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event } the honk is coming from inside the ship
WHO: Everyone left behind on Navi.
WHAT: There’s a goose on the loose!
WHERE: Anywhere on Navi.
WHEN: Feb. 20-March 13
WARNINGS: Add these to your comment subject lines as needed! And if the goose pecks through your skull, please make sure to fill out the death page.
Those of you who haven’t been swept off to a hell dimension may find that Navi is … unusually empty. Those links you had with your partner? It’s like they’ve just been shut off with the flick of a switch. Weird, right?
However, Navi’s halls are not exactly quieter for the emptiness. At first, you might think you’re imagining it, but soon enough, it becomes evident that there is something else on board this ship and it honks. The honking is intermittent, but it never truly ends for good. You’ll hear it through the walls, outside your cabin doors, on the next floor - everywhere.
After a few hours of this nonsense, Navi reaches out to the passengers via the mental link and asks them to find the source of this infernal noise and round it up so it can be ejected from the ship. It’s driving Navi nuts, they can’t tell where the honking is coming from, so they can’t take care of it themselves. It won’t be easy, because this goose is wily (and an eldritch being, technically), but it needs to be handled, and there’s no one else around. Good thing you’re still here to help!
WHAT: There’s a goose on the loose!
WHERE: Anywhere on Navi.
WHEN: Feb. 20-March 13
WARNINGS: Add these to your comment subject lines as needed! And if the goose pecks through your skull, please make sure to fill out the death page.
Those of you who haven’t been swept off to a hell dimension may find that Navi is … unusually empty. Those links you had with your partner? It’s like they’ve just been shut off with the flick of a switch. Weird, right?
However, Navi’s halls are not exactly quieter for the emptiness. At first, you might think you’re imagining it, but soon enough, it becomes evident that there is something else on board this ship and it honks. The honking is intermittent, but it never truly ends for good. You’ll hear it through the walls, outside your cabin doors, on the next floor - everywhere.
After a few hours of this nonsense, Navi reaches out to the passengers via the mental link and asks them to find the source of this infernal noise and round it up so it can be ejected from the ship. It’s driving Navi nuts, they can’t tell where the honking is coming from, so they can’t take care of it themselves. It won’t be easy, because this goose is wily (and an eldritch being, technically), but it needs to be handled, and there’s no one else around. Good thing you’re still here to help!
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"I can only imagine," He is, after all, very much mortal and short lived. Simon doesn't think he'd like to change that, either. Strangely enough Simon doesn't even seem inclined to ask this strange being if they'd be inclined to help. He's just going to take care of it himself, preferably without anyone else getting in the way. It's just a matter of...
There! He stops, head snapping in a direction before soon enough he's following some sense that only he... and perhaps Spirit here, can see. Lights flicker as he reaches out seeking whatever he can to tap into or interfere with that might give him an upper hand. Frustratingly Navi is much more difficult to interfere with than standard security systems. Here? No. Further... yes there is, the honking and the crashing of a goose on a rampage. Not far now.
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As for the goose as it were, Spirit may or may not already know where it is. If they do, they're not particularly inclined to help with that either. They'll follow, though. Part curiosity and part nothing much else to do at the moment. There's other interesting souls here but also plenty of time for that. So, Aether observes with mild amusement when the elusive thing hops from place to place a few times before it seems to be cornered.
Now the fun part: how will Simon fair against it?
CW: Bad puns, violence and blood
What is important is shutting up the goose.
Finding the goose was relatively easy when one could be in two places at once, especially when one part was unimpeded by physical barriers like walls and doors. The goose had made its way into one of the lounges, leaving a trail of feathers and destruction in its wake. The lounge itself was the sight of goose-tastrophe. Upturned furniture, cushions torn to pieces, all manner of fowl related... foulness.
Now, a standard run of the mill domestic goose wouldn’t be too much trouble to deal with. But this creature, this eldritch entity guised in the visage of a goose was an entirely different story. For one, it was not only aware of Simon’s shadowy form lurking within the room it was capable of interacting with it. Which he found out violently when he’d tried to cheat and take care of the problem quickly, claws reached out only to be snapped back by a furiously honking and snapping beak. Outside of the room Simon jumps back, hissing softly to himself on instinct. Alright, so… dangerous. He really wished he had that sheet those guys had been bickering about.
No sense moaning about it, he’ll make do with what he has. With his shadow self able to flit around at impossible speed he sought to keep the devil goose distracted while he moved into the room. There weren’t many options for weapons but during its rampaging around the goose had brought along a few kitchen knives which suited Simon just fine, like old times. Scooping one up he’s quick to deflect a snapping beak. The shadow moves, like a lightning bolt it struck out at the goose sending it flying across the room. Recovering quickly the goose went on the offense, lunging at Simon with wings beating and that horrible snapping beak.
As it turns out, the goose hits like a truck.
Simon might be a powerful psychic, but he was still very much a slightly malnourished squishy human. The goose’s attack sent him hitting the wall with impressive force, his shadow self responding by tossing some furniture. From here the whole thing started to look like a cartoon with flying furniture, a man knife-fighting a goose, and a goose able to produce a wallop like a professional boxer.
This all happened alarmingly fast, given the way Simon’s shade could move certainly shortened the time needed for a fight. In the end he had taken a few too many blows and was struggling to keep himself going. The goose, shockingly, was also winded and a little damaged. Although shadowy psychic boy vs. eldritch goose was never going to be a particularly even fight. The odds were stacked just a bit too high for poor Simon.
more violence
For the first while, they were thoroughly unhelpful. Tucked somewhere in the shadowy corners, Quintessence was more than happy to simply watch the bloodbath and wholeheartedly amused by Simon's relentless determination. This monster was vicious, as geese often were (guess it was fitting after all). All at once it escalated from kitchen knives and honking beaks to a tornado of fury.
The eldritch goose was, needless to say, angry. Amidst the flying wood and metal, flickering lights and feathers that became razor sharp shadowy tendrils came a beak full of teeth much like Aether's own smile. Cute, wasn't it? Teeth that caught on to the shadowy figure of Simon, dug deep into skin and bone, clawing and chomping its way through. Simon put up a valiant fight, but. The end of this was frankly inevitable.
Unless Omega chose to do something.
They might, but they let the man bleed a little for his cause. The gurgling chokes of life backed up into a corner amongst the chaos. They watch, stepping forward a few paces. Vacant eyes fixed on the scene of Simon's struggle. In those halls where the two bodies still stood, that silver face turned toward a more fleshy visage now torn and bloodied. Dripping and sputtered on floor and walls. "But still human," they confirmed.
And toward the monster did their mouth opened wide, cracking the silver in half with thousands of pointy teeth. Like light was disappearing itself, sucked into the blackened pit of this entities mouth, swallowing its body until everything was black. Gut retching snaps and cracks of who knew what, squealing honks and other more unidentifiable sounds radiated throughout the ship until all at once there was silence. In a snap, Spirit's body returned and the goose was gone.
So much blood tho
For how far Simon had gone and how much he teetered on the edge, he still was just human.
He saw Omega move, met the being's eyes briefly before ducking away from more goose assault. Never did he ask for help. Maybe he should have, maybe that would have been wise, but no. Too proud, this one. Or perhaps he knew that ultimately if Omega chose to help it would be of their own whimsy and not really by any suggestion of his own.
Yet in the end they did.
Simon couldn't see all of what just transpired, but he witnessed enough to be glad it wasn't him caught in those jaws. Gladder still he didn't watch the entire act, as it might have been enough to shatter what fragile mind he had left. Instead he'd closed his eyes and just slumped against a wall, leaving a rather nice smear of blood on his way down. Yeah, maybe... he'll just have a nap here. Thanks for the hand though, Spirit, much appreciated.
seems like it needs some more tho
Spirit shifts their head toward the slide and thud. Simon was right about one thing, or several things honestly. There are ways to coerce an elemental into working with you, but even then one must be very powerful to control them when they decide to not co-operate. Omega very much acts on the whims of their own. Now especially. With this freedom, an ask would have worked but it might not have. Besides, they understood pride.
"Well you do have spirit, don't you?" They chuckle, moseying toward the man to simply sit nearby. "I am," a hand gesticulated, "unfortunately the end of things and not the beginning of things."
Which is to say they can't keep you alive, but they can help you die faster.
It could always get worse!
Shit.
Yeah he definitely fucked this up. Not that he knew for certain he was getting home in time to abscond with the Horn of Tiamat anyway. Maybe there wasn't going to be any stopping the end, and this way he didn't have to watch it go. He'll never know for sure, maybe in a way that's for the best. There's still hope. Even if he's not there to help along the way.
He does crack one eye open, lolling his head to the side to give Spirit a look. Simon didn't actually mind the company, it beat dying alone with only his own thoughts. Probably. There weren't any magical flashbacks witnessing his life played out before him, just pain and cold and quiet. Although... the pain wasn't really that bad. Shock? Yeah he thinks that's shock setting in. That's fine.
"I'll wait," No thanks on the quicker death, Spirit, he's fine. Let him enjoy what time he may or may not have left. Conserve energy, that's the ticket right now. "Before I came here, I watched the most beautiful sunset in Istanbul. I'd have liked to watch it one more time." Just sit and chat about nothing with him for a bit. He'll run out of energy to keep it up soon enough.
yay death!
Which they don't. Instead, they sit in the silence. Let nature do what it did. These moments were always so interesting and especially in creatures as complex as human. Much to the displeasure of many, they's bet, humans were in fact complex. Don't worry about the visions and flashbacks, though. Those come toward the very end, usually. Really its just electric pulses shooting off their last fleeting messages to the body but sometimes they get mangled; are interpreted strangely. Hence.
"As you wish," their toes tap once before crossing at the ankle. Well, body has more important things to worry about than accumulating information from pain receptors. Such as trying to keep the heart beating. This too shall pass. Until then. "Ah, Istanbul. Beautiful place, wonderful architecture. Tell me more," they requested with a wave of their hand. End of things, perhaps. Not without bedside manner, though.
with permission!
He had to, the whole thing was obscene and whatever strange emotions he got off the goose or the ship he had to think. He wanted to be by himself and try and remember what life was like before all of this was normal.
When the pain hits him, he grits his teeth. Psychic. Absolutely ridiculous. I don't want to think like this. I don't want to imagine -
The pain makes him twitch. His hands spasm. It's real and it feels like something ebbing. Hell if you all killed that damn goose... Pulling himself up out of his chair and padding back to the last place he saw the goose -
No. It was the source of pain. He was walking toward the source of pain and ebbing life. He padded toward it carefully, hands out, getting warier and warier until-
"Simon-?"
Disturbing a death scene? Richard Strand is instantly angry, "What the hell is going on?!"
Ayissssss Richie time
Oh good, well since his brain wasn't firing off random images and synapses yet he must not be that close to death. Maybe if he could drag his sorry ass off to the infirmary but trying to navigate hallways right now didn't sound like much fun. So... he'll sit, and wax poetic about sunsets instead. "The countryside is the best part," Architecture sure, but Simon's all about those scenic vistas and sunsets. "Russia, too, you wouldn't think it."
Ah, but what was this? By now a couple drones had meandered in to begin their task of clearing away rubble and scrubbing down walls. But behind them he felt the distress and confusion before the man arrived. Simon just lazily smirked at him from his spot on the floor tucked up against the wall. With all the blood around he expected the answer would be clear enough.
"You're slow, Doctor." He slurred, then giggled, because yeah he's losing it a bit. Well, more. Not dead yet, definitely dying. You could help.
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A psychologist as he liked to remind his sister. Not a psychiatrist. Not a doctor though he did at least try for some degree of chemistry after passing O chem through an act of God...
But he also prides himself on science, the powers of science, and medicine so he has some training, some degree of charts and -
He is painfully aware he chose a suit today even if it's careworn and sweaty from chasing that damned goose around and dealing with this...bleeding young man. Moving forward he shrugs out of his coat looking for the nearest place to tie a tourniquet.
"Stay awake. What the hell happened." He doesn't wince as he kneels. He runs - the knees are the first to go.
The command in his voice is above reproach. This is the voice he uses with angry grad students, irate priests and parents. It is to be obeyed.
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Well, now perhaps its time to address this fine dressed fellow. "He picked a fight with an Eldritch Goose."
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Simon offers Quin something of an amused gesture in return, though he's feeling a little too tired now to give much more than that. Or much more than an annoyed sideways look at Richard and his barking demands at a time like this.
"What he said." He slurred, expression turning into something between a grin and baring his teeth. Hard to tell which it was at this juncture. Feeling a little feral. Sorry about the gender Spirit, he doesn't actually know any better.
You can't command blood back into his body, Richard, but points for trying.
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Eldritch Goose, "You hurt that goose?" He bares his teeth, "I told you." He glares at the thing with the silver face, his features scrunch. Fear is curled inside of him but there is also an edge to it. Something that makes him puff up and stare the thing down.
"...And no one stopped you. Of course no one stopped you." He presses a hand to the other man's wound, "...Don't die Simon."
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"Hardly the worst fate" Spirit mentions, taps clacking lightly against the floor beneath. A hand waved, one chair -- miraculously intact -- slides toward them. They sit, dropping a leg over the opposing knee. The same hand unfurled in gesticulation, "why scold a well-earned death?"
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"Goose is gone." He emphasized that with a laugh, delirious or crazy or both. Yes, well Richard tried to tell him not to but Simon promptly failed to listen. He doesn't take orders. Which wound, Richard? There are a lot of them, but that's fine because Simon's trying to hold one of the worst ones together but he's not doing a great job at that. There is an infirmary, something Navi is likely to remind them. He doesn't have to sit there and bleed.
You know, Aether has a good point. Simon gestures a bloody hand in his direction again. See? At least give him that.
"You wanted to leave it? How long before it started going for people directly I wonder?" No one else seemed willing to deal with the problem, so Simon stepped up.
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His hands shake as he moves to lift the other man up.
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Simon's not given up completely on fighting so he'll throw an arm over Strand to help pull him up. This is a highly advanced space ship, surely Navi's equipped with some kind of medical equipment that can handle this sort of thing right?
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Richard is not gentle as he moves him to the table, but gentle when he examines the wounds, "...Talk to me. What happened with the goose."
His head is echoing.
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By the time they make it that last effort pretty well wore out what second wind Simon had. He was content just to slump down on the table and close his eyes. Talking? No, he thinks he'd like to sleep.
"Not a goose," Really, he thought that much was obvious by now. Geese are mean but not this dangerous. Missing the point: Simon Reese.
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"The eldritch goose then." His throat is tight. There are so many gadgets and whirring things that he has to lower his hands and he looks, senses, reads anxious, "Hold still."
That apparently is a command to activate - something - a rolling thing with a spray of tools - some sharp and some dull and some looking like pens in a cup, "...It's a goose."
He bares his teeth and picks up one, "...This...May sting?"
The light turns red around the area he picked it up from. He grabs a second one and it turns read before he focuses on the devices and concentrates until-
Blue. The correct tool is blue and he's reminded of his very first game of operation as a boy - before he twists it to reveal a very sharp laser. Sharp - can a beam of light be sharp?
No. He did that wrong. A second device turns blue and he grabs that and this one looks more like a press so he moves to the torn flesh he'd been trying to hold together.
"Hold still. This will hurt."
Cauterizing will do that.
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He cracked open an eye, too exhausted to really think about fighting about what was happening.
"Do you know what you're doing?"
It's not like he'll stop him, mind, he just wanted to know. Aa for holding still that's about all Simon can do right now. He's tired, he's cold, frankly he's amazed he's still slightly aware. The pain feels distant and foggy, like it was happening in a dream.
It's fine, he's not the one burning. Are you sure he can't just go to sleep?
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That is his talisman, he always knows. He knows enough, he knows what he's doing, he is aware he can do his damndest damn it. Gritting his teeth, he presses the cauterizing wand to the deepest wound before looking for the second deepest.
"You know me. Shouldn't you know that about me by now?"
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"I know," He wheezed, fading, confused. "I know you deny what's in front of you." Maybe he does know enough, he also likes to brush it off when it's convenient. Which wasn't really important right now, but then Simon was having some trouble figuring out what was and wasn't. Man, that goose really did a number on him.
TW: attack
He is. He's a fundamentally decent person despite a life of pain - he's aware of his privileges and his problems but there is always a sort of confusion and loss beneath his gaze. He has lost so much that he clings to the way the world works with a frantic devotion. An Acolyte of science.
zealots can get angry defending themselves.
A chaotic something oozes in his mind and he presses the cauterizer down on a wound not so deep. It's hard and fast but there's a damn good chance it will leave a burn but it's so quick and he withdraws it looking panickstricken.
"...It's not denial. There's always a rational explanation." He runs a hand over the cauterized marks, "...I think I was supposed to use that pen for anestetic."
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