this is fun and we have fun here

[spelleton]

Catchall post for "fucked up sad dead ghosts" AU

This is a catchall for whatever we decide to do here since it's cleaner just to keep all threads in one post for easier reading and also sadness.

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[spelleton]

[ The pain of being alive, for a given value of alive, is potent and excruciating. It's a mercy that what few fragments of him are still conscious are numb.

It's a miracle he still remembers anything outside of the red-hot jumble of agony his soul has become.

(It fragments and pulses with desperate energy, a fractured web of nerves tangled up inside themselves. Mangled and raw like the patients he had worked on a lifetime ago.)

But he remembers - something of himself, at least. Enough to follow, enough to use his new powers to defend the person he once tried to protect, in some attempt to make up for what he already failed at once, and that is mostly all. He never speaks, unless the shriek of tortured metal and a once-human voice is speaking.

He follows Avery like a macabre shadow, just watching him when there's nothing else to do. The behaviour is a little like a creature that seems to have no concept of object permanence. ]

[subconmodo]

[There are days that Avery can't even bring himself to look at Ekkehardt, at what he's become (off what he's made him to be). He knows he's there, following behind, loyal even in death for a reason he can't even begin to fathom anymore.

Other days he forgets, tries to spark up a conversation, banter like they used to, only to end up disappointed in the end.

Today is somewhere in the middle of the two. Or maybe he's just talking out loud to himself.]

I'm starting to wonder if we should build a fence. Not to keep people out, of course. I just want to see how many people will climb over it anyway!

[Gruesome and terrible as it is, as it always ends up being one way or another, he always fins himself looking forward to the appearance of a wayward traveler. It's a nice little moment of not quite feeling so alone. It's an even better snack.

Any guilt he should feel about the strangers' deaths fell away easily, perhaps too much so. Perhaps even enough to cause concern. Maybe that was just what not being human anymore was all about.]

Not that I know how to make a fence. Can't remember if you ever had to either.

[spelleton]

[ So far, words have fallen into that endless, swirling darkness he seems to be mostly made out of. They're received with nothing but silence or, occasionally, a rare and flickering moment of what could pass for consciousness in a dim light. A tilted head or a stare that doesn't seem as torturously numb as usual.

Death, too, is something that he might have once cared about in the ashes of his former life and self. Now it's simply a matter of protection, or occasionally feeding - and he does seem to be steered by some impulsive hunger, now and then. He doesn't toy with them, he kills quickly - but a life taken is a life taken.

The words seem to have no impact, as usual. But rather than stare uncomprehendingly, as is his usual response, he...

He just slashes a line in the ground, claws dragging along with the unpleasant sound of chains being drawn taut.

He etches a few more lines, vertical ones to go along with horizontal.

It does sort of look like a fence.

It's not really a reply, or an answer, or anything much. But it's activity that doesn't seem to be driven by whatever discarded feeling is roiling inside him today. ]

/uses prince icon because apparently i need to draw a serious surprise one

[subconmodo]

[Avery stares down at it, mouth hanging open, and his heart twists and tightens with the faintest shred of hope.]

Yeah.

Yeah, that.

[He sounds like a fool. Very erudite, Avery. Super expressive. Good job.

He eyes Ekkehardt for a moment, then snatches up a somewhat thick branch, breaking it in half over a knee. ]

This is probably too thin to work.

[He sounds almost distracted, playful tone vanished]

Pretty sure the posts are supposed to be more like logs, right?

[He tosses the broken branch up into the air, letting it spin once and catching it. Once. Twice. The third time it hits him in the head.

He curses under his breath, rubbing the spot, an eye trained on Ekkehardt.

He waits--hopes--for dry mockery to follow]

sometime in the past

[spelleton]

[ Once upon a time, long before any incredibly unfortunate and ultimately violent misunderstandings or any indication that such things would exist in their shared future...

A small boy in a mask is reading a book underneath a tree, and completely ignoring anything happening in his vicinity. There's some kind of commotion nearby - someone important has arrived, he vaguely recalls this - but...

...the book is more interesting to him right now. ]

[subconmodo]

[Avery hates these get-togethers. They're long and boring and mostly consist of him sitting around listening to adults talk about a bunch of things he doesn't care about but is told he should. Everyone coos at him and tells him how big he's getting and acts like they care about him for a whole half a second before immediately trying to suck up to his parents.

It's annoying, but at least he has his mask on so he doesn't have to smile for them all.

They've started talking politics and economics and all sorts of other "ics" that don't involve magic are thus completely boring to him when he catches sight of a boy his age over by one of the trees on the grounds. He's not doing anything special, and that alone has managed to catch his attention. Usually people are throwing other kids at him, telling them to become friends, but this kid isn't even pretending to care.

Avery makes sure that the adults around him are caught up in their boring conversation before he slips away and heads to the tree, his shadow falling over the open book as he leans over the other boy.]

Whatcha reading?

[spelleton]

[ He doesn't expect anyone to come bother him, and so he looks up when someone's shadow blocks the light falling on his book.

...

He doesn't really recognise this child (more accurately he doesn't recognise the mask), so he must be new around here. Ekkehardt resorts to his usual tactics when meeting strangers, which is politeness. ]

It's a book about healing magic. [ Most children who grew up in this kingdom had some kind of magical aptitude; it's not an uncommon thing to know what form their power takes, even at a young age. ] The big spells are kind of complicated, but I think if I read it more I'll get it.

[subconmodo]

Woah, you can heal? That's so cool! You wouldn't need anyone's help if you fell or anything!

[And, most importantly, this kid would never ever have to sit through a lecture on not doing anything fun or cool like Avery had. He's a little jealous. More than a little.]

TALK TO EACH OTHER YOU ASSHOLE LOSERS, CLOSER TO CANON EDITION

[heartchained]

[ He's been in a lot of situations over the centuries, some of them confusing or otherwise strange.

This one is probably the strangest one he's been in yet, as well as the most embarrassing.

It's weirdly spacious in here, somehow, against all laws of physics and logic, but the door is locked and no amount of rattling or shouting or asking politely or trying to break the door down is working.

Not that he's trying very hard.

Eventually, he slumps into a corner, awkwardly trying to look anywhere but directly at the other person trapped in a closet that somehow is far bigger but feels far smaller than it actually is. ]

So.

This is new.

[subconmodo]

New? That's all you have to say about it?! This is ridiculous! Humiliating! I don't even know what she's going for!

And how the heck does she have this much room in her closet and only one outfit?!

[heartchained]

It's...different for aliens, perhaps?

You seem to have quite a lot to say about it already, so I don't think I need to say much of anything. Which sums up what we've been doing for the last few hundred years, in any case. [ he mumbled slightly bitterly with a slightly bitter expression ]

[subconmodo]

We're locked in a closet in some kid's spaceship, Ekke! Yes! I'm annoyed!

[He'd throw his hands up in the air if he was sure there was enough space for it]

I don't even know where this idea of hers came from!

welcome to subcon don't enjoy your stay

[heartchained]

[ It's yet another one of Snatcher's future victims. (He's come to think of any ''visitor'' he doesn't recognise as that.)

She'd fallen from the sky, though, which is enough to pique his interest. And by 'pique his interest' it means 'lurk ominously in the woods and stare'.

He's not bothering to hide himself. He means to be seen. So Hat Kid might glimpse a pair of glowing red eyes, or a four-legged shape moving in the distance (usually four legs). Occasionally he's close enough that his mask - similar to the Dwellers, but not the same - can be spotted in the gloom.

He paces, or stands and watches her run about. Entirely silent.

It might be REALLY CREEPY, ACTUALLY.

But if she dares to approach, he won't move. He's not skittish. ]

[hattersgonnahat]

... [Kind of wondering how long she can just ignore the reddish shadow lurking behind. Perhaps the longer she doesn't acknowledge it the faster it would go away, considering all she can tell it was doing was watching. If it was a threat it probably would have attacked by now. Keyword being 'probably'.]

[But just in case...]

[The kid suddenly went higher up into one of the trees, a little too skillfully even. It was...just a strategic move to see more of the dense, creepy forest. Totally not so that the shadow would stop following.]

[heartchained]

[ Oh, she's noticed him at last. Or perhaps she was just trying to ignore him. He can't tell, and truth be told, he doesn't particularly care.

It might not be his forest in the same way it's Snatcher's, but he can traverse it with ease, if he so wishes. He bounds up into the trees, tail hooking into the notch of a lantern as he perches on a branch.

Still there. Still watching. But closer, now. The red-tinted shadow studies her, unblinkingly. ]

[hattersgonnahat]

[It's still too dark and murky to find that very specific 'shine' she was looking for. But at least she was away--]

[...Ahem.]

[Okay, maybe not.]

[It might be even more unsettling that the shadow was not only closer than before, but she did not even hear it moving. Going to just...keep going then.]

time rift depression nap

[heartchained]

[ After all the chaos this new visitor had caused, he'd felt...

Well, he always feels tired, once excitement wears off. But this child reminds him of older days, memories he'd locked away for some reason or another. All she'd done and stirred up is achingly familiar in a way he can't entirely describe.

So he hides himself away, and falls into slumber - hibernation. And part of himself - those locked-away memories, leaks into a time rift, and forms something else.

The mask, she'll find familiar. The rest of him, though, looks...very human.

In this strange place, he's not asleep. The first time she might see him, he's watching her from the rooftop of one of the treetop houses - expression impassive but curious.

He won't speak until she makes some indication she's noticed him, though. ]

[hattersgonnahat]

[This was all such a pain. It's bad enough that she had all those other chores to do (and then got backstabbed after finishing, the nerve...), but there was still her own mess to clean up. ...Which really wasn't her fault at all and the fact she had to fix it was really just unfair.]

[Either way, she eventually found the shattered hourglass and the strange, time distorting substance leaking out. Once inside, nothing looked that much difference from the outside.]

[Who knows how much crazier things will be once reaching the bottom though, and the kid better hurry if she wants to get there soon. Although...there was that feeling like she was being watched again. She curiously looked up to find it.]

[...Okay that is definitely someone the kid's never seen in this forest before. She would have definitely remembered running into a human...not counting the really scary lady in the manor. But it does take a little more time to notice anything that was familiar. ...Wait a second.]

-! Hey! [She wanders closer beneath the tree, to get his attention.]

[heartchained]

[ He glances down at her. He makes no indication of coming down yet, but he's certainly listening. ]

Hello.

This is an odd dream. Why are you here?

fun with reincarnation

[spelleton]

[ The mask he's working on is familiar to him. Almost too much.

He's certain he's never seen this before;

(a hazy, ancient memory of a village he's never set foot comes to mind unbidden; he remembers not the mask, exactly, but the person who wore it - the sound of their voice, the old words left indistinct)

almost certain.

(it's a mask he's seen every day of his life--) ]

Hmm. There should be a few extra protections on this.

[ He doesn't know how he knows that, only that he does. ]

[subconmodo]

Huh?

[He's barely been paying attention, watching the brats play with a pain that's dug itself deep in his chest, settling there like a leaden weight. He hates it, especially given how positively useless it is to him, but it's there all the same.

How he really, truly wishes that the younger version of himself would just leave already]

Uh. Yeah, probably. I haven't seen that thing in ages, obviously, so I probably forgot about a few of the wards.

[spelleton]

Mm.

[ ("--you cracked it? You're lucky you didn't break your nose...you're so reckless--") ]

Reinforcement first.

[ He's talking to himself, more than anything, as he inscribes the runes on the outside of the mask.

He doesn't really notice, then (because it makes sense to him) that those two words are in a far older version of German than he should know. ]

the punchline is they both die, wait that's not a punchline

[heartchained]

[ They both know he's not long for this world. In that sense, she doesn't do anything worse to him than what she's accidentally done already, which is probably nice of her, considering the circumstances.

Accessing the dungeons is more of an accident than anything else. He was torn about it, really; he could probably just die on the floor (ruin the carpet part of him says, and he'd laugh if the ice currently crystalizing around his heart didn't make it hurt to laugh, or breathe, or do anything) and it would be...not fine. But acceptable, perhaps.

But it's so cold here, inescapably so. It threatens to freeze him solid, trapping him forever, and it terrifies him to die that way, without an inch of give or fluidity.

He doesn't walk down the stairs so much as fall down them. The wall catches him, and it hurts, but everything hurts, so what's one more?

Ice grinds in his chest, painfully; warmth seeps out of him once again, staining clear to red. His breath feels like it's freezing in his throat; it's the only reason he doesn't cry out in pain. He doesn't have any breath to spare.

Avery is here somewhere, isn't he? He should go and see him. While he still can. He might be able to do something, still.

It hurts to move and to breathe. It's still warmer down here than it was in the hall, so he bleeds more freely than he would have otherwise. Most of it soaks into his clothes; if they weren't red before, they're starting to become a shade of red now.

His footsteps, labored, echo on the stone; it's so loud. He feels loud, and clumsy, and numb. He feels like he'll probably slip on his own blood at some point, and wouldn't that just be dignified.

Not that death is dignified. It never is.

He keeps going. He's fairly certain it's not far, that the corridor isn't this long, but blood loss makes everything harder. ]

[subconmodo]

[It's dark, even with the torch for company.

He doesn't understand why she's doing this. Why? What had he done? Did she hate the flowers that much? Did she hate him?

He thinks she does sometimes. It's the only way things make sense. But then she comes down to see him, something about her dark and twisted and wrong, her smile off, her eyes red, and she fawns over him, coos and sweettalks and strokes his head and face just like she used to. As if he want chained to a wall.

One time she came down with strawberries, tried to feed him with a kiss, as if they were a normal couple on a date. He'd begged her to let him go, to seek help for herself, to acknowledge that this wasn't right. She'd just chided him as if he were a misbehaving child and went upstairs, leaving him alone down here with no supper. The next day she added more chains.

He can't hardly move his fingers anymore.

Avery looks up when he hears footsteps. They don't sound like hers. Not quite. There's something... heavy, clumsy(?) About them.]

Vanessa?

[Avery's voice is hoarse, rough from screaming for her, for help, just to scream.

For a moment, he worries she's injured. He doesn't know why. She'd deserve it at this point.

... Wouldn't she?]

[heartchained]

[ He'd tried over and over to convince her to let Avery go. That it wasn't what she thought it was, that she was wrong.

For all the good it did. He should have just stolen the keys and let him out. She might have killed him anyway, but at least Avery would have been free.

It's dark, but it's not hard to navigate. Warmth creeps back in, the closer he gets; ice relents, and he doesn't feel like every breath is an effort.

Of course, he'll bleed out faster. But he'll die warmer.

He almost considers turning back, or sitting down right here and letting things take their course. Hearing Avery's voice reminds him of just how much he's failed. Surely it's more merciful not to be near him, to not make him watch his slow death.

He can hear ice behind him and above him, crackling, gnawing at the walls.

He wishes he could hide what happened to him, but the ice ramming through his chest and conspicuously out his back is something that he doesn't have the strength to break.

He coughs as he inhales warmer air, struggling for breath. It sounds awful. ]

Just me.

[ He limps to the wall, or tries to.

He doesn't quite make it there. His legs give out before he makes it all the way, collapsing him into a sitting position, and he feels like it's unfair at this point. ]

Sorry.

[ Like that makes this any better. He can't bring himself to look at him yet. ]