Foster van Denend (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
criticallyfucked) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lostcarnival2018-04-10 03:46 pm
criticallyfucked) wrote in lostcarnival2018-04-10 03:46 pm
Entry tags:
[ALSO Closed]
Who: Foster and Tyki, later Foster and The Man Gongenzaka
When: D34
Where: Lakeside
What: Foster raises an abomination of a squirrel at Gongenzaka's request.
Warnings: Foster, animal death, self-injury, the creation of an undead squirrel-man.
This is the second time Foster's been asked to do this. Not this specifically, of course, but 'this' as in the creation of some sort of... made-to-order necromantic test subject for soul-based magic. If he counts Herbert's secretive experiments (and he's trying not to think about that, how directly he contributed to his own present misery in physical form), that's three. He can't help but feel a little like he's being taken advantage of, but he can't quite put his claw on why. Maybe it's just that he knows he's really meant to be used in a more literal fashion.
He's never tried to put a body into this particular shape before, and he's not stupid enough to do it by the barn, so he's brought the squirrels he's trapped (three of them, just in case) up by the lakeside, where his magic can be worked undisturbed... and mistakes are easily disposed of.
When: D34
Where: Lakeside
What: Foster raises an abomination of a squirrel at Gongenzaka's request.
Warnings: Foster, animal death, self-injury, the creation of an undead squirrel-man.
This is the second time Foster's been asked to do this. Not this specifically, of course, but 'this' as in the creation of some sort of... made-to-order necromantic test subject for soul-based magic. If he counts Herbert's secretive experiments (and he's trying not to think about that, how directly he contributed to his own present misery in physical form), that's three. He can't help but feel a little like he's being taken advantage of, but he can't quite put his claw on why. Maybe it's just that he knows he's really meant to be used in a more literal fashion.
He's never tried to put a body into this particular shape before, and he's not stupid enough to do it by the barn, so he's brought the squirrels he's trapped (three of them, just in case) up by the lakeside, where his magic can be worked undisturbed... and mistakes are easily disposed of.
no subject
There's a yawn, a creak as something inside stretches, and finally a hand that emerges to drag himself up into a sit. He grins lazily and absently scratches into his hair as his neck tilts to the side for a defining crack and pop. He looks down at what Foster has on hand and lifts a brow gently, "Come to play, Foster?"
no subject
He's in the process of drawing that all-important circle in the earth when Tyki rises--he's practised enough to freehand... er, free-claw it, but is using a mop handle as a compass, and it's with that planted in the ground as leverage that he jerks back upright, mud on his claws and front knees.
He identifies Tyki before he actually speaks, but there's still a wary ring of white around the blue of his eyes as his shoulders square back carefully.
The squirrels, transported in a trio of buckets, can be heard scrabbling against the wood inside.
"Hahaha... not play, no." He glances down at the wiggling buckets, then back up to Tyki coolly. "But I guess it's not strictly my job, either."
no subject
He lets himself slide backwards until a heel hits a rock jutting out of the ground. Moving himself onto it he'll cross his legs and rest an elbow to knee, hand to cheek in a relaxed manner. He's lowering himself as a threat with no interest of learning and only observing.
He follows Foster's gaze towards the buckets with a raise of a brow. If it wasn't his job and he wasn't here to play or practice then he had to be here for someone else. His head turns away even further to scan the area for any wayward souls lingering about, "I won't interfere."
no subject
But that's no safeguard against the kind of instinctive reactions people have about most of the things Foster knows better than to give weight to, like how human something looks. He has no memories of the magic club demonstration at all, which isn't uncommon for him--but even if he did, it wouldn't put his mind at ease. So he regards Tyki for a couple of moments, like he's measuring something about him. Finally,
"I can't stop you," is what he says out loud, with a smile like he's apologising for something.
And he lowers himself back down to the muddy ground, ignoring the squirrels in their lidded buckets while he draws out his patterns in the earth.
oh boy
A natural poison, mind, which begged the question of whether or not the whole matter of 'undeath' would interfere too heavily with that in the first place. (Hopefully Foster had some sort of work around for that).
Regardless, he is coming toward the lake, and...almost afraid of what to expect when he reaches the shoreline, honestly.
no subject
No one would ever know about the Akuma if he had any say about it. There were things he would never reveal even to the most trusted people. Some would figure it out on their own and he was fine with that. Most of the time he didn't understand Foster anyways and he allows him to return to his work in the mud.
But his smile twists into something of a wide grin at his words, "No, no you can't." It's confident, in charge and bold the way he says it. "I just want to watch."
no subject
The bad news is that it's not immediately obvious where it is.
Foster himself is only visible when Gongenzaka is close enough to pick shapes out against the lake itself. This is because he's waded a couple of yards out into it, stopping only when he's reached water deep enough that it rises above his knees.
He's more focused on the water than Gon's approach, possibly because he's bent over it, one arm rotated, palm-up, and extended under the water's surface. His elbow is above water, but most of what's below it is not--depending on how close Gon chooses to get, he may be able to see what Foster is doing:
Watching the seeping red haze of his blood as it joins with and dissipates into the cool, still water.
He looks... peaceful, actually.
no subject
He is about to end up immensely disappointed, Probably.
no subject
Then again, why does he need to?
He's in control.
He will get no more commentary or eye contact from Foster until he's finished with his circle and its smaller inside--there are several criss-crossing lines as well, forming a rectangular shape that actually breaks out of the circle's boundary. Does Tyki know who da Vinci is?
It doesn't matter, maybe. This is Foster's interpretation of something he remembers, very vaguely, from his time in grade school. And given he stopped attending school at the age of twelve--
He pushes himself up off the ground, paws and knees muddier than ever, and stares down at his handiwork with critical expression and lidded eyes.
But at last he's satisfied.
He glances to the three buckets, their live contents scrabbling around audibly.
And he glances at Tyki.
"Have a preference?"
It's not clear whether he's being serious or not.
no subject
Down in the mud and covered in it seems to add to Foster's outward look and he'll lick over the edge of his teeth at the taste of the apple before responding.
Tyki himself seems satisfied and the wide grin is growing, "Whichever one is the most alive. That one should die first." Sometimes it is easy to tell if Tyki is teasing or not. Right now is not the case.
no subject
The most alive....
Mmmm.
He contemplates the trio of pails, silent for a minute. The biggest struggler is likely what Tyki means. But whether that's the most alive is a different matter...
Well, he definitely remembers which squirrel put up the most resistance at being transferred from trap to tupper, so to speak.
He walks over, his long legs a lot more graceful at a walk than he looks like he should have in him, and bends to push his claws in under the lid of the rightmost bucket. Immediately there's a flurry of scrabbling and scrambling from inside, tiny nose and tinier claws jamming themselves desperately into the opening.
He positions his paw over the gap and pops the lid.
It's a near catch, actually, and he only manages to snag it by the hind end, so its front half hangs free, flailing its arms in frantic bid to escape.
And before he can grab its front--
It bites him.
It bites him, perfectly-sharpened yellow incisors burying first in fur and then, at least on the top of its bite, directly into the exposed pad of his ursine palm.
It hurts, of course. But he doesn't even flinch.
He laughs.
no subject
He loves to watch that fight just as much as he enjoyed participating in it. Foster will notice how focused Tyki is, almost distracted by the way it scratches and bites. He'd enjoy killing something so lively but animals didn't give him nearly the same satisfaction as a human. The emotion was there even if the feeling wasn't.
Foster laughs and his grin threatens to crack Tyki's lips. You freak. "That one will do."
no subject
Foster takes his time, fully absorbed in the dissolution of blood into lakewater, the calm, clear surface clouding with red becomes pink becomes brown becomes cream--
He's already washed off the mud, so it's just the blood now, the wound that will not, of its own accord, heal itself, but if Gon is patient enough, Foster is aware that he's there.
He's just... coming down, as one does.
But eventually he's done, and he moves, slicing his claws through the still lake as though breaking a spell--or leaving one last mark on the water's surface--and lifting his other arm, palm up, to watch the hallowed mixture of blood and water run out between his fingers.
Then he makes eye contact with Gon, and smiles, and waves.
TW: Graphic animal death, necromancy, body horror
But though Foster didn't show it--there was no shiver, no illuminating sound or ripple of muscle--there is for him a certain feeling, something in his chest(s) that soars in response to the simple pain of having been bitten. Minor though the injury is, it brightens everything, elevates him just a fraction from his lowly starting place, drops him harder, further into it, and though his enjoyment of it doesn't blind him entirely to Tyki's own pleasure, it is certainly more occupying within the actual moment.
But he does notice.
He notices, and ignores it, superficially, turning instead back to his geometric circle, crossing the distance in two strides of a canter, the squirrel's teeth out of his paw now, and just in time.
He practically tosses it into the centre of the circle, still living--still moving, and scrambling, and almost but not yet running. It never gets a chance for that.
His hooves come down after it, three-toed weights of no few hundred pounds landing squarely on the animal's back and skull. The sound of fracturing bone is audible, the wetness of soft tissue and raw internal pieces separating, and he steps back, his front legs popping up off the ground again to land outside the circle--tracking a gory remnant blood and fur, but he doesn't need every hair.
"You! Hypocrite lecteur! – mon semblable, -mon frère!”
Last time Tyki watched him work, the spell took longer, the results were more discreet. This time he's prepared a more elaborate framework with less speaking and more symbology. So that's all he needs--
Just those seven words and the knife, and a new cut in his arm spilling a fresh spatter of his own blood into the spell's boundary.
The squirrel, still moving with its final postmortal spasms, begins to shift. And bulge. Something larger is becoming out of its broken form, rising as though from under its torn flesh--but within its trampled body, it's spreading, growing.
What is nearly a human face appears, just for a moment--
no subject
He actually blinks a bit from surprise when Foster does turn, and waves. Was....
...Was that not part of-
Well fine. He nods, greeting the other. "I, the man Gongenzaka, see that you are ready then," he announces, not entirely sure how else to start the conversation.
no subject
It's again, just like the first time, that Foster seems to be enjoying himself and without Herbert here to stick his nose in where it didn't belong the other was free to express himself as he saw fit.
His eyes drop towards the squirrel as it descends into madness and with a quick footwork of Foster's hoof landing on it, he stares in delight at its no doubt painful death. It's too quick for him but then again it was just a squirrel. He snorts gently and waits with his chin lifting out of his palm at Foster now speaking.
He's aware just how far he's leaned forward as his tail sways at his side with a hint of enjoyment. His brow does raise higher at the contortion and the nearly human face that appears. Well then, this was different from last time.
no subject
"I'm done, if that's what you mean."
He waves again, this time demonstratively, as he begins to wade up towards shore. Wet and dark with it, his every bone is cast in sharper relief, and he looks positively moribund--
Though Gon has no way of knowing it, he's called the squirrel back already--it simply has yet to arrive. After the raising, he'd let it loose in the woods for a while to figure itself out (he really just wanted to get it out of the way), but he can tell it didn't get all that far.
"Are you ready?"
It's not a spurious question. Given Gon's blatant squeamishness about the whole thing--
Well.
He had better be prepared, because there's an incoming abomination in three...
Two....
Oh god I rolled a 9 for this squirrel, tw for body horror
Not this spell, anyway.
It's only a minute or so, maximum. But the effort is extreme, and the results are...
Well.
The squirrel--or "squirrel," perhaps, at this point--swells and warps and bulges; hairless palms sprout from paws, flabby arms grow wider and longer, a wet red tongue forming in the shifting expanse of its furry face, a mouth lined by human teeth--
It's not inhuman in silhouette, honestly. Wet, blinking green eyes and a humanlike torso give it an appearance that could be mistaken for human, were it to be spotted in the shadows.
In the broad daylight, however, it's far worse than abomination.
Even Foster--his first wave of euphoria having crashed, though not quite draining from him his immediate high--can see that much.
It would be hard not to, really; the skin on its naked belly is so thin and translucent that the organs inside can be seen behind the veinous membrane, albeit through a bit of a distorting layer. But it's still clear enough for them to take shape not just as shadows but bearing colour and form.
"... haha... hahaha! Haha. Wow. Gross."
squish
It's interesting the way it twists into something out of the ordinary or how it looks almost human if it wasn't for the estranged changes and the lack of any discernible features. It was more monster than squirrel now. It's disgusting, a word he's come to associate with Foster now a days and he sneers at the commentary to agree.
"Was this your intention?"
to be fair to gon-squirrel is much smoller than person so...
...Only to blink as...It? Comes out?
In Gongenzaka's mind, it looks a bit like an enormous lemur, complete with over-large eyes. The main differences include such things as the very rodent-like teeth, and certain features in the tail, the odd and awkward hunch it tries to hold itself to, and...
Gongenzaka's response isn't disgusted, but it is certainly curious, if only because it actually takes a moment before he catches the scent of what the hell it is. "MNH-! A squirrel!" he observes, finding himself impressed despite the source. There is still the smell of death after all...he cannot ignore that.
Still. "...Considering what you told me, regarding your experience with humanoid forms, you have done a rather impressive job, if anything."
wat
TW: Death of an undead.... thing.....
"... No." But that's why he has three of them--or had three of them, he's going to be down to two in just a second. He doesn't even bother to wipe his blood off the knife--it's still flowing fresh out of the back of his arm, soaking into the dense, semicurly blond fur.
He steps forward into the circle and sinks the blade into the meaty part of the thing's back without any change in his strangely mild expression, and the Thing doesn't resist or even shudder; it just drops, dead (again) before it hits the dirt.
Not any more it's not
While Gon can only see the incisors right now, the rest of its teeth are actually uncomfortably human; the squirrel kept those distinctive rodent gnawers, yes, and there's a small gap on either side of them, but instead of a full diastema, it's followed by human canines, then molars and even premolars--the better to fill in its new forward-facing primate-style skull, maybe.
"Anyway, will this do?"
eyyyy
Hopefully things weren't. Wasted. (It's really just unpleasant to think too long on that, so he moves on)
"This should do fine; what is left, is the matter of poison. Given that it is the first attempt on my own behalf, minor ailments were something I, the man Gongenzaka, felt best to practice healing... ...naturally however, with regard to what they are or are not susceptible to, I must look to you."
In other words, just what kind of poison...Will affect a dead thing?
no subject
It's why Tyki watches carefully as he answers, then eliminates it all together. It's quick, a little disappointing, and soon enough it is no more than a dead body on the ground. Disposal should be easy enough and if Foster discards it well, he could.
"Well, I suppose it is good then that you have two more," comes his instant reply.
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"Anything that doesn't drain... mmmm, let's call it vitality. Ha ha. Anything but that should be the same." He pauses, tilting his head at Gongenzaka. "It is a soul, after all."
However, since he can pretty readily assume by now that Gongenzaka doesn't know anything about necromancy:
"There is no... limit to that kind of thing in a corpse. Energy, stamina, all of that... depends on some specific balance relative to the expenses required to remain alive. A dead thing doesn't manufacture energy, and it doesn't expend any."
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"I'll need to remove this one first. It's in my circle." Foster has no sympathy for dead things--nor for undead ones. It's not really surprising, considering what he does, but it's rooted less in practical matters and more in the lack of sympathy he has for himself.
Or is it the other way around?
Either way, this dead thing is in the way now.
It's too big for burying, or leaving in the woods. Too humanlike to tow to the barn. There's still a couple of options, but the more a circle is used, the less stable it becomes. So that eliminates a couple of them.
He steps back decisively and walks to the side of the lake, searching for large stones.
no subject
He makes a noise in his throat as he gestures to the side, "If you mean to speed this along, simply leave it aside and I will take care of it later." To which he means his babies. He's not being helpful as much as he's ensuring his own personal means of gaining more numbers of them. Wismuth had been a place he had lost a lot of his own pawns.
He's not expecting Foster to trust him, but then again, he barely knew Foster at all.
no subject
Then his eyelids drop, just a couple of millimeters--and it changes his whole expression immediately.
"How ominous," he notes, picking up another stone. "But I don't have til later." His voice is still bright, light.
He turns, his furry arms full of large, smooth rocks, and dumps them in a pile off to one side before coming back retrieve the wasted squirrel. Foster isn't... strong, really, and his lack of visible muscle mass is evidence of chronic physical neglect, but he is big. And under the fur on his arms is a layer of muscle he's earned from months in the labour department. He wraps his claws around the corpse's distended stomach and hauls it up to his chest, its head rolling morbidly along its weak shoulder. He doesn't appear bothered; he simply drapes it over his (equine) back to carry before returning to the water's edge--where he unceremoniously dumps it off into the mud.
cw; bugs, devouring, corpses
Well, if he's going to be impatient about things he may as well impose his own will upon the other.
"Tease," he responds, his lips part softly as he speaks. Commanding and devious are his words. More than thirty Tease emerge from behind him into the air and sweep past him towards the Foster and the corpse. They are a hungry swarm and starving all the same. Food is food and they are ready to feast, "No, not him. Only the corpse. It's a quick correction as they deviate from the live meal towards the wasted squirrel. They are smothering it in a blanket of beating wings.
no subject
"HaaaAAUUUU.... ...Well, if energy and vitality are the only limits, then certainly something that inhibits physical aspects should be testable..." the cat immediately notes, before blinking toward Foster. "And hello to you, I suppose... ...I don't suppose you have a suggestion..." Marishi, being the part of Gongenzaka who is a bit less strict on their personal core, isn't doing much to hide any annoyances they may have with Foster.
If anything, she's probably absolutely inclined to test him wherever she can.
Oh boy.