ph_logs | Gonna Get A Good Grade In Therapy [Open]

Gonna Get A Good Grade In Therapy [Open]

Who: "Slasher Face" Jean and YOU
What: General stuff between and around events; prompts may update as more fire
When: September
Where: Jean's apartment, the library, Around (search parties)
Warnings: Discussions of & flashbacks to violence are likely, ongoing struggles with trauma

Sick Leave [Jean's Apartment]

The few days immediately after the parade, Jean has to take off work at the library; conflicting duties, need to help with the search parties and also rest up, you know how it is. You might catch them there of a morning, or an evening as the sun is setting, washing out that bloodstained wolf suit or sitting out front working nicks out of their claymore while they sharpen it. They seem to have a lot on their mind.

This prompt is also very open for other wildcards at their home.

You Are Being Rescued, Do Not Resist [Search Parties]

Jean cleans up their own messes, and joins the search parties for the reviving dead after the parade. That's it, that's the prompt, tag into it if you'd like to chat with Jean while they're searching, if you'd like to be found by them, whatever, I've had one cup of coffee and there's only so much prettying up of this idea I'm about to do. Y'all are lucky I worked in the meta comedy of complaining about the prompt that I myself have written and was under no compulsion to include.

Back To The Grind [Library]

When Jean does return to their day job, they're oddly subdued. No manic bouncing, no popping out from behind corners. A lot of yes ma'am, no ma'am, that edition is currently check out ma'am and then getting right back to work. But a regular patron - or a friend to Jean, perhaps - may notice a different slight change in habits. On their breaks, and indeed Around - when they're sitting on benches in town, out for coffee, in their apartment if you're over - Jean's started checking out fiction books for the first time. They're a fast reader, tearing through novels over the course of a day and night, and though most of their selections remain information about the island and this world a pattern emerges in their entertainment selection. A plurality of their choices are romance; all of their selections prominently feature Women That Can Kill You, or were chosen because Jean thought they'd feature such.

Mind you, it's still Jean.

There's yet another notebook. They are taking notes in their tiny handwriting. Very. In-depth. Notes.

Wildcard

Fuck me up

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Jean offers their hand without hesitation. "Don't misunderstand me, that memetic attack took you down pretty hard, but I haven't had a fight that decent here since..."

"...Ever, actually, you're the watermark."

Can't stress enough that they're trying to say this as a compliment.

"Well, I'm glad I could impress," he says with a tired laugh, hoisting himself out of the cart at last. "But I can hardly take all the credit. I was, after all, possessed by a great evil."

Neil dusts himself off for a moment before sighing at the futility of trying to get caked on coal dust out of his clothes with just his hands. "I trust you survived the day, then?"

"Yes! It could have been worse, but it could have been a lot better too. The lack of information going in..." Jean frowns. They are not happy about that even a little. "But I may have exciting news for you. I acquired some information in the aftermath that might go some way to stopping this from happening again."

"...I would like to make that a priority."

"Really! That's excellent news." Neil perks up a bit, but then gets caught in a rough coughing fit that curbs his enthusiasm. "Ugh. Perhaps we ought to talk more later. Would you be so kind as to come by the office this afternoon...?

"Certainly! Let's get you looked over and back to town first - oh! And before I forget, can someone help Comrade Eddie with a new pair of glasses?"

Jean offers a shoulder to lean on.

...Comrade? "There's a damage claims organization in town. I'd ask Mayor Poe about it."

Back at Neil's home office, he gets himself cleaned up with a long, long bath and some fresh clothes before getting started on some tea in anticipation of Jean's visit.

Jean shows up with a curiously paper-shaped package which is wrapped in, wouldn't you know it, plain brown paper. They knock on the door and wait politely.

Hopefully describing what they're learning will let Doctor West explain it, because Jean sure doesn't have a god damn clue.

Neil opens the door and smiles tiredly. "Hello there, Jean. Thank you so much for stopping by. What have you got here?"

"It is a Page. Try not to look directly at it, hahahaha, ha, haaaa...seriously don't. Also I should open it inside."

Last thing Jean needs to do is attract monsters. Or birds. Or bird-monsters.

"Ah-- Yes, of course, do come in. I was so interested in what you brought I forgot we were standing on the stoop!" Neil stands aside to let Jean in, then shuts the door behind them.

"Now, do tell me--- what do you mean by a 'Page'? I assume by your caution you don't just mean from a book."

"More like a Book with a capital B. There's a lot I don't understand about this process right now..."

Jean comes in and sets the package on a table. "This! Will be! Abridged! But as I understand it, the Library that I once worked for could gather the Light from those slain inside, and write many Books from them. I used to sort those! Burn a Book, though, and you get Pages of many kinds. Combat techniques, hidden power, the very identity of your foe...and information on their life, their nature, their weaknesses."

Jean sets a hand on the package. "Here, I just make a Page directly, so I'm missing, hahaha, ha, SO MUCH information, to say nothing of how this should not work at all outside the Library...but this here is the Page of the Parade."

Jean pauses to let the implications sink in.

Neil looks down at the Page with widened eyes. It gives his face a strange appearance with his thick, round glasses magnifying them slightly, but his intrigue is clear.

"The Parade itself," Neil parrots. "Does this imply that the Parade is a single collective entity?"

"That is indeed what I believe, yes! The Marchers merely shells, created by the being somehow or maybe extensions of it...either way, they're hollow. The Light behind their eyes is not their own. Now, don't look directly at this. I'm prepared to describe the information on the Page as best I can, but it'd be even easier if you could read it, so..."

Jean opens the package slowly. Light gleams out from it first, and when it is fully unwrapped there sits the Page, woven from pure Light, fluttering just over the table in a gentle breeze that is not there.

"I! Have no idea what will happen if you touch it! You're not of the Library or trained to use the Light, but...might be worth a shot. In theory once you touch the Page you should know everything on it. In practice, hahahaha, ha, hahahahahaha, no clue."

Neil carefully averts his eyes, peeking out of his peripherals. "Well, I may not be trained in the Library's methods, but I am quite formidable in several other schools of magic. You put yourself at risk for our investigation of the cursed treasure. I'd be willing to take a leap of faith for this, with your guidance."

"You have to read it with the light behind your eyes. I realize this is cryptic! But it is! The best explanation that I have!"

"...No, I believe I understand what you mean. The light, but not the eyes themselves. Is that right?"

Jean nods, solemnly. "Whenever you're ready, Comrade West. The Page gave me information, but I'm not sure that I understand it."

Neil isn't sure what Jean does to read it, but he chooses the course of action that feels right, unfocusing his eyes to gaze upon the page and holding a hand over it as if to trace lines of text with fingertips. Red rings of light begin to form around his irises as the searing red electrical magic he uses crackles around his temples.

He shakes it off, looking away.

"Abyssal in nature. Something rooted in primordial evil, beyond this world entirely. Very, very old. The piper, the marchers, the possession, it is all rooted in one energy source, one entity... I always thought it was a construct of Aster, but no. This is something older..." He looks to Jean. "This fragment you stripped from that entity is extremely powerful. I'm surprised you even had the wherewithal to wrangle it into this form. But this is quite groundbreaking, finding out that the Parade is just a fragment of one massive eldritch abomination."

"...How'd it get past the barrier..." Jean shakes the question off, and beams. It's good to know this worked, and was helpful. "I haven't attempted to use the Page yet. I'm not entirely sure what it'll do. Some Pages let me take on aspects of the being in question, while others are more...tools, they give me combat techniques or mere fragments of the subject's nature that I can graft onto other Pages. I haven't had one turn against me yet, but that doesn't rule that out!"

"That in mind...shall I put it on?"

"That sounds extraordinarily dangerous. Let me get my notes."

Neil hurriedly fetches a notebook and pen.

"Have I got your consent to put you down if it makes you lose your mind to the point where you become a danger to yourself or others?"

Jean smiles at Neil.

It is not a friendly smile.

It is not a particularly welcoming smile.

"Doctor, if at any point you're capable of killing me, you're fully invited to."

"Duly noted." He opens his notebook, not seeming particularly phased. "Let's begin."

Jean holds the Page up and concentrates. It is not a fast process; their body goes still, and to all outside observation it looks a lot like they're meditating, because they are. Minutes tick by, unobserved and unnoticed by Jean.

The Page tears down the middle, leaving something, shining and tinged red, in Jean's hands. They press it to their chest and take a sharp breath in, eyes opening.

"...Oh, that's interesting," Jean murmurs. "Interesting and quite nice, almost like an E.G.O. Page, something I'd usually need the support of an Abnormality for...I can work with this." They look over at Neil, and crack a feral smile. "The power of the Parade, lessened but probably far more useful for it - the trumpets of madness, and strength therefrom."

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Gonna Get A Good Grade In Therapy [Open]

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Timeskip to Office?

o7

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