[OPEN] Maddening Shroud

[graveling]

Who: Angel and Company
What: Month two of solo priesting
When: August, both before and after the Blight
Where: Yes
Warning(s): Discussion of death, murder, Angel's nature

1. Some days my strength walks out [The Temple]
Degas did not return, when August came. Oh, he gave Angel ample encouragement and appreciation for its work, but his sabbatical continued. So the priest of the goddesses labors alone. Perhaps you've come for a blessing or to discuss theology, or to visit one of the altars or the shrines to other gods.

Or perhaps you've realized it's 11:45pm and the lights are still on, as if someone has yet to go home. Much to do, much to do.


2. Some days I can't go on [Therapy Grave]
There's a pair of graves in the woods, Erin's work, maintained for anyone who needs to rest in cool dirt. Angel never had a grave to lie in before. It rose at the beginning of its lonely existence from a shallow ditch, hardly a proper grave.

It's Angel's day off. It is in the woods, in a grave. Or perhaps it's in the woods walking too or from the grave. Really, this is just an excuse for people to find it on a day off, or an off day.


3. It is for real, we can walk about [Wildcard]
Find me on Discord to plot, or just throw anything at me. I'm easy.

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[blindwatchersees]

We can be fierce, they insist.

But you’re not here for fierce. You’re here to be a dead thing.

[graveling]

"Are you going to judge me for that want, swarm-of-butterflies?"

The question is only half-serious. What does a butterflies' judgment matter, anyway?

[blindwatchersees]

No, of course not! We're here to help you with being dead!

[graveling]

Angel doesn't respond to that for several minutes, playing the part of a corpse very well.

"Did I need the help?"

[blindwatchersees]

Well, you were doing a pretty good job, but we thought maybe you could be a little more convinced. You know, a sort of therapeutic dose of Cotard’s Syndrome?

[graveling]

"Sort of what?" Angel has no context at all.

[blindwatchersees]

A condition of the mind where you become wholly convinced that you've died, or ceased to exist. We can give you a little taste of that. Of course, you are objectively a corpse, but we could help you actually feel like one, perhaps even make you forget for a little while that you've ever been able to be up and about. We could even make you imagine you're decaying, if that's something you'd like!

[graveling]

"Naw, decay is more than I need, personally. But if you want to knock me out completely, well. That sounds awfully peaceful."

[blindwatchersees]

We'd be more than happy to oblige! We know how hard it can be, being expected or even compelled to be in the shape of a person. Consider it a favor, from one walking contradiction to another.

[graveling]

"Alright, then. Though I need to get up and start moving again before sunset. Eddie will worry if I don't get home. He needs me to be a person again."

If there's a hint of complaint in the undertone there, well. Don't tell Eddie.

[blindwatchersees]

We'll keep an eye on the time, don't worry! Go ahead, get comfortable!

[graveling]

Angel lies back and closes its eyes, relaxing completely.

[blindwatchersees]

The butterflies settle upon the corpse like a burial shroud.

And the corpse feels and thinks nothing at all.

That is, until shortly before sundown, where they lift off Angel like a sleeping mask being rudely lifted up.

[graveling]

"Guh."

The word escapes him like a fart, involuntary and rude.

"I mean, um. Sorry."

[blindwatchersees]

The swarm giggles.

Feeling better?

[graveling]

"Better enough." Not that he's moving to immediately sit up and climb out of the grave.

[blindwatchersees]

Good! You know, sometimes fresh mulch just smells too delightful to not bury yourself in it, as far as your roots can manage.

CW: implied suicide ideation

[graveling]

"Naw, not mulch. Good clean dirt, like I crawled out of in the first place. Shallow ditch in the woods, nothing like these nice graves. I've tried burying myself entirely before, to see if the earth would take me back."

It didn't, of course. Most days, he manages to be glad for that.

[blindwatchersees]

Well, that does make a sort of sense, doesn’t it? A corpse feeds the dirt. The mulch feeds the worms, and the beetles, and the fungus. You belong in dirt. We belong in mulch. It’s the right flavor for our skin.

[graveling]

"I'm not feeding much of anyone, like this."

...except everyone who eats the honey from Angel's hives. And the spiritual hungers of those visiting the Temple.

[blindwatchersees]

Are you not? You do a lot of things, for a corpse. Some of those things must feed people.

[graveling]

"Mrrmf. You're not wrong."

But he doesn't want to admit it.

[blindwatchersees]

I’m right surprisingly often. Oh, speaking of feeding people, can we talk to your bees? A visiting goddess was asking about mead-infused cheese.

[graveling]

"...visiting goddess? Do I need to put on my priest hat to handle this inquiry?"

There's a bit of the whine of a student asking if something will be on the test there.

[blindwatchersees]

"Oh, you don't need to go tracking her down. If she wants to talk to you, you'll know. Her voice really does carry, after all."