come_sailaway | mood in my tomb red moon heavy [OPEN & CLOSED]

Entry tags:

mood in my tomb red moon heavy [OPEN & CLOSED]

Who: Siffleur, Daisy, Jack Bioshock and you
What: Catch-all
Where: Quarters, Tommy Bahamas and Mikabo sushi bar
When: Early November
Warnings: Violence, gore, cannibalism, suicidal ideation, aggressive flirtations & sex

1. Home Sweet Home (cabin - closed to Daisy)

Siffleur goes back to the cabin maybe twice a week at most. It’s where the shower is, which is something he has gotten used to and enjoys. He can keep himself clean, but hot water works out the knots nicely.

Someone else moved in last week. Their scent is less than human, heavy and musky, and it’s taken a great deal of restraint from him not to ruin their things. But this isn’t his place - his place is in the Tommy Bahamas and he’s content to stay there most of the time. So far, he’s been lucky enough to enter the room when the other person isn’t in.

Today, he’s not so lucky, and as he opens the door, he’s hit with an even stronger version of her smell. He grunts to himself and steps inside, closing the door behind him as he finally gets a look at his roommate.

Siffleur pauses and tips his head to the side as he gets a good look at her human shaped form. “Hmm. Shapechanger, werewolf, something else?”

2. Life Is One Long Weekend! (Tommy Bahamas - open)

Outside the Tommy Bahamas is a large posterboard and a sign-up sheet with a pen on a string, and a selection of brightly coloured armbands made from various items within the Tommy Bahamas. Block letters in thick sharpie offer an explanation:

TIKTOK CHALLENGE: SURVIVE 1 HOUR IN TOMMY BAHAMAS
MUST WRITE DOWN NAME AND TIME STARTED AND WEAR ARMBAND TO PARTICIPATE
WINNER GETS TO PET A COUGAR
LOSERS AGREE TO BE EATEN

There’s no sign of Siffleur. He’s somewhere inside, waiting.

((additional rules here))

3. Tommy Bahamas Is for Lovers (Tommy Bahamas - closed to Jack)

Somewhere, over one of the various repeating men’s sections, Siffleur is bedded down in a selection of various throws. It’s comfortable and enclosed up at the top of the shelves, and he’s about to settle into a lull when a somewhat familiar scent comes to him.

It’s the man from the aftermath of the Halloween party. He raises his head, feeling a thrum of excitement. Siffleur slinks out of his hiding spot and makes his way along the tops of the shelves and racks, until he comes across the man.

Siffleur sits and waits, watching him and deciding his best point of attack.

4. greedy little kitty (Mikabo sushi bar - Open)

A regular at the sushi restaurant, Siffleur can be found sitting on a stool at the counter with a scattering of plates in front of him and around him on the floor. As always, he sits in his cougar form, content to paw selections off the belt and lap them up before discarding the plate.

Other entering passengers may get looked at, but not for long. After all, there’s always more sushi to eat. And perhaps most infuriatingly, he’s set up at the first position, so he always gets his first pick of the best sushi. If there’s a piece you want, you might have to speak up first.

5. Wildcard

As always, DM me to discuss.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's no quicker way to get his attention than bleeding, and so Siffleur slowly emerges from his own hiding spot near the top of the racks. After a quick look around, he hops down and heads over to read the note.

Siffleur has been hoping mostly for the young and the bold to take his proposal. A fellow hunter appeals even more, especially one who seems to be bargaining on behalf of a friend. He reads it over a second time, considering what she considers to be camouflage - since he can't smell any scent coming from anywhere but the nickles - and what he would want as an additional prize.

After a moment or two, he raises his voice. "Your counter-proposal is accepted. I need no additional prize. Devouring you is enough." A pause, a consideration, and then a clarification. "That is meant sincerely, not sexually. If I lose, remove my sign and items from the front door and place them behind one of the tills. The game is only available while I am alive."

And with that settled, Siffleur quickly slips out of sight again, heading straight through a nearby rack of shirts and making his way back to the high hunting ground. If her scent will be hard to find, then he'll have to make use of his other senses.

Is it fair that Erin has a good sightline from where she lurks? No, but one must consider the situation. Big cats are generally hunted with pits and, failing that, big guns; Erin has neither available to her, and in any event she won't do her opponent the discourtesy of believing he did not think of that before accepting her offer. So she stays in place, braiding together makeshift ropes, until she has an idea of the direction the cougar has gone in.

And then longer; when the speakers play something a little louder, a little more pop-y, then Erin starts moving, trusting the music to cover what sound her boots make that she can't eliminate with careful steps. The pulse is pounding in her veins, full of the thrill of malice unfurled. No hard feelings, no tangled troubles, no careful holding back.

Just two folks tryin' to kill each other for the hell of it. Beautiful.

Erin moves deeper into the store and claims one of the copies of the Plus Sized section as her killing ground. She lashes racks together with her improvised ropes, leaving ends dangling so that she can change the terrain with just a yank here or there.

If she's not interrupted, the first sign of her position will be the sound of shearing metal as she carefully removes the top of a rack and snaps off the end with a stomp to make a jagged spear.

Followed by all the clothes sliding off it, of course.

From on high, he has a good overview of the store. Off in the far corner, he sees the shambling clothing monster making it's way towards a display of umbrellas. And after careful scanning and moving, he spots something odd among the terrain.

It's with the destruction of a rack that he sees where Erin has gone. She has made a home for herself among a display of clothes mean for the big and the tall, and she has made herself a weapon as well. Siffleur moves on his belly across a display with three child-sized mannequins, his eyes seeking out differences between this section and one of the duplicates further down.

The racks have been moved ever so slightly, and there and here are pops of white and colours that do not match the other section. His tail swishes slightly. Siffleur has seen many traps in his day, but he has never seen one quite like this. It's not cold steel in the leaves or a snare, not the false-call of a hunter pretending to be an animal. This is different, and he tips his head, judging if it's meant to tangle, or meant to serve as an alarm.

He creeps towards another display with men dressed in cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirts, standing around a BBQ. If he tossed something, he could discover what the purpose is. But the cracking of his bones might give him away...

A distraction is needed. And so he places a paw on the BBQ, pushing it to the lip where it totters. He drops down to the floor and takes shelter in a display of surfboards.

And only when the BBQ loses it's fight with gravity and falls with a loud and terrible crash does he change himself partway, snapping and tearing himself into a form halfway between human and animal.

Erin freezes at the crash, pointed ears twitching in that direction. If this was a normal cat she would already be lunging that direction, but cats don't write signs or agree to interesting extra bets, do they? For the first time it really hits her emotionally that this opponent is going to be more cunning than the Hedge fauna she's been comparing him to; she acknowledges the mistake to herself with a nod and fades away from her killing ground, keeping it between herself and the noise.

What to do? For the first time Erin finds herself wishing the blindfold didn't let her see objects at all so she could simply pick out her fellow hunter, but no use crying over spilt milk. For large animals she might consider a noise trap if she still had her eyes, but Erin needs to hear as desperately as her opponent does.

(But we don't need to let him see, do we? Not when we blend in with the outfit selection. And, getting better, the fires have been turned off again. So...)

Oh that's a good point, me. Cats have good night vision, but still.

Erin stays on the move, letting the racks shroud her. A mental conversation with Mirrors changes her skin color to match the mannequins here, ghostly and pale the same way they are without signs of life...

And while she changes nickels begin ringing out. They ricochet off the floor, ping off of racks, whip against displays, all heading up high to pierce the lights in the ceiling and short them out in blinding flashes of sparks and arcing electricity.

Siffleur carefully takes a hanging off one of the racks, dropping the shirt on the floor and awkwardly holding it in his twisting hand-paw, his eyes looking out at the section again. If he throws it just right-

Then there's an explosion of sound and light, and all of his body shivers and shudders as he forces himself to stay still. His eyes dart this way and that, tracking the explosives- no, not explosives. Coins. The nickles. They don't smell like blood this time - they just slam through things like bullets might, breaking glass and lights and knocking things over.

He hunkers down in the display of nearby pants, staying low to the ground to avoid being hit and hurt. It's ingenious and terrifying - here he thought the real worry was the knife and whatever trap she's made.

Siffleur waits to see if the nickles will run out before he runs in blind. He's an animal but he's also human, and it's the human side he clings to now as he forces down the dumb animal panic threatening to overtake him. His pawhand keeps the hanger gripped tightly. It offers little in the way of defence, but it's better than nothing if Erin has spotted where he's hiding.

Fear. The taste of terror and confusion in the air does absolutely nothing to help pinpoint Erin's prey but the rush of the harvest bolsters her confidence. She circles, head turning this way and that out of habit, stepping with the beat of the music and throwing every time she pauses.

(Take out the rest of the lights, Peters.)

Nuh-uh. The store is endless, remember? The fixtures might be authentically cheap but the effective range of the nickels drops off fast. This twilight zone will have to do.

She chances crossing an aisle, heading towards a better sightline of the grill display and its environs. Destroying the lights as she goes.

Edited 2022-11-10 03:44 (UTC)

The nickles don't stop. And then there's motion - Erin moving across an aisle, going quick, surrounded by the bits of hot, fast metal.

His body aches. This midway transformation can't last long. The pain will force him to pick one side or another. He drops the hanger and lunges up, both hands grabbing the middle of the rack. Siffleur twists, using all his combined strength to launch it down the aisle Erin's crossing, the rack going end over end, clothing flying everywhere as it rolls until it smashes into the first thing it encounters.

And while it rolls, he hunkers down and skulks from rack to rack, making his own way to the grill display as well, dodging nickles and broken glass best as he can. The fear fades fast, shut off at the source like a tap as he moves into survival hunting mode, and there's no room for anything but the need to kill.

He moves to flank her, and to find an opening worth exploiting.

Another crash. If her opponent is on the move it can only be towards her; after all, the challenge is still in effect. It's on him not just to win but to do it in the time limit. Erin flicks the nickels between her fingers and stomps on the other end of her makeshift spear, destroying the last cap of the rack and giving it two points. Nothing to grab onto if she needs to push it in deeper, but...

(Let's be honest, we have maybe two stabs with this thing max. This shit is what, tin?)

Buddy, we wish it was tin.

Erin moves cautiously. It's a bit of a gamble; with the blindfold she essentially has eyes in the back of her head in addition to, you know, working ears, but Erin's not exactly been shy about explaining that to people either. Her opponent might know, but if he doesn't maybe she can bait a lunge...

Her opportunity comes when the music changes over to something softer. Erin steps and then curses under her breath, as if her audible camouflage has been compromised.

She's in the open, but she's got a piece of sharpened aluminum pipe in her hands and no matter how much she might look vulnerable, he knows she isn't. The nickles, the trap she was setting that he hasn't seen yet - it's all proof that she's dangerous.

The music shifts, and there's the opening. He could wait, just in case this is a feign, but even a false opening is still an opening. Siffleur takes the gamble and he lungs in, seven feet of tortured muscle, patches of skin and fur, and far, far too many teeth in a jaw not meant for them.

His pawhands catch the makeshift weapon, and she has only moments to glimpse the monstrous half-man before that too-full jaw lunges forward to close on her flesh.

The bite catches Erin mid-turn -

(Oh that's a therianthrope -)

- Thank you nerd brain NOT NOW -

As she reacts to the change in air pressure. A not-insignificant part of her screams that she bet wrong, she's about to die, but the rest is pulling her knife and stabbing for leg meat the moment she feels the spear move in her right hand. Siffleur's jaws close on the space around her head and those teeth are stopped by a flickering field of pale green energy, like leaves in the high Spring.

Ruby had said a few big hits.

How much is a few?

(And for that matter what's big? That jaw force is no fucking joke.)

The stab is clinical; into the thigh, out through the meat, a ripping motion with the wide blade of her survival knife. Erin takes a gamble on how much person versus animal is present when she snarls, "Got you!" with all the repressed malice of her heart. If this cat doesn't let go to reassess it's about to be a race to the death...

The knife tears through his leg, and though the pain of the blade blends into pain of his half-transformation, the red-hot sensation of being stabbed does not. He feels that burning heat and the wet drip down his thigh, and understands in a moment that he is dying - and he is dying fast as well.

It isn't about surviving now. It's about the race to kill her first.

Instead of flesh between his teeth, there's something green and flicking, something that tastes like nothing and has kept her delicious flesh from his reach, a crime far greater than any knife to any part of his body. Erin is all teeth as well, gleeful in victory and he tears the makeshift spear from her grip. With his blood dripping down his thigh, he stabs the spear into the green flicking shell, aiming to shatter it under the force of his jaws, or to pierce it through and her as well.

(He's stronger than we are.)

He's off-balance is what he is. We're escalating!

Erin might not know exactly how this new power works yet (note to fucking self, shake Ruby down hard for those lessons) but she can see the teeth sliding. The makeshift spear can only be what it is, cheap metal; it imparts the force of Siffleur's strength and then bends under that same force. Erin takes the chance to grab his wrist, step into his body, and take them both down to the ground.

(It's cracking, he's gonna get us -)

That's fine. We did cheat a bit.

Claws scrabbling to get her ribs. Erin stabs for the shoulder joints, old instincts taking over where reason has failed; attack to disable, take the target alive -

(Peters!)

The Aura shatters like glass, shards silently flickering out of being, but the head voice's warning gets Erin back in control of her own knife hand.

When his teeth sink into her shoulder, Erin's next stab finds his temple, and she sheaths her blade in his brain like returning the sword to the stone.

A dozen teeth sink deep into the flesh, leaving a nightmare bite mark not welcome at any dentist's office. But before his jaws can start to fully close and threaten to break bones along with tearing flesh, there is a sudden stop to his thoughts as they are forcibly interrupted by cold hard steel.

The body spasms, teeth tearing at the flesh instead of sinking in deeper, and his weight barrels forward on her, the chimera of Siffleur collapsing along with his synapses. Breath leaves his lungs last, his heart stopping it's functions as his brain no longer sends the constantly invisible signal to function, and then all there's left is a still-warm corpse with a pool of blood leaking out from underneath it.

It's a good death. Siffleur isn't here to appreciate it, but once he wakes up in the morning, he will consider it an excellent (if somewhat unfair) fight.

The pounding rage and adrenaline makes Erin twist the knife to be sure; she's breathing hard when she finally rips it free, chest heaving, blood from her shoulder soaking her top. That's gotta get treated like...now.

But not before the necessities can be seen to. Erin checks Siffleur's pulse and, when she finds none, climbs off of him. She makes a shroud for the body out of clothes from the racks.

"...Damn good fight," she manages, through the pain. "Thank you for being a good sport."

(...Was he?)

Guess we'll see.

Erin pulls the armband off and makes her way to the entrance. She stashes the sign and armbands as she was instructed before making her way to the infirmary with all due haste.

-------------

Near 11 AM the next day, wounds treated (Erin avoided Tendi for this one, opting instead for the mess and fuss of stitches both thread and liquid; her body won't scar, but her opponent deserves to see that he got his hits in), Erin shows back up at the Tommy Bahama with two plates, both full of a mix of meats and sushi as fresh from the ship's supplies as they can be given the journey. She's back into her more usual outfits now, including her saber and knives. Erin walks in a good fifteen feet before she sits down, sets both down, and pushes them away from herself.

"Back at it, hunter?" she calls out in a hopeful voice. "I was hoping for a chat, I gotta imagine you've got questions and I'd love to meet the mind behind this idea."

There is a flash of something in the distance, and then faintly, the crack of bones.

So what walks out to join Erin is not a cougar but a man dressed in a flannel shirt (sleeves a might too short, so he's rolled them up) and a pair of jeans, his bare feet silently padding over the faux-wood floor.

"No hunt on today, but I am always here." It's clear from the smile on Siffleur's face that he's pleased to see Erin return. He comes to join her, sitting cross-legged in front of the offerings - and truly his favorite thing about having befriended Nobunaga is that people simply bring him food now. It's no small wonder that smaller cats spend so much time with humans. Being fed is a pleasure he has not grown tired of.

He takes a piece of sushi and eats it. "That was a very good fight, but you didn't tell me everything you had on you. But then, neither did I."

"I didn't," Erin agrees pleasantly. "But in my defense -" she gestures at her current set of armaments and lets that be the end of the sentence. Her head cocks in a birdlike motion as she takes in the hunter's human form.

"Circumstances meant I didn't get your name before. I also suppose I should ask, before anything else, if you consider the wager valid still, in light of the circumstances."

(Uhh. He agreed?)

...My good me, even if we'd made that a Pledge not everyone is a fucking fairy princess. Thank you and shut the fuck up.

"I'm Siffleur. And yes, the wager is valid." It does not even cross his mind to go back on it. What would be the benefit of that? Even if he insisted it was his right and he had been cheated (and he did not feel cheated in the slightest), it would do him no favours. He had agreed to the fight, and they had both concealed skills. "Your shield was a surprise, but I felt it give way and I tasted your blood before it shattered, so it was a matter settled by luck and skill, not a matter that was impossible to settle."

He brings a knee up to lean on it. "I will need to meet Helena Adams to know her shape and her scent. You can bring her with you sometime if you wish, or I can come to your room if she would feel safer there."

Siffleur reaches for the meat, taking a piece of that to chew on. "And I would like to fight you again in the future. You were clever and bold, and I enjoyed the hunt."

"I can't promise when that might happen. My loved ones may not be as understanding of a repeat performance." Erin flashes a rueful smile before holding one hand up to indicate a height. "Helena is about this high, dresses very neatly. Polite, kind-hearted, and, not to put too fine a point on it, is blind. She navigates with a cane. I don't know her very well yet but given that your sign isn't in braille I wanted to cut off all possible future misunderstandings at the root. Hence the wager; for that matter, hence my loved ones tolerating it. It's been ages since I went on a proper hunt and this one was...very unusual for me."

And yet the gunpowder haze around Erin is making little spear shapes. She had a lot of fun yesterday too.

"Hmm shame, but understandable. A partner's wants are not easily disregarded. Though I remain confused by everyone's shyness. Death is meaningless here. I spent so much of my life fearing the end. Now it's little more than an inconvenience." He shrugs - humans will be humans, no matter what. And though he's expressed his confusion, he isn't trying to change Erin's mind. She has her reasons for what she does, just as he does.

And her quest to spare her roommate makes a great deal of sense. Siffleur chuckles and nods. "I see. A wise choice then, for I would have hunted her the moment I knew she was blind. I offer the game as an alternative to satisfy my desires, but I am still a cougar, and I will always feel the need to stalk prey. Your loved ones should be proud of your ingenuity."

Siffleur nods to her blindfold - and to the little gunpower shapes around her face. "You see quite clearly despite the cloth on your face. Is your sight magical? Or are your other senses heightened?"

Erin beams at the praise. Some part of her wonders if that's odd but after that rather intense discussion with Johnny it's nice to hear her skills validated.

She touches the blindfold. "This replaces some of my vision. Only some; most objects are like watercolor, blurry and indistinct, lacking in detail. A lot of my tactics yesterday were an attempt to bring you down to my level. Setting up the racks so I could baffle your sense of direction, killing my scent, dressing in clothes from the store. When you didn't take the bait it really hit me that I wasn't dealing solely with an animal. Hence the lights, so I could get the initiative back. You're hellishly fast though, and I'm used to hunting in a team where I can pose as bait."

Interesting - her vision is limited, but he would have hardly known. She's adapted wonderfully. "You were doing very well. I didn't get a look at the trap you were making, but I was pleased to see you using the environment. Many hunters make the mistake of thinking that they can bring all their tools with them, and that a chemical scent will be enough to disguise them."

As Erin has learned, Siffleur is not purely a cougar anymore than he's purely a man. He's glad to have this acknowledged and he nods towards her in quiet delight. "There are few who have seen me in my inbetween shape and lived. As demonstrated, it has many advantages. But it's too painful to maintain, even after all this time... My mother could hold it for over two hours, while I struggle to hold it for longer than half an hour."

A question comes to mind. "Is Helena not able to gain a blindfold like yours? Or does she prefer not to see?"

That gets a (socially) pained hrmmm noise. "The magic I deal in isn't...by blood, but it's..."

A great deal of incorrect words come to mind. Erin props her cheek against her fist for a good think.

"My people aren't the only things with access to it. Animals changed by it can learn it and speak in the tongues of men." And are very annoying. "Goblins and their ilk can use it, the gods of nightmare are so bound to it that they can barely be on Earth. It shies away from others. Even if I had the materials and skills to make another, which I'm not sure that I do on either count, it would take a price from her for just being human. Her hearing maybe, her sense of taste, bad dreams. It's hard to predict, and with the other obstacles I haven't offered. I don't even rightly know why she's blind. I had my eyes removed but for all I know Helena may have been born blind."

Edited 2022-11-10 09:27 (UTC)

The very moment she mentions there's a cost (material and otherwise), Siffleur nods. "No point in giving up one sense for half of another, not unless you have no other choice. Better to keep what you have. And this place seems as safe as anywhere to be blind."

Yes, he's seen the destruction, the senseless mass murders and attacks at the Halloween party, but this place is also always the same shape, same number of people as a small town, and no true threat of death. It is safer than anything else he's ever known. And judging from Erin's own combat abilities, and all the weapons she wears on her now, she must know that as well as Siffleur.

"I would not say I am happy to be here, but I am not unhappy either. I miss the forest, but I do not miss my fear of death." And he tips his head in her direction, a clear 'and you?' if there ever was one.

Erin makes a little noise low in her throat. There's a note of frustration amidst the thoughtfulness.

"...I do wish it was...different. Better able to accommodate hobbies, art...I'd honestly cut an ear off for like, a steady supply of wood to whittle at this point. But I think. I'm okay with it? It's not like there was nothing I wouldn't change on Earth if I woke up empress of that shithole, and I love Earth just fine. This has been a fresh start, a chance to really work on myself. Terms and conditions apply but when don't they?"

Siffleur sighs and nods. He's never known any part of life to come without some expectation or consequence. "I do not miss working. It was the worst part of my time as a human. But everything cost money, and I had to provide for my offspring, and theft is difficult to maintain for long. I like that I can take what I want here and do as I please. Shame about the wood though, nothing whittles like it."

Which brings to mind a question he's idly had for a while since chatting with Johnny. And since Erin seems to know more about this place, he asks her point-blank- "Has anyone gotten pregnant while on board? I know there's a child on this ship, but I assume she was brought here like us."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject