SCAWWY 😱 daan

[concoctive]

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W2, monday

[recession]

[ Good day sir! Have we started a bit of a small first aid station yet in the camp? Ignore the outhouse bit I want to forget.

Anyway, before Daan can really say anything, they can get mem-blasted. ]

[concoctive]

[ honestly alfyn is the only one still living in the theater, totty has officially moved out and camille only comes around to be morbid. they can absolutely just use it as a clinic, because it's better than letting the space go to waste.

it is also not an outhouse.

but alfyn opens his mouth to bring this up, and then the shadows come. and he blinks at the memory that washes over them, sympathetic to his boredom but also uncertain of the hollowness. ]

... did you, in the end? [ at the end is the best place to start with his questions, right? ] Respect it I mean.

[recession]

[ Firstly, Daan is quiet when the memory plays.

Second, his expression is dark. Shadowed in a way that's hard to correctly define, because of how seemingly conflicted it is.

Should he be angry? Sad? Grieve? He didn't want to really see his face again right now. ]

...

I'm still here, and he isn't. So.

[concoctive]

[ #yikes

alfyn sort of stands there for a moment, hands in his pockets as he thinks about the proper response to that. thinks of the people that have earned anger and sadness and grieving in his life, in his friends' lives, and hums a quiet noise. ]

... what happened to him? Dive too deep into the obsession? 'cause that was - [ gestures with hand still in coat pocket, fanning it a little in the process. ] That was obsession, for him, for sure.

[recession]

...

[ He seriously looks like he's debating what to say, whether he wants to say it -- to Alfyn too, of all people. By all means, this guy's been pretty normal and nice to dump with this kind of lore but. ]

...

I found him dead when I came back from the war.

Near a ritual circle.

His wounds matched the knife I found in his own hand.

[concoctive]

[


that makes him tilt his head slowly, as he turns the information over. ]

... yeah. [ yeah???? ] Sounds a lot like he gave into the obsession. Not the first time I've heard of a ritual circle with that kinda thing, but it was - different, in that the guy wasn't the one in it. He was takin' people and bleedin' 'em out to make blood crystals.

[ alfyn accepts the information in stride, at least, and doesn't blink at it in terror but - more in just "huh, that's fucked up and i'm sorry you experienced it." ]

This feels a lot more complicated than an "I'm sorry, Mr. Daan," when he obviously meant somethin' to you before that.

[recession]

Bad taste.

[ Is his comment in regards to making blood crystals. IT'S BAD TASTE!! ]

...

He accepted me into his house, of course. When I was just a stray. And he taught me medicine. I was grateful. I had my reservations but telling him these little things in return, it was -- I thought it was the least I could do.

...

It wasn't just himself. He -- I suspect. He took my wife with him in the rite.

[concoctive]

Ha, yeah. Another drip in the bucket of cultish things.

[ it's a long story and kind of a Ride. but what daan says next is - really the actual kicker, here. ]

Gods' teeth. [ hissed through his teeth softly. ] That's -

[ the greatest betrayal that the man could've done, after taking him in? it isn't affection week anymore, so alfyn's not sure how receptive daan'll be to this, but... still, he reaches out. curls his hand around his shoulder. ]

... loss doesn't ever get easier. Least of all when they get taken away from you by somebody else. "I'm sorry" isn't enough, for that, but I am, awfully so.

[recession]

[ He doesn't respond much aside from a dull look at Alfyn's arm as he reaches out. A shoulder touch is fine. ]

It's fine, Mr. Greengrass. [ Is it. ] I obviously don't need to point out to you that you weren't involved, and it's hardly in any way your burden to bear.

It's happened. Nothing I tried could bring her back. So.

All I can do is search for an answer as to why he did it. Whose sigil it was for.

[concoctive]

Empathy and sympathy exist so that we can offer comfort and understandin' to each other, regardless of who's at fault, y'know. He's not around to give you an apology, and probably wouldn't even if he was, if I had to guess, so somebody ought to offer you one.

[ softly, but also firm in a way that a protagonist tends to have. but he does remove his hand after a beat.

he's not touching daan trying to brink back his wife with a ten foot pole, though. ]

... there many things that can be summoned with sigils, where you come from? There's only the Dark God, back home, for that kinda thing.

[recession]

I appreciate the attempt.

[ Is the best he can say. Someone got him cigarettes as a present this week and BOY HOWDY is it really going to come in clutch. Suddenly all my smoking icons are actually going to be real now. ]

Mmh. There's a number of gods. Gro-goroth, Sylvian, Vinushka... Fear and Hunger, Alll-mer. Rher. They all each have their own unique sigils attributed to them.

But I don't know... I don't recognise the one I saw. It's still something I'm trying to figure out.