are impossible to ignore. He frowns at his reflection in his mirror at the house he and Red Wine use, at the way they now curve back from his skull, rising into the air.
(He'd appreciate the extra height it gives him over his bastard fellow knight if it didn't look so wrongβ)
In and of itself, these new, bullish traits, feel more like a terrible joke. Some way to further his point that he is the Food Soul representing Steak. In and of itself, he can almost live with the patches of hide he disguises, or the screeching headache of moving horns.
But then the full moon creeps closer, and the patches slide further down his body, against hipbones and legs, itching and raw as his skin transforms into slick, freckled patches which glisten under light and dry all too fast. He grimaces as his trousers scrape against the soft new flesh, each step through the city bringing this unpleasant new development to the forefront of his mind.
He doesn't realise how long he's wandered the city aimlessly, biting his tongue and avoiding people, until the night descends, the full moon bright and every transformation itching and aching. His hips burn with the sharpness of sudden growths, tentacles twisting and turning their way out of his body with such speed he doesn't even notice his legs buckling until it's too late and his hands are clawing the ground, dirt coating his fingers, burying itself into his fingernails as fabric tears, barely audible over the screeching protests of his body.
He gasps, forehead pressed against cold, damp riverbank, and his new appendages reach for the water, for their home and something in Steak roars in protest. Quite audibly, too, as he tries to grasp for the remnants of what he's always known. He is Steak. He is a Food Soul. He isn't meant to be an abomination like this, with tentacles and horns and a thirstβ
A whisper he's never had to worry about, one which quickly becomes a shriek;
Just give in.
He forces himself off the ground with a roar, with a clatter of his swords as they dislodge from the nest of new limbs and find themselves discarded in the soil, and finds the trunk of the nearest tree, hands beating against it, drumming out a tuneless call to anyone nearby.
There's something here. ]
5β wildcard;
[ got something else you want to do? feel free to hit me up at isanghae#8071 /isanghae and we can work something out! ]
no subject
Nn... [ Of course Red Wine comes to mind, but how could he possibly ask her to let that jerk see him like this, weak and in pain, and halfway to being the kind of monster they would normally kill? ]
Nobody.
[ The lie comes out clipped, short, lips pursing shut tightly before he can fuck it up by talking more. He never was a good liar though, and the bright moonlight means that his darting eyes β avoiding all contact with her own β are much more visible than they would normally be at this hour. ]
no subject
I see. I should probably contact the Coven in this case, I do not think I have the strength to carry you to your house myself. Where do you live, by the way? Maybe some of your neighbors would be able to help? I could contact them instead.
[He was not telling the full truth, was he? But he was in no condition to be pressed about it]
no subject
He'll be grateful for her pressing later, when he's thinking right. But right now it's just catching out his lies and making him admit the truth.
The Knights of the Holy Sword β all of them β were never good at hiding things after all. ]
... There's someone at home. I don't want to see him right now.
no subject
Why donβt you want to see him? Are you not on good terms?
[Oh, thatβs... not really something she should stick her nose into, right?]
If thatβs what you want, I will contact the Coven instead. They should be able to patch you up a bit
no subject
That... sounds good. [ The Coven isn't an ideal place, because he's still not sure what he thinks of the whole thing, or whether he fully trusts them, but they'll know more about these transformations than anyone else.
So. Yes. Let's do that. ] Thank you.
no subject
Just try to hold on for a little longer... and someone from the Coven will surely come and pick us up.
no subject
The pain is one thing, harsh and aching throughout his entire body despite the transformations being localised to his waist and his skull, but it's the way it drags at his mind, as though wanting to tear it apart.
He's lived two hundred years sure and certain, never worrying about what he might become, and nowβ
He wonders if this is what it's like to Fall. ]
... What's your name?
[ It's blurted out more because he needs something to grab onto during the wait than anything else.
A distraction. Something whole. ]
no subject
Itβs Marie! Marie Antoinette...
[She skips the royal titles as well as her Class name. Nothing like this really matters here, after all]
When the full moon is over and you feel better, you need to contact me somehow! Come over for tea, coffee, maybe other drinks? Promise me you will do that?
no subject
Steak. [ And then there's a nod. ] I'd... like that.
[ Okay, he doesn't like this whole growing pains thing, can he go back to being unchanging now? ]
no subject
I will be waiting for your message, Steak!
[And with that, she wipes the sweat and dirt from his face again with a fresh piece of fabric]
You better not forget...