My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly, Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?

[howtheyshine]

Who: Yellow, The King In (howtheyshine) & OTA

What: Canon updates are rough, buddies.

When: Early August

Where: The Dock, the woods, see headers!

Warning(s): Eldritch tantrums and horror podcast character trauma.

i. the docks - cw body horror - OTA

He keeps himself in check as he finds his way back to the ferry. He doesn't think he fools the creatures he speaks to, the beings who essence he can feel now, in intermittent moments that fade the longer he's on the water. He doesn't bother trying to shape himself into something human. He can feel what he's made of now, too, what this form is made of, the base materia, the corpse of the man he was bound to. Larson. It's like learning he's lived in a house built from bones and human hides.

He tells himself it bothers him because he deserves better than a human corpse.

But the closer he gets to the island, the more the King realizes he's about to see people he forgot existed until hours ago. Hours at most. People from a life coming back to him in slow waves, making him feel and radiate an oppressive sensation, a psychic nausea that he does his best to pretend is intentional.

The shape that exits the ferry towers over the dock, a void wrapped in yellow mist. He sprouts groups of tentacles as he moves, each one unspooling and pulling him forward before fading back into the shadow underneath his yellow film. It's silken, uncanny, a steady glide. Every limb is a blue so deep that looking too long feels like drowning.

He is a monster, and he's going to make sure everyone knows it this time.

ii. lockwood forest - cw animal death (not graphic/off-screen) - OTA

As soon as he can escape town, he does. He goes to the woods first, the chaos of emotion like a whip against his spirit, driving him on and on, sleepless and snarling, a violent shadow that kills two deer and snatches a rabbit off its feet before he catches himself and lets it go. He didn't want to kill it, it's a fucking rabbit, it's beneath him. They're all beneath him. It's all beneath him.

He can feel another presence now, too, when he couldn't before. Kayne, the Kayne-but-Not, the thing that is Nyarlahotep here and became something else somewhere else. He can't feel where it is. He can't feel if it's close or far, if it's watching him or simply exists and he can tell now. But he's afraid of it. He's afraid of it, and there's nowhere to run, and killing animals hasn't made him less afraid. Any more than killing humans did.

But at least out here he's harder to find.

Other than the like, destroyed greenery.

iii. paradesium - cw mental manipulation/potentially altered mental states - OTA

He ends up in Paradesium. It seems like the best place to stay. The hardest spot for mostly-average humans to reach unaided. He haunts the ruins in ever-changing shapes, shifting colors without names. It makes him... homesick. This empty place, these tumbled stones. A monument to something, someone, that he should be equal to. At least.

It's why he does what he does. That thought. The recurring itch that he should be more than this, he should be more than a creature too nervous to stay in one shape lurking in hidden places. The uneasy feeling that this place, too, should be more.

Maybe some will feel it. Probably most won't. But the King in Yellow tries, very briefly, to warp some of the city ruins into something else. The part he chooses was a palace once. He tries to make it into a palace again, a grand and sweeping edifice to the god he's supposed to be. It's like throwing a glass of water onto a bonfire. The power twists out of shape, fractures away from him, leaving pieces of the ruins laced in Illusion. The power shifts and looks for the cracks in the mind of whoever comes near it, almost independent of its summoning god. It adapts to the particular desires and daydreams of the minds it can touch. Each pocket of surreality spills out a draining joy, an ecstatic exhaustion that encourages dreams. Sleep, motherfuckers, and give him somewhere to vent his feelings that won't truly kill anyone. Probably.

iv. wildcard/once upon an event i missed lol

Another idea? A thread you want to continue from my last ancient posts? An event prompt you want to share for me to tag? Want to just straight-up talk through CR things that might have happened because my god I've missed so much and I love y'all's characters, why not skip the awkward introductions?? Have at! I'm also available on plurk, if you'd rather, and the game discord server (nickname Jae).

Comments

[sunshinesally]

When Sally arrived two years ago, Gwen came after. A separate ferry, brought ashore by the ferryman himself. Some debate over whether or not it made sense to bring a child so young into this, she thinks. Whatever the case may be, Sally spent hours, days waiting by the beach. Sat on the side of the hill leaning down to the speckled sands, sitting next to Eddie Kaspbrak or all by herself.

She can't do that now. Too much life to live, no guarantee that her son will come home. Sometimes they don't. But every evening, she finds a few hours to put out a picnic blanket, sit on that same hill, and play with Gwen. Tells herself it's just good to let her daughter get some time outside in the summer. Tells herself it's to clear her head. But she knows exactly why.

"Mama," Gwen says, setting down her little stuffed rabbit. Sally's not listening just yet, spacing out. "Mama look! Mamamamama."

"Hmm?" Blinking away the dissociation, Sally looks down. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Mamamamamama," Gwen babbles unhelpfully, but she's clearly looking at something. So Sally follows her gaze to see the ferry pulling in.

"Yes, honey, that's a boat. Can you say 'boat?' Hm? Bbbbboat. Buh-oh-t."

"Awawawawa."

"Okay. Not now. Got it."

"Lello."

"No, Gwennie, the boat is white. It's just sunset, so it looks yellow. See?" Sally is so focused on Gwen now, gesturing to the horizon, that she doesn't even notice the golden cloud emerging from the ferry.

"Lello!!!" Gwen insists. "LELLO."

Sally laughs, looking out to the ferry again to see who gets off, and---

She freezes in place.

[howtheyshine]

He knows where Gwen is the moment he sets foot (tentacle) on land. She's still holding that little piece of power he gave her for that purpose. So he can't lose his little sister. So he couldn't lose the human child he'd taken an idiotic liking to the last time he was here. He knows where Gwen is, and that is probably also where Sally is, which means they can both probably see him.

The panic is unforeseen and entirely foreign, a flavor he's never experienced before. But wounded ego and resistance to weakness keep him from turning into some small bird and darting off.

Instead, he snarls something in a forgotten language at the nearest unfortunate and smashes a tentacle through the wooden crates they're loading into a cart. A second blow flattens the cart too. Sally can see him, so she can see why she should stay away.

[sunshinesally]

Sally knows Yellow all too well at this point. Emotional outbursts, usually embarrassment, often evolve into displays of force. Looks like that much hasn't changed. And Gwen, of course, has never been afraid of Yellow. She's far too little to know why eldritch horrors should be scary and far too used to them to develop an aversion now. That's her brother! Her favorite guy! Even if he doesn't look like normal, there's a tiny core of forgotten magic housed in her little chest, a bead of godhood, that sings in recognition.

Gwen squeals in wordless delight as Sally scoops her up with one arm like a sack of flour and barrels shoeless down the hill, having left her Oxfords on the picnic blanket where she'd taken them off to sit. Stockings can be washed.

She doesn't think. With her free arm, she pulls whatever he has that can be considered a torso close to her, and hugs him tightly.

[howtheyshine]

The rising alarm and confusion around them doesn't make Yellow feel better. The arrival of Sally and Gwen makes him feel worse. They weren't supposed to notice and come here. The urge to recoil from Sally's hug gets barely overridden by the fear of hurting her or Gwen. Instead, he slides blue-black tentacles around the waist and neck of the person whose cart he destroyed and gently tightens his grip.

"Let- Unhand me, human."

[sunshinesally]

"Oh, stop," Sally scolds, still sounding as fond as ever. "I'll let go in a moment. Can't I just be glad you're home for a tick?" There's a warm, relieved, tearful laugh from where her face is pressed to him. Gwen babbles on alongside her.

(Is there a chance this isn't her Yellow? Of course. The Arthur Lester that spent some time here wasn't the same man that Crichton once knew. But something about the way Gwen recognizes him says something to her.)

It's only when she registers the fearful shouting of the person Yellow is threatening that she pulls away. "Oh--- Yellow, let him go!"

[howtheyshine]

He squeezes tighter in response, relieved to have something to focus on that isn't how much he missed being hugged. He didn't even remember being hugged until now. He hates Larson for making him forget, hates Larson for making him do so many things, hates that he didn't remember any of the reasons not to.

"Only if you get... get away from me."

[sunshinesally]

Sally frowns, furrowing her brow, and takes a step back. Whatever gets him to let go for the moment. They can talk about it after.

Lockwood Forest

[configuration_birdwatcher]

Something has been crashing through the woods, leaving a trail of trampled, crushed plants and the occasional dead animal. Not for food; the scavengers were the first to get to the deer corpses. Possibly for sport, but Bastion's experiences in recent years tell them it's more likely a monster on a furious rampage. One with enough of a conscience to avoid the town? Or one that just hasn't found it yet? It has been a suspiciously long time since the last disaster.

They peer around the splinters of a fallen tree. Their Togetic circles overhead.

[howtheyshine]

Yellow's immediate surroundings are quiet, thanks to his thrashing around. He's sitting in the half-formed shape of a massive wolf with a mane of tentacles, digging at a bare patch of earth and snarling to himself. There's nothing there to uncover or bury. He just can't stay still, not without all the thoughts and feelings spilling over again into attempts to smash trees or kill whatever creatures he finds.

Paradesium :]

[ss_buttcrack]

"Yellow?! Are you down here? Yellooooow!"

Sally told Crichton about Yellow's return, and then about how he seemed to vanish again almost as quickly. This time, at least, they have more reason to believe he's still somewhere on the island. Naturally, it falls to Crichton and his water jetpack to go look.

"Yellow...." he starts to call out, but it turns into a yawn. Jeez, how long has he been out here? "Come on buddy... you're worrying Sally... oof..." Overcome by exhaustion, he comes in for a landing and props himself up against a large outcropping of rock.

Crap, this came on far too suddenly. He looks around, trying to spot where this influence could be coming from, but he nods off moments later before he even has a chance to try to call for help.

[howtheyshine]

A bug in the accidental web. The triumph lasts for as long as it takes Yellow to shift sidelong into the mind opening up to him. He's overeager. Doesn't consider the familiarity of the presence--it's not Gwen, it's not Sally, who cares--except then he recognizes who it actually is.

Oh, fuck, he does care.

He backpedals hastily into a corner of the dream taking shape in Crichton's mind. His shape in the dream is somewhere between the towering nightmare that fought John so recently and the kid he forgot existed. A boy haunted by the ghost of a monster, in a place that Crichton probably never wanted to see again. Yellow doesn't know it, he can't read minds. But he wanted whoever he caught to be angry and afraid.

"What are you doing here?"

[ss_buttcrack]

"Oh... boy." Crichton says, once he starts to understand what he's seeing. He's a veteran of meetings in the mind at this point. Anger flashes like a brief spout of heated oil in a pan, but he tamps it down as he thinks of Sally, and how worried she was.

"Looking for you, Yellow. Sally is worried sick and she wants you to come home."

Shadows of his nightmares start to appear like figures in a fog. Something lurks at the edges, something with sharp teeth and sharper wit. Crichton would rather Yellow not be introduced to that.

"What are you doing to me? Let me out of this, man, and we can talk."

[howtheyshine]

Yellow growls, and the sound comes from the boy, the monster, the air itself.

Unfortunately, Crichton knows him well enough to tell the difference between Yellow angry and Yellow afraid.

"I don't want to talk."

[ss_buttcrack]

Crichton stands his ground against those growls. He's not a fan of how similar this feels to the talks he used to have with Harvey, but unlike those, he has trust that underneath everything, there's a soul worth saving in Yellow.

"Maybe you don't," he answers gently, "but I think we need to. I need to. So, can you humor me?"

[howtheyshine]

He hates this. It would be fucking easy to say no, if he didn't remember who Crichton was. If he didn't care about Crichton being happy, about making Crichton happy. And if he lets Crichton out, if they talk face to face, that will be even harder.

"Then... talk."

Forest

[hereticofthewilds]

Just as he's letting the rabbit go free again, he'll hear a quiet voice from behind ask, "Friend sad?"

Elsie stands a few feet back, her pink hair a softer shade, nearly peach, to match the brand new butterfly wings that flutter on her back. They were a gift from her father, and proof of who she really is--Princess Elsie, daughter of the archfey. She doesn't hold herself regally, however. In these woods, she's still just Elsie, and she wants to help her friend.

[howtheyshine]

Yellow's form coalesces into the tentacle-maned wolf-thing he often uses outside of town.

Friend sad?

Is he sad?

I- I'm- I'm angry.

Which doesn't begin to cover it.

[hereticofthewilds]

"Mm," she acknowledges that with a nod, not at all disturbed by the shape he takes.

"Why?"

gonna use brackets for his Mind Dialogue

[howtheyshine]

So many reasons he doesn't know where to begin. The prospect overwhelms him, squeezes at his brain and the sensibilities of his heart.

[Because... because I thought I could- Because John was right about me.]

No problem!

[hereticofthewilds]

She tilts her head in confusion, "Being right is bad?"

Re: No problem!

[howtheyshine]

Hold on, he needs to think about that one himself.

[I... didn't want him to be right. He said I hurt people, that I would hurt people. I tried to tell him I didn't, but he was right.]

So, as far as the question is concerned-- [It feels bad that he was right about... things I didn't want to be true.]

Paradesium

[blindwatchersees]

Those cracks in the mind have a name, and it’s a name written in the spiderwebbing hyphae of whispering mushrooms. Thick roots suddenly split and release thick clouds of sweet-smelling, hallucinogenic spores. The tunnels fill with dreams- mad, unfathomable dreams dreamt by fragments of a notion of an approximation of a person. Somewhere in the darkness, there’s the soft thrum of thousands of butterflies suddenly taking flight at once.

Those cracks in the mind have a name, and its sound is like carefree laughter and the tortured screaming of one who can see no escape from their demons. Pods growing along the walls suddenly open their mouths and start gibbering in alien languages, emitting the distorted aphasia of their neighbors with a fresh chaos. Some great fungal mass shifts, and it lets out an odd mycelium shriek as it brushes heavily against itself.

Those cracks in the mind have a name, and that name is Sheogorath.

[howtheyshine]

Power is the first thing that Yellow registers. Maybe not equal to the forces that control this place, but power, and it scares him. He's getting sick of being scared, but he also doesn't know how to not be.

Instead he recoils from that other presence, drawing his own power back and away from the areas he can feel the foreign entity taking notice. Foreign-familiar, he realizes. He knows this thing, in a sidelong way.

Who goes there?

[blindwatchersees]

A thing shambles out of the darkness, mounds of lion's mane forming a semblance of a flowing beard on a figure that pulls itself forth on creaking branch limbs, iridescent beetle-eyes glittering in its dark eye-hollows. When it opens several thorn-jagged maws to speak, the sound that comes out is like that of a whole flock of parrots trying to speak in tandem with their collection of stolen sounds.

"Sunshine, buttercups, unfathomable color. You have TAKING TOO LONG. Welcome!"

[howtheyshine]

Yellow is absolutely arrested by the sight and sound of it. It's beautiful, terrible--the kind of thing the word 'awe' was created for.

{You're magnificent.}

He gathers more of himself in as he approaches the other being, his psychic... density, for lack of a better word, building as he moves. Yellow bows a little when he starts to get closer.

{I know you, don't I? We've met in other shapes.}