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ph_logs2024-08-07 04:46 pm
restingslasherface) wrote in ph_logs2024-08-07 04:46 pm
[August Open] God Has Permitted Me To Survive
Who: Agent Jean and YOU
What: August open as I claw my way back into regular participation
When: Take a wild fucking guess buddy
Where: Watchtowers, beach/docks, public library, the gazebo, the woods, and wherever you like
Warning(s): Struggles with mental health, cosmic & demonic horror, possession, violence if you want some
Self-Care | Various
Jean is still working on relaxing. The paradox is not lost on them, but they do understand that relaxation is, you know, a skill, like speaking or reading or swordplay or training their stupid cat-dog-rabbit-thing, so they're going at it with the same kind of regular dedication they give to their otherwise busy schedule. Once a week you can find them at Oak & Iron expanding their knowledge of alcohol firsthand, and if they're not busy chatting with a local you are very welcome to join them.
They've also continued to sketch, something they didn't think of as a hobby they enjoyed before but which is, on reflection, one of the thin pillars of their fragile mental health. Jean can be spotted all around town simply working on their drawings, but especially at the beach, under the gazebo, in town square, and sometimes just hanging out in the lobby of Town Hall. Just about anything or anyone could be a subject of their art; odds are good that you're on the list.
Vade Retro Satana | Library, Ocularum | OTA but Neil Encouraged
With autumn and the ascension of Mendel approaching, Jean is trying to research more humane methods of resisting mental influences than the ones they themself went through. It is not really going all that well. A lot of books get checked out just before Mipha's Grace sets sail, and when the ship comes back into port Jean can be found staying late at the library desperately peeling through tomes for advice, or over at Neil's using the good doctor's library for much the same reason. Their notebook on the subject is uncharacteristically chaotic, full of scratched-out ideas with sketches in the margins that have a distinctly...
...stressed...
Style.
Outreach | Closed to Dahlia
Deep into the above, Jean gets dressed up in the Page of Kora's Avatar and ambles across town to the Leeds Estate. They settle in just outside the gate, pondering for entirely too long to themself if this is an appropriate reason to approach Comrade Leeds, and ultimately settles on the thought that Dahlia herself really is the one to make this decision. So they slip their sending stone from their pocket, and...
"Comrade Leeds? My apologies for the intrusion, I had hoped to speak briefly on training for the local levy and other volunteers. To be, hahaha, AHAHAHA, to be perfectly honest I expect my request may be a longshot regardless of any other factors, but just in case it isn't it would be remiss of me not to ask! If you're amenable I am currently outside."
Play With The Devil's Toys | The Woods
This moment was probably meant to be private. Deep in the woods, where only the mighty, the stupid, or both go, one might stumble upon Jean dressed in Cobalt Scar and contemplating a truly godawful weapon, thrust point-down into the soil. Their expression is grave. Their hand flexes, tentatively, once, twice. They seize the handle with gritted teeth, and the sound they make is pained, and it is full of furious hatred.
"No," they growl, and there is another growl, lupine and massive, rich and layered and inhuman, behind it. "No, you obey me. If you expect to be permitted to survive you obey me."
The sword doesn't seem to say anything out loud, but Jean's grip is white-knuckled, and it's not clear that they're winning whatever fight they're having with it.
Wildcard
Fuck me up.
What: August open as I claw my way back into regular participation
When: Take a wild fucking guess buddy
Where: Watchtowers, beach/docks, public library, the gazebo, the woods, and wherever you like
Warning(s): Struggles with mental health, cosmic & demonic horror, possession, violence if you want some
Self-Care | Various
Jean is still working on relaxing. The paradox is not lost on them, but they do understand that relaxation is, you know, a skill, like speaking or reading or swordplay or training their stupid cat-dog-rabbit-thing, so they're going at it with the same kind of regular dedication they give to their otherwise busy schedule. Once a week you can find them at Oak & Iron expanding their knowledge of alcohol firsthand, and if they're not busy chatting with a local you are very welcome to join them.
They've also continued to sketch, something they didn't think of as a hobby they enjoyed before but which is, on reflection, one of the thin pillars of their fragile mental health. Jean can be spotted all around town simply working on their drawings, but especially at the beach, under the gazebo, in town square, and sometimes just hanging out in the lobby of Town Hall. Just about anything or anyone could be a subject of their art; odds are good that you're on the list.
Vade Retro Satana | Library, Ocularum | OTA but Neil Encouraged
With autumn and the ascension of Mendel approaching, Jean is trying to research more humane methods of resisting mental influences than the ones they themself went through. It is not really going all that well. A lot of books get checked out just before Mipha's Grace sets sail, and when the ship comes back into port Jean can be found staying late at the library desperately peeling through tomes for advice, or over at Neil's using the good doctor's library for much the same reason. Their notebook on the subject is uncharacteristically chaotic, full of scratched-out ideas with sketches in the margins that have a distinctly...
...stressed...
Style.
Outreach | Closed to Dahlia
Deep into the above, Jean gets dressed up in the Page of Kora's Avatar and ambles across town to the Leeds Estate. They settle in just outside the gate, pondering for entirely too long to themself if this is an appropriate reason to approach Comrade Leeds, and ultimately settles on the thought that Dahlia herself really is the one to make this decision. So they slip their sending stone from their pocket, and...
"Comrade Leeds? My apologies for the intrusion, I had hoped to speak briefly on training for the local levy and other volunteers. To be, hahaha, AHAHAHA, to be perfectly honest I expect my request may be a longshot regardless of any other factors, but just in case it isn't it would be remiss of me not to ask! If you're amenable I am currently outside."
Play With The Devil's Toys | The Woods
This moment was probably meant to be private. Deep in the woods, where only the mighty, the stupid, or both go, one might stumble upon Jean dressed in Cobalt Scar and contemplating a truly godawful weapon, thrust point-down into the soil. Their expression is grave. Their hand flexes, tentatively, once, twice. They seize the handle with gritted teeth, and the sound they make is pained, and it is full of furious hatred.
"No," they growl, and there is another growl, lupine and massive, rich and layered and inhuman, behind it. "No, you obey me. If you expect to be permitted to survive you obey me."
The sword doesn't seem to say anything out loud, but Jean's grip is white-knuckled, and it's not clear that they're winning whatever fight they're having with it.
Wildcard
Fuck me up.
no subject
no subject
“That’s where you learned how to do this thing? A library?”
no subject
"It was not a good place, comrade. We were not good people. I think maybe no one there is or can be. I'm sorry, it's, haha, ha...hard to talk about."
no subject
“Can’t be… even now? Even here, when you’ve captured good on your paper with every stroke of the pen?”
no subject
...Thinking.
And they do think. Their ruminations are dominated by a vast system of harm they only barely comprehend, ruled by mysterious masters that terrify Jean beyond all belief. A system so all-encompassing, so horrific, that to understand one's place in it would be to go mad. They remember killing their neighbors to sell the organs for rent money; they remember the families of their victims being so beat-down, so ground up by this system, that they could not conceive of revenge for the wrong done to them. It simply is what it is. That's the way life goes. They remember...
Time. Endless time, years in an underground facility, beating power from the bones of things they understood as monsters, because that is what their employment contract says. They remember being told, later, so much later, that these monsters would be permitted to live in the City because they are human in the eyes of its masters. They remember...
...Zelda, and Kora, and Pomni and Cecil and Erik, so many people here, horrified at Jean, and yet, and yet, so ready to believe in them, telling them that they are not something foul, something tainted. Jean is torn. It would be a good thing to believe, but they know what is imprisoned in their mind, the sucking wounds that never stop eroding them from the inside...
"I think I don't understand what goodness is," Jean murmurs aloud, at last.
no subject
There’s a shadow (or Light, perhaps) of someone else lurking behind his features. Jean has no way of knowing about the mer who agonized about not being able to make sense of the world, only to be freed by the realization that it needn’t make sense.
Before Jean can answer, the old man cuts them off with another question.
“Can you fight?”
He knows the answer, but it’s important that Jean give it.
By tradition I declare: damn OCs and their one-liners
no subject
“Would you be willing to show me?”