Log | August Catch-all | Closed

[graveyounglady]

Who: Mercy Graves & Others
When: Throughout August
Where: Around Gloucester
Summary: Various happenings throughout the month.
Warnings: Nightmares, claustrophobia, large-scale industrial accidents/train crash, screaming, fire, hallucination, loss of home, body horror, sadism/cruelty, mentions of attempted suicide and gore



Feel free to contact me at switalia, DM switalia#1344 on Disco, or PM if you'd like to set something specific up!

Comments

For Akechi (cw: nightmares, sadism/cruelty, body horror, claustrophobia)

[graveyounglady]

[They're on her. The kelpies. Their sharp fingers rip through her clothes, tear at her flesh as they drag her to the fire, laughter cruel and braying. She knows what's coming. She can see one holding the skin before they throw it over her.

Mercy screams and thrashes, fighting with the thin sheet she'd tried to wrap herself in, hoping it would be light enough it wouldn't constrict, wouldn't bind her, trapping her body as it transformed. But she fights with it, tangled up and screeching.]

No! No, no, no! No!

[simulatio]

[It's been a long, long time since Goro Akechi has felt safe enough to sleep soundly. Even if he hadn't spent years being conditioned to be aware of the slightest noise from his various foster parents, the recent attack has done nothing to prop up an illusion of security in their apartment.

So the sound of a scream jolts him awake instantly, the fingers of his right hand wrapping around the knife he keeps under his pillow even as his left yanks open the bedside drawer to grab the loaded pistol within. It's not proper firearm safety, to keep a loaded gun like that, but-- well. Safety is a precarious thing.]

Sister Mercy!

[It's a rough bark as he shoves her door open, gun drawn as his eyes dart around in search of an assailant. Considering he wouldn't be caught dead in normal circumstances wearing sleepwear around the apartment, and he has better things to be spending money on, he never bothered purchasing pajamas. So Mercy's fierce rescuer takes the form of a toned teenager wearing nothing but black boxers, holding a gun.]

[graveyounglady]

Mercy's twisted into her sheets and half-sobbing as she throws herself toward the sound of familiar voice and winds up face-first on the floor. She's dressed in a simple purple nightgown she'd thought would be good for sleeping. The little white bones on it had been an amusing and fantastical touch. She couldn't fathom how people could get the weave like that. Regardless, she reaches an arm out.

They got me, Akechi. I'm a seal again.

[She is very obviously not a seal, but here they are.]

[simulatio]

What?

[There's no enemies, as far as he can see. Just a hysterical girl, sobbing on the floor about demons conjured from her own imagination.

Fuck's sake. Willing his own heart to stop pounding quite so hard, he sighs and drops to one knee beside her. He didn't bring the holster for the pistol, for obvious reasons, leaving him holding it rather awkwardly in the same hand as the knife as takes her outstretched hand in the other.]

No, you're not.

[Too brusque. What would the princely character he pretended to be for so long say? A breath, then his voice pitches slightly upward, something that sounds like one of the heroic characters he'd used to watch on TV.]

Listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on what my hand feels like in yours. You can do that for me, right?

[graveyounglady]

A-aye.

[She grasps hold of his hand and squeezes tightly. He understands her. She has a hand. She as a body a heal that smarts something fierce from the bite she'd taken as a seal. A nightmare. It was just another nightmare. After a few moments pulling herself together, Mercy pushes herself up with her other arm.]

I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up.

[simulatio]

I thought someone might have broken in.

[To explain. The gun. He doesn't respond to her apology, because she did wake him up, and he's rather annoyed about that, but at least he doesn't say so out loud.]

Are you alright now? [He squeezes her hand back gently, his eyes searching her face in the semi-darkness for what little he might be able to glean from her expression.] Nightmares can feel real, but that's all they are: a nightmare. Your brain is simply trying to process a traumatic event, nothing more.

For Monika (cw: nightmares, brief mentions of attempted suicide and gore)

[graveyounglady]

[Even with her sleep aids, Mercy's sleep isn't nearly as dreamless as she might hope it would be. Not all of the nightmares wake her in a thrashing panic, though. The ones about the kelpies, those are fresh, harsh, vicious in a way that chokes her throat with tears and terror. There are other nightmares, though, older ones that seem to have found fertile ground amongst this new crop.

Mr. Thomas' body lay in a pulped mess at the bottom of the bell tower. In her nightmares, there's always moaning, though, a hint of life that she runs to, tries to save, even when he'd tried to take his own. They can have another chance. She can do this right, better. She can save him this time.

Mercy opens her eyes to a wet pillow and a hollowness in her chest she hasn't known for a long time. She wants her family. She wants her family, but even if she'd been in Inloy, they would have been weeks away. Now? There's worlds and time between them. She rubs her eyes and slips out of bed, padding softly out of her room. She moves with the stealth of a girl used to sneaking out to places she ought not to be sneaking to at the Dread Watcher's hour.

She's equally silent when she slips into Monika's room and over to the other girl's bed. The desire for comfort reigns supreme over common sense. She lifts the covers to try to slide into bed next to Monika like she would with her Grannie or Mama or even Colm.]

Monika, are you asleep?

[The words are whispered softly... closely.]

[writetheway]

[Well, Monika was asleep. She isn't a particularly light or heavy sleeper, and so while Mercy makes it across Monika's room without Monika stirring, the shifting of her blankets and the voice so close by her ear is enough to wake her. There's an instant of bleary confusion, and then her mind processes a figure before anything else and she bolts up in bed, gasping (and for an eyeblink, barely visible, easily dismissed as a trick of the darkness, her whole face flickers like a malfunctioning monitor) and grabbing a pillow as the worst makeshift weapon ever, and raises it up before--]

Mercy? [--she realizes she recognizes that whispering voice.]

[graveyounglady]

[There's a flicker of... something, but Mercy puts it down to the shadows and her own imagination, especially when she automatically raises an arm to fend off the pillow. It wouldn't be the first time she's been smacked with one for climbing into her brother's bed at some ungodly hour when they weren't meant to go out graverobbing.]

Sorry, I-I had a bad dream. I can go back- I don't like being alone in these rooms. I'm sorry...

[writetheway]

[Monika lowers her pillow, relief flooding her system even as her face screws up into worry. She sits up, offering Mercy some space on the bed if she wants to sit, too.] It's okay. There's a lot of reasons to have bad dreams here, huh?

[graveyounglady]

[Mercy sighs, lowering her arm.]

Aye. I'm trying not to let them get to me. Ain't working so well. How are you doing?

[writetheway]

I didn't have as much trouble with everything as some people did. [She didn't get kidnapped and turned into a seal, and the trouble she had getting that package from the docks was minor, so she doesn't feel like she has a right to complain. What she said doesn't really explain how she feels about it all, of course, but she keeps her attention on Mercy.]

If you don't like being alone, you can stay here tonight. Like a sleepover.

For Gojou (cw: large-scale industrial accidents/train crash, screaming, fire, hallucination)

[graveyounglady]

[The screaming of the train is like nothing Mercy has ever heard in her life. It's like a great and fearsome monster shrieking into the night. The explosion on the other hand? That's familiar. That's familiar in the worst sort of way. She bursts from her apartment, Monika getting out ahead of her as Mercy limps to follow.

She sees someone coming down the stairs from the apartments above.]

Did you see anything? There's been an explosion. I heard it! Like a whole armory's worth of gunpowder going up at once.

[120vision]

I heard it, too.

[ Gojou had been hurrying down the stairs. He hadn't been sleeping, so he's sharp and ready to confront whatever is happening. ]

I didn't see anything, though. We should check outside.

[ He remembers her hesitance when it came to confronting the attackers, so it's possible she won't want to do this either - so he grabs for her hand and tries to drag her towards the entrance. ]

[graveyounglady]

[She's a little surprised when he takes her hand, but Mercy's far too curious and concerned to just fret in the apartment. If there's been some sort of accident (or purposeful explosion) there are going to be wounded. She'll be needed. She tries to keep up with him, but she's limping a little bit, grimacing and hopping to maintain her speed.]

There!

[Just inside the gates, she spies a smoldering chunk of metal and points at- no, there's nothing there. No, there is? Mercy shakes her head as the image seems to flicker in and out.]

For Aelwyn (cw: large-scale industrial accidents/train crash, loss of home)

[graveyounglady]

[Trains are something wholly foreign. She'd heard that nice man, Martin, mention them when they'd gone to fetch that package, but seeing the giant boxes on wheels at the trainyard is... strange. She can't imagine a cart ever being this size. So many linked all together is a fascinating notion. Although, with big carts come big crashes.

The silvery flickers of that crash have led Mercy here. Her limp is still there after being bitten on the heel by one of the kelpies, but she's moving much more freely than she had. As she stands just outside the trainyard, watching some men in overalls moving around, she notices someone else.]

Ms. Aelwyn? You come to look at what in depths happened her?

[aelwyn_aberration]

[She startles a little before recognizing the voice.

Oh, it's just Mercy. If there was a faint ghostly shade about her, it's immediately gone. She shrugs, donning a pleasant smile.]

Lady Mercy. [There's a twinge of amusement to her tone but it's not mocking so much as friendly.] I figured I'd do some investigation after all that nonsense earlier. I suppose you had the same idea?

[It's good if so. She'd been afraid to ask Angelo or Frontal. And there's nobody else she trusts here not to sell her out to ADI. But Mercy's presence... it's bizarrely comforting.]

[graveyounglady]

[Mercy blinks and shakes her head a bit. She hadn't got nearly enough sleep the past few nights and it seems like she's still seeing flickers of this 'train.' She puts the shade down to that and nothing more.]

Aye. Ain't every night you got a ghost waking a body from the soundness. 'Specially one that ain't a person. You ever heard of the like where you're from? How could a machine have a soul to make something like that?

[aelwyn_aberration]

Yes.

[She says that rather quickly, and matter of factly, like it's not just something she's aware of but has experience with.] But where I'm from, it's not uncommon for vehicles to be extraplanar beings like... angels or demons or elemental beings who were forced inside to act as a sort of navigator or power source.

I think it's probably more likely that it's less an actual vehicle's spirit trapped on this plane, and more a humanoid or malevolent presense that is capable of manifesting the train. Like a poltergeist.

[But the idea of a train that became so self-aware that it manifests a soul... fascinates Aelwyn. It must be a truly horrific existence. Somehow, the idea of feeding on such a monster doesn't even cross her mind, like it's fear is entirely unpalatable to whatever monster lurks in Aelwyn's magic.

How curious.]

[graveyounglady]

Oh! [Mercy frowns deeply, looking around again before putting a hand on the hilt of her blade. The dirk is in a leather sheath at her side.] You think it's dangerous, then? I brought my dagger, if there's any trouble. Supposedly been blessed by one of the Abbots of old for the Blind Mother. There's any fighting, you just run and I'll hold them of afore joining you, all right?

A fancy lady shouldn't get hurt be malevolent presences.

For Elias

[graveyounglady]

[Mercy found herself a seat at a table away from some of the patient beds after her conversation with Elias on the network. It was exciting, really, all of these people she was able to talk to at once without ever leaving where she was. Magical!

She glanced up when she heard the door open and saw it wasn't another person the medical scrubs of those who were working here, nor did he appear to be injured. Mercy stood, grinning. She was a tall, muscular young woman with the white cloth of a novitiate tied over her head. Her dress was simple and understated, as suited one of the faith in training. It was also distinctly not of this era. Although, placing it and its country of origin might prove challenging when she came from a place that was most certainly not earth.]

Mr. Bouchard, weren't it? I'm Sister Mercy Graves, sir. It's a right pleasure to meet you.

[Mercy held out her hand for a shake.]

[eyeknowyou]

[What an interesting meeting this promised to be.

Elias had no trouble finding the place, let alone her, but he still stopped and allowed his eyes to glance upon everything, memorize it. The weight of his gaze found her next, taking in the dress and the piece over her hair, eagerly trying to search for any familiar accent in the sound of her words. Clues. He was aching for clues when he was…denying himself the instinct he relied upon.

The curiosity gripped him tightly.

He took her hand and shook it, smiling a rather practiced, corporate smile, one that he had had a few centuries to perfect.]

And it is quite the pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Graves. I hope that I am not interrupting anything…?

[graveyounglady]

Nothing that can't wait for a good conversation. My Grannie told me those are just as much a chance for learning as anything you'll read out of a book.

[The translation effect here seemed to have rendered her accent as some curious mixture of deep Appalachian with a touch of New Englander when it curled around certain words. Her handshake was firm, confident, but not overbearing, and she gestured for Elias to sit at the table with her.]

So, you been having trouble with sleep, sir? Is it getting to sleep or staying there?

[eyeknowyou]

Your grandmother was wise. I enjoy conversations; you can learn a lot about a person with them.

[Not British then. Not European at all. He raised an eyebrow, surprised about the American tone, before he took the offered seat. Hands folded on the table, and the thought of answering that almost made him laugh.]

Getting to sleep, I’m afraid. It’s been some time since that came easily. [Which was not untrue; it was just that he didn’t miss it when he couldn’t bask in the nothingness. Sleep was too much like death.]

Could it have something to do with this…what did you call it? A ‘dead watch’?

[And his smile was just wonderfully charming.]

[graveyounglady]

Dread Watcher. [It's a quick and easy correction.] She's a right tricky one. She's the worst when she catches hold of you while you're dreaming, hooks her claws in like a jealous thing so she can pull you in the watch. But the clerics at the temple said there's another side to her past that. Her many eyes can see you when you're awake, as sure as when you're sleeping. And when she looks through you, that can rob the sleep right out of you.

If she can't have your dreams, then she'll try to keep you from having them at all.