Crystal Exarch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crystaltower) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tabularasa_rp2021-02-24 02:58 pm
crystaltower) wrote in tabularasa_rp2021-02-24 02:58 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Crystal Exarch and YOU
What: Overgrowth versus Secretive Secret Keeper of Secrets. In other words, Grandpa has a problem.
Where: Merlaut Apartments/Mortis Lake
When: When overgrowth is a thing that happens, with prompts for different stages. Will match brackets or prose to whoever tags.
Content Warnings: Body horror, emetophobia, fear of death, and spoilers that are nearly two years old.
Feverish - Merlaut Apartments Lobby - Morning
Not another dizzy spell... the Exarch, meaning to head out for exploration, exercise, and continued documentation on the ever-changing nature of the Void finds himself hit by a sudden wave of dizziness and has to reach out to support himself on the nearest object to save himself from falling over. Well that's not a good start to the day! And if he's not mistaken, this wave of dizziness is significantly worse than those experienced the past few days.
...it'll pass, he's sure. It will pass, and then he can go right back to ignoring the fact he is quite definitely ill. He has never been one to let a little fever or fatigue or a bit of discomfort in his chest stop him, even if it does have him wondering how in the world he has become ill to begin with.
He remains leaning against the pillar for several moments more, until he feels that the wave of dizziness has passed. A few steps towards the exit, however, only causes another to hit him, and with nothing close enough to reach for this time he allows himself to drop to his knees, hand instinctively going to his chest as it aches. Oh, dear... perhaps this isn't really the best time to be wandering out into the forest. Lyna wouldn't let him hear the end of it, if she were here! A strained, wobbly smile crosses his face as he recalls how his adoptive grandchild always pushed him to rest, and he tries once more to get back to his feet, wavering far more than he would like. Is he even going to be able to get back up the stairs?
"Just this once, perhaps to bed..." he murmurs to himself, glancing up as he spies another person. "Ah! Forgive me, but might I ask your assistance? It will take but a moment!"
Flowers and Pain - The Lakeshore - Evening
There is no possibility whatsoever that a habitual workaholic like the Exarch will tolerate such an essential thing as rest for very long. Being cooped up indoors feels more like a death sentence than whatever this is. Fever, pain, dizziness, and coughing up the occasional flower petal isn't quite enough to make him want to remain in bed - if anything, he wants to be outside, with the fresh air and the cool wind on his flushed face.
Does he regret his venture outside, when the pain radiates out from his chest and he has found himself coughing more than simply the occasional purple petal and instead brings up entire flowerheads? A little, perhaps. At this point, even he would seek the aid of a chirugeon if he could.
He must be dying... but what is he to do about it? Every time a thought occurs to him he finds himself driven to distraction by the pain and this racking cough that brings up one bloodied purple flower after another. His coughing fit shakes him so much he barely registers if someone approaches him, unless they draw attention to themselves.
Pierced Through - The Lakeshore - Morning
Even should someone drag him away from the Lake, he finds his way back there eventually, his perch upon the rocks a favourite spot of his. By now the flowers have spread enough that they have pierced through his skin and through the front of his robes, bloody vines and thistles coiling around him. The pain is such a familiar companion by now that he has found himself able to stubbornly bear through it as long as he remains still. Even the painful cough is agonising.
He can't think. He hopes that remaining still and bearing through the pain like this will perhaps allow him just a moment of clarity, just a moment where he can think of some - any - action he might take.
He'll die here. The past hundred years will have been for nothing. The First will end. The Calamity will set the world on the path to ruin... and all he can do is stand here. After all he's done, he has nothing to show for it whatsoever.
What: Overgrowth versus Secretive Secret Keeper of Secrets. In other words, Grandpa has a problem.
Where: Merlaut Apartments/Mortis Lake
When: When overgrowth is a thing that happens, with prompts for different stages. Will match brackets or prose to whoever tags.
Content Warnings: Body horror, emetophobia, fear of death, and spoilers that are nearly two years old.
Feverish - Merlaut Apartments Lobby - Morning
Not another dizzy spell... the Exarch, meaning to head out for exploration, exercise, and continued documentation on the ever-changing nature of the Void finds himself hit by a sudden wave of dizziness and has to reach out to support himself on the nearest object to save himself from falling over. Well that's not a good start to the day! And if he's not mistaken, this wave of dizziness is significantly worse than those experienced the past few days.
...it'll pass, he's sure. It will pass, and then he can go right back to ignoring the fact he is quite definitely ill. He has never been one to let a little fever or fatigue or a bit of discomfort in his chest stop him, even if it does have him wondering how in the world he has become ill to begin with.
He remains leaning against the pillar for several moments more, until he feels that the wave of dizziness has passed. A few steps towards the exit, however, only causes another to hit him, and with nothing close enough to reach for this time he allows himself to drop to his knees, hand instinctively going to his chest as it aches. Oh, dear... perhaps this isn't really the best time to be wandering out into the forest. Lyna wouldn't let him hear the end of it, if she were here! A strained, wobbly smile crosses his face as he recalls how his adoptive grandchild always pushed him to rest, and he tries once more to get back to his feet, wavering far more than he would like. Is he even going to be able to get back up the stairs?
"Just this once, perhaps to bed..." he murmurs to himself, glancing up as he spies another person. "Ah! Forgive me, but might I ask your assistance? It will take but a moment!"
Flowers and Pain - The Lakeshore - Evening
There is no possibility whatsoever that a habitual workaholic like the Exarch will tolerate such an essential thing as rest for very long. Being cooped up indoors feels more like a death sentence than whatever this is. Fever, pain, dizziness, and coughing up the occasional flower petal isn't quite enough to make him want to remain in bed - if anything, he wants to be outside, with the fresh air and the cool wind on his flushed face.
Does he regret his venture outside, when the pain radiates out from his chest and he has found himself coughing more than simply the occasional purple petal and instead brings up entire flowerheads? A little, perhaps. At this point, even he would seek the aid of a chirugeon if he could.
He must be dying... but what is he to do about it? Every time a thought occurs to him he finds himself driven to distraction by the pain and this racking cough that brings up one bloodied purple flower after another. His coughing fit shakes him so much he barely registers if someone approaches him, unless they draw attention to themselves.
Pierced Through - The Lakeshore - Morning
Even should someone drag him away from the Lake, he finds his way back there eventually, his perch upon the rocks a favourite spot of his. By now the flowers have spread enough that they have pierced through his skin and through the front of his robes, bloody vines and thistles coiling around him. The pain is such a familiar companion by now that he has found himself able to stubbornly bear through it as long as he remains still. Even the painful cough is agonising.
He can't think. He hopes that remaining still and bearing through the pain like this will perhaps allow him just a moment of clarity, just a moment where he can think of some - any - action he might take.
He'll die here. The past hundred years will have been for nothing. The First will end. The Calamity will set the world on the path to ruin... and all he can do is stand here. After all he's done, he has nothing to show for it whatsoever.
no subject
A grunt and she felt the grind inside of her while she looked him over.
"You're under a crapload of pressure all the time, aren't you?" she was looking right at him. If he was trying to get closure, she could try and help him get that closure. And that felt like the sort of thing he really hadn't addressed at all in a while.