terriblepurpose | Deer Country Contact

[Not for Falco.]

No. Why? Is everything all right?

Oh. Yes, I just wanted to talk with you. I've been studying a lot lately, and I had a teacher accept me as an apprentice.

[ the fact of the matter had been, that, innocently, falco just wanted to share his brand new macaroni piece and straight A report card, and hopes that paul will be delighted to hang it on his fridge. ]

Have you been all right?

That's very good. Who are you studying under? Are you enjoying the lessons? (Is Confetti helping?)

[Paul is definitely delighted. If he knew about the concept of gold star stickers, he'd be affixing one to a chart right now.]

I'm doing well. My projects are coming along, and I'm happy about that. But we should do something for you to celebrate. I could stop by later?

Mister Nehan! He has cat ears and I just finished The Circulatory System this week. I think I'm going to start learning potions soon.

(Confetti is helping a lot, he even reminds me of bedtime.)

[ on top of the strange ability to yawn and close to immediately make the boy sleep. the egg is being a good little brother too, and is worthy of his own gold star—! ]

We can share projects when you do.

The name sounds familiar. Tell him I said hello, will you? And that if anything ever happens during your training, he can reach out to me. What kind of potions are you excited to learn? (He's a responsible little egg. I hope you're listening to him.)

[Paul is already throwing on an outfit suited for travelling, and he should check-]

Is there anything you need? We have extra supplies.

[ it's kind of unfun to say "all of them", so he does square up a specific one he's taken a peek of—! ]

Green potions. They'll have magical properties to heal people, just like Confetti. [ s-surprise? confetti is magical. half of him would like to ask for milk, but falco decides to narrow things down to actual needs. ] Do you have extra paper?

That sounds like it will be very useful. If you need anyone to test them on, I volunteer. I'll bring some.

[True to his word, when Paul shows up at Falco's cottage about an hour later, he comes with a sheaf of paper nestled in his rucksack along with a few other supplies, including a bottle of milk. Falco doesn't need to ask for some things anymore.

He's smiling as he comes up the front path, his steps lighter than they usually are. The depths of winter and the murk of early spring well past, Paul is somewhat restored to himself. Things are finally beginning to break his way, and he's glad to be able to share that with people that matter to him.

He knocks on the front door in a rhythm Falco is probably familiar with by now and waits, adjusting the straps of his pack as he does.]

[ falco has stationed his study spot in the living room, at a desk that used to be in his room, making it much easier to attend to visits and offer a safe spot for confetti to play. as such, it was easy for him to gather anything that has scattered itself is put into a pile, making room for his much-awaited guest. when the door swings open, falco is the first to spring through the crevice to embrace the older boy's waist. ]

Welcome back.

[ giving room for him to enter, the cottage is as neatly organized as always. water is being heated in the kitchen. the living room coffee table is set with two plates and two wooden mugs, while a bowl of mushy formula remains sits next to them. the desk next to the couch is stacked with papers of hand-drawn anatomy (not falco's, nor his handwriting) while a notebook next to about four vials of dark green are in the process of being labeled. some of the first loose pages are gruesomely stained with vileblood splatter, and are being redone on clean sheets. ]

[Paul catches Falco in his arms with easy familiarity, clasping him close with a fond grin at his enthusiasm. If it falters when he sees the bloody papers, it's restored before he lets go and steps inside, unshouldering his pack to produce his gifts. There are the promised papers, a stoppered bottle of precious milk, and a brightly painted wooden ball he bends to set on the floor, among other things.]

You've been studying hard. [He observes, approvingly, coming back to Falco's side to ruffle his hair.] Good. It's important to be diligent even away from your teachers.

[ falco’s chest swells with brief pride and his cheeks turn a greener hue— at least he’s not actually sick but feeling humble fluster rising to his ears and making him feel warm. he’s being praised, what was there not to feel good about it? not only praised, but given an extra gift. who knew a container of milk could make a kid so happy, share such a splitting grin? paul’s midsection is promptly wrangled to squeeze again, and at their feet . . . a familiar little round egg approaches!

confetti had its little arms held up, but when it saw the ball . . . attention heavily diverted! we all apologize to paul for getting ditched because round. ]

I want to learn as much as I can here. [ and to confetti, falco bends down to hold him around “hips” if he had them, juggling his hold on the container of milk against it, just before reaching the ball. ] Can he play with that?

Of course. I asked for one too big for a little mouth.

[Paul may or may not have gone to read a book about toddlers, on the grounds that it couldn't possibly hurt. Most of the rules for keeping young living things well end up approximately the same across species: warm, fed, sheltered, and kept away from hazards.

Falco's tender attentiveness towards Confetti sends a fond thrum through Paul's chest for just that reason. It all comes so much more naturally to him than it does to Paul, an instinct for caring that he's glad is being nurtured.]

Why don't you tell me more about it? Everything you're learning. Maybe I can pick up a few things from you too - what do you think?

[ confetti is released to wreak havoc on the ball, and the affection is promptly exchanged for a different reason, different care. paul may not see it, but thinking about a toy for the little egg that was also safe was lovely and sweet.

enthusiastically, falco turns his back only to gather the more relevant papers and a vial. he hesitates on the stains, but figures he can avoid unpleasantries— especially with this finding! the couch is the perfect spot to guide them to, placing the milk canteen on the coffee table in front of the cushions and sharing the loose pages in his lap. many diagrams, drawn pictures next to blocks of notes, arros, and directions on how the heart works step by step. ]

A lot of anatomy . . . But this one's the most interesting.

[ the vial of vileblood— his blood, is held out for taking. ]

[Maintaining his composure is a matter of careful practice. Paul knows he's a hypocrite to have qualms about the shedding of blood for a cause, when his is so often spilled. Knowing this doesn't change it.

He is especially careful when he accepts the vial, conscious of its precious cost.]

I know some anatomy myself, if you ever want a study partner. [Falco has seen it in action, if only in a terrible nightmare of memory.] I don't know nearly as much about blood. What's the most interesting thing about it?

[ a daring and frightening memory that would lead to one of the more horrifying moments of falco's life— and that was saying something. with it past them though, and no physical scar to ever mark him of it (the same can't be said about mentally, but,), the boy is quick to focus on the presence now with him regardless of the time some months back without him. it just made him all the more certain of how much he was loved, and how much he wouldn't bare to lose him again.

plus, he's earned a study partner of the highest degree. ]

Well— [ something more akin to pride splits his lips apart in an uncontained grin, so proud and absolutely happy about this finding (despite, again, how he found out): ] This one heals. Vileblood is poisonous, but when you put this on a wound, it closes, [ he offers a rolled-up sleeve to gesture to an arm that, considering his age and former occupation, should be thoroughly nicked, scraped and bruised. he is none of those, nowhere. ] like I do.

[ he doesn't know if that's a reason or even a possible theory to consider— but the fact had been that it worked and was far from harmful. and if he could quell the look of worry there, too: ]

—And don't worry, I took it out the safe way.

[Around Falco, Paul is first and foremost in his role as friend and protector, but that doesn't mean that the other aspects of himself are completely gone. He holds the vial up to the light with objective interest, especially after the reassurance of Falco's closed arm and promise of safe practices.

Even he can admit he's sometimes overprotective. He's seen what Falco can endure, and he's training with a healer. He can accept the offered mollification, with a rueful little smile of acknowledgment at Falco's efforts.]

A blood shift? [He speculates.] I'd guess that your blood is stronger than most's, and easier to replace. I should bring you more milk, though. For keeping your strength up.

[Which is the only reason, and not the way Falco's eyes brighten when he sees it. He lowers the vial, an absent line of thought emerging like a trailing strand of web, one he can brush aside for now.]

Have you helped many people with this yet? I bet they were very grateful.

I've helped some!

[ the reason was horrible, but the result of it lead to . . . this discovery. that by no means tries to replace the error and the problem, but— he's hopeful in resolving it. or at least, getting close to a solution. the praise almost feels like too much to accept— stronger than most? does that alone earn more milk? he's a whole shade of deep green, here, humbled and flustered.

regardless, falco reaches over to squeeze paul's fingers over the vial he holds. they were limited to the month he farmed them before his blood went acidic and hazardous. they were always checked before being labeled too, all of the ones with healing properties have a + on them. regular vileblood is separated by a -. ]

This one's for you. [ a healer in a pinch, if paul is ever harmed, facing someone harmed and was without a healer. ] And you can always come back for more, if you want. I'm going to check every month in case there's more.

[ it sadly doesn't help with pollution, but at least it helps in death and injury. ]

[Paul folds his hand over Falco's around the vial, squeezing back, though with a measure of caution for the glass in his hand. The flush of green almost quirks his smile towards amusement, but he keeps it in check.

He doesn't know when he went from seeing Falco's openness as a vulnerability to seeing it as a strength of its own, precisely. He does know that he looks at it now and never wants to do anything to curb it, no matter how slightly.]

If Paleblood ever turns out to be useful for more than jewelry and visions, I'll be sure to return the favor. [He shrugs, fluidly, with another quick squeeze.] Or, more likely, I'll keep looking for things that can help you.

[He disentangles them to slip the vial into a pocket, into one of the specially stitched slots he's added for exactly this purpose.]

Thank you for this. I'll be careful with it. [] And I'll try not to need it for myself. I promise.

I'd hope you wouldn't, but . . . [ it's not realistic to say that he'll never need it. it's truthful hoping, but falco has always tried to be prepared for the worst, even if he wanted the best. it was dangerous to think, and more of an opening toward tragedy and failure. ] We never know.

[ but falco appreciates the try greatly, which meant that paul was promising to practice self-preservation. he's not one to really talk when his emotions are high, but— he knows he tries his best in that regard, too. ]

Actually, um, [ it's just a thought, and maybe that meant he should study up more on each blood type other than what transfuses well with what, ] can Paleblood be used for . . . Insight? Do you know?

[The question gives Paul pause, enough so that he presumes to take a seat on the couch instead of answering right away, leaning forward on his elbows and giving Falco a once over. Finally, he tips his head in acknowledgment.]

The stones can be. [Like the one of Paul's Falco already has, stitched into a falcon doll.] Are you trying to find something out?

[There are divinations he can do, and resources he can tap if they prove insufficient, but he should ask before he starts making presumptions.]

[ Paul was more than free to take his seat. making sure he’s close enough to tend to Confetti, Falco shifts his own sitting position onto the floor, where he has an ample enough reach. his fingers graze the ball the egg is playing with to cause a reaction, just a small little back and forth slide; Confetti playfully paps his tiny feather-paws after it. ]

How to talk to ghosts. [ ghosts? monsters? the silence was many things, and didn’t stick to one category of being. ] Or— parasites.

[ Falco’s inquiry doesn’t come with empty hands; he’s already tried what was within his knowledge and reach, but he hasn’t given up. ]

I haven’t had luck by myself.

Edited 2022-06-18 18:51 (UTC)

[Moments like this are sometimes disorienting in a way Paul has yet to fully articulate to himself. He leans over his knees watching a boy play with a little animal, asking earnest questions in trust that he might have answers to provide, and it's like a memory mirrored, nostalgia from someone else's point of view.

The specific content of this question doesn't help. Paul knits his fingers together and makes a soft, non-committal sound in the back of his throat, closer to assent than denial.]

I've done something like that before. [It didn't go well.] I could try to do it again. And there are people I know I can ask.

[Ghost and parasite in conjunction make him think revenant, but he can't assume, whatever prescient sparks buzz in the fluid of his spine.]

[ the reply makes the boy breathe out an exhale he was withholding. it wasn't exactly bad news, but it wasn't the best of news, either. one should be cautious. ]

—But, there's safety involved, right? [ and if he hadn't been clear— ] Like, in numbers? Or wards?

[ falco too, has had a one-time botched exorcism too many. if anyone was going to do anything related to "the thing", it wasn't going to be without the correct precautions. not ever again. ]

[Paul smiles as reassuringly as he knows how to, which is exceptionally so. (He doesn't know it's one of those rare expressions that bring out his resemblance to his father, and Falco has no context to recognize it either.)]

Of course.

[He holds out a hand palm up, then half-curls his fingers like a wall of stakes around its empty center.]

The Pale Sanctuary is one of the safest places to explore things like that in Trench. I have a whole room warded there, and even if you're by yourself, you're never far from help. We wouldn't be, if you're asking for mine.

Alone, I mean.

[ it was probably a strange thing to be smiling to, all this possible ghost-parasite-communication. it’s not that that’s comforted falco, though; it’s obviously the security he feels in the offer. it makes his shoulders visibly relax, and allows him to roll the all he’d partially forgotten about back and forth from confetti’s reach. he’s grown to comfortable harmlessly chewing on it. ]

I’d feel better with that— with you, and the Sanctuary.

[ with confetti finally catching up, falco eyes a spot, and rolls the ball to paul’s shoe. ]

If you’ll have me.

[Paul catches the ball beneath his toes, rolling it back and forth lightly underneath them as he looks between the boy and his little creature. The subtle alchemy of togetherness has worked its magic again; Falco is readily upset, but willing to be soothed, which isn't the same thing as being easy to soothe.

So this is an accomplishment. It's one he's as proud of, in that still funny domestic way, as considering the right kind of toy for Confetti. He nudges the ball back to him with a loosening in his own shoulders above it.]

I'll always have you. That's what I'm here for.

[It's becoming more and more a part of him, this new and different purpose. That's what I'm here for, and the more he can say it, the more he can believe it, too.]

Now let's not worry about that until I have things ready for you, all right? Tell me...tell me a story about something Confetti did.

we can wrappy, with a little bow on top!

grice - 2022-07-05 20:09 (UTC) - Expand

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we can wrappy, with a little bow on top!