walk of shame

[galdorleod]

WHO: Howl & Ciel; Howl & you?
WHAT: On the afternoon of the second day of the TDM's events, Howl set out to make good on his lofty promise to take out Estinien. Once he found him, however, things did not go well. He returns at the end of the day with severe injuries, to be found by Ciel and whisked off for healing and rest. For the next several days, he stays sequestered in his room, but don't think he's so upset that he won't see visitors willing to give him sympathy and attention.
WHERE: Kenoma Lodestone (closed); Howl's quarters (open)
WHEN: Approximately April 27-April 30
WARNINGS: Description/discussion of Howl's pretty significant physical injuries; plus there's a good chance of self-loathing/self-destruction/vaguely suicidal ideation. He is a Kenoma after all, and he's having a bad time.

If you wanna plot something specifically for this, you can PM me here or poke me at lazdo/OddLazdo#2470!


CLOSED: for Ciel (April ~27)

[ The day is turning to late afternoon when the magic of a far-off returning stone glimmers beside the Regent's Lodestone. In the next moment, a large, sticky black mass of feathers appears. The Aion buried somewhere inside shivers in shock and relief as he realizes the spell finally executed, but that quick pulse of emotion drops off sharply as the cold floor crashes against the torment permeating through his entire body. And then, gradually, comes a pervasive aura of not just despair, but tangible physical pain, emanating off the broken wizard like poisonous gas.

A few cultists turn from their current tasks to gawk at the monster that is now, suddenly, bleeding profusely in the Regent's grand and austere hall. They glance at one another as if wordlessly debating who should approach, if anyone. Before any of them move, the pile of feathers does; it rises as if trying to turn itself into a pyramid before two distinct but mangled wings peel away from the mass, along with arms and legs. There is no head to speak of, or at least, no protrusion that can be recognized as a head.

The creature turns very slowly towards the nearest archway leading out of the Lodestone's hall and begins to shuffle towards it. It leaves a trail of blood and iridescent black feathers in its wake. The cultists gawk, unaware of what exactly to do, but to any fellow Kenoma Aions nearby, the creature's mind is familiar. This tortured glob of malleable feathers is clearly, obviously the Wizard Howl, and he is not well. ]

OPEN: for all (April 27-30)

[ In the days following his return to Achamoth, Howl has done his best to keep to himself. Unfortunately his best cannot account for the tenacity of the others here, who to his dismay, have somehow already found out what had happened to him. Whether they know the details, Howl has no idea, but the mere fact that people know that he returned to the city in defeat after a day of fighting inflicts a kind of humiliation on him so severe that he cannot bring himself to show his face outside of his room.

Sadly, this has not stopped people from contacting him through communion — or even attempting to visit. Howl can't decide which is more dreadful: being trounced so thoroughly or suffering the concern of others.

At the same time, it is so very boring in this room, and Howl has never been able to bear being alone with his own thoughts. Regardless of who you are, there's a strong chance he will answer your message, and a fairly good chance he will yell back at your knock that the door is open. ]

Comments

[vapour]

[ That makes sense. Estinien did to Howl what Childe did to Estinien, then. That's a difficult tactic to avoid when you're the one scurrying around to find your target while they lie in wait for you, even moreso if Howl was truly unprepared that Estinien might have some new abilities. Still, although they aren't fond of one another, Childe refrains from saying it should have been obvious that you have to always be prepared for the unexpected when confronting an enemy. He'll accept that Howl is basically a civilian being forced to do things like a soldier. A powerful civilian but a civilian nonetheless. ]

Yeah, I saw. He's evolving with his aion shell pretty quickly, if nothing else. As for his popularity . . . haha, I guess that comes with the territory of being a veteran fighter. You have everyone coming after you for a next time or you're busy yourself chasing a next time with an opponent yourself. Or both.

Did you escape or did he let you go?

[galdorleod]

[ Howl is still looking away, and might appear to be lost in thought and not even listening, but he narrows his eyes at mention of Estinien "evolving." That's right... they can all do that here, change and evolve and become stronger, all of them. If that's why he won — and there's an argument to be made that it is — Howl will just have to get stronger too, he thinks to himself.

The question prompts a sigh. How many times must he explain himself and go over it all again? Many more, he's sure, but that doesn't mean he has to enjoy it. ]

...He let me go. I was so sure he would not leave me without crushing my Shard, but to my surprise, he refused. [ pause. ] Do you think the other Pleroma convinced him not to kill any of us, somehow?

[vapour]

Doubt it. [ Childe speaks matter of factly, although there is a crease to his brow as he does so which suggests he is at least considering the information rather than brushing it off as impossible. ]

I can't imagine he wouldn't do what he felt he needed to do, regardless of the situation and what the others try to push him into doing.

... It's odd, though. He didn't have to crush your shard to take you out of commission, and if you were brought back to the Pleroma you might be a new ally, even. Leaving you in a heaping mess to bleed out if you couldn't get back yourself isn't what I would call merciful, either, so... it's definitely a curiosity as to why he did as he did. Maybe it was the best neutral response to him without being overly sympathetic or overly cruel.

...If your positions were reversed, what would you have done?

[galdorleod]

[ Howl goes still. With his eyes closed and neutral face turned slightly away from Childe, he looks calm and meditative. Inside his head, he's grappling with a surge of anger and annoyance. The wizard is well-practiced at keeping emotions like this from showing when he needs them to stay hidden, but that does not translate to being able to actually deal with them.

He doesn't trust Childe. He doesn't trust anyone here, and especially not someone like Childe. They might be expected to treat each other as comrades, but Howl has never been good at meeting the expectations of others.

After a long pause that speaks to his unwillingness to answer truthfully, he opens his eyes and glances sidelong back at his guest. There's the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ]

Crushed his shard, of course. [ His tone is wholly unenthusiastic. It's not the truth, but he's not about to admit to one of the Pets that he'd never crush another Aion's shard, no matter whose side they were on. ]

1/2

[vapour]

Oh, yeah? I'd let him go, probably. [ sounds like Childe's unconvinced. Then again, the lack of obvious indicators suggesting he finds Howl's answer a really sad attempt at lying make it difficult to really know what he's thinking. He could be accepting Howl's answer as face value truth. He could be telling the truth himself. Then again, one or both of those could be the exact opposite case in reality.

The uncertainty's made worse by the fact Howl doesn't trust him —and rightly so. Childe doesn't know whether he's trusted or not for certain, of course, but he's pretty sure he isn't.

—And that's the best thing the Harbinger can hope for from every single person here. He's learned that it's a lot easier when people don't trust you to pull the wool over their eyes and keep them guessing than the other way around. Sure, gullible people that trust anyone are the easiest— but only the first time or two. The longer they insist on trusting you, they begin to figure out what you're really on about once you play the traitor game with them long enough. They eventually know what you're lying about and how and when you aren't. If they're committed enough to figuring you out, then things start getting terrifying because they slowly learn to peel away at you and you don't know how to stop them anymore. They recognize your idiosyncrasies far better than those that don't trust you— and far better than you yourself.

Those that never let you in will always be expecting you to betray them, but they don't ever learn anything about you to really gain an advantage over you and you rarely gain a disadvantage from someone who never trusted you to begin with continuing to never do so.

The universal view of being untrustworthy is forged by human values of integrity. Understanding this and realizing being out of the constraints can work with well to one's advantage is a priceless tool in hot Childe lives as someone committed to bringing about the will of a tyrant. ]

Anyway, doesn't really matter what you choose. There'll always be a possible next time until one of you decides to actually grind the other's shard into dust.

[ he doesn't say it, but he's pretty sure from his observations of Howl and Estinien both so far that neither of them are capable of such deceptive cruelty. It's a more drawn out process than merely killing someone or even creating an indoor messed of the victim's body. There's little opportunity for nagging and uncontrollable emotions to cause a "it just happened" moment like they can cause a (visually violent) death.

In fact, Childe's already picked out the few he believes are capable of killing with true malicious intent on both sides—or, rather, those that either fundamentally do not understand or do not embrace the concept of life where they can methodically snuff life out without reason with ease. And he can count them all on one hand.

How accurate is his list? Who knows, he's well open to modifying it as time shows everyone's hand.

Finishing with his card pile, the Kenoma shrugs and reaches to place the deck face down on the night stand with a bit of stretching on his part. ]

I know you don't want any advice but I'm giving it to you, anyway. Do what you want with it.

[vapour]

[ Childe's expression wasn't particularly unserious before while chatting, but it looks like that with the new expression showing on his face as he prepares to say what he wants to say. ]

If you want to win against people like Estinien, you need to get off your high horse and realize that how you perceive yourself is worthless when it comes to facing an opponent.

You need to be able to lower yourself to the most vulnerable, lowest, piss-poor position possible. A hunter that doesn't understand what it's like to be hunted and helpless to do anything beyond escape certain death— whether too proud to accept that they could become such or simply because they're never fathomed a concept for themselves of it before— can always be surprised by what befalls them in an encounter one way or another. Their own strength and abilities and their opponents own mean nothing when your head spaces aren't on equal-level.

Even foxes can't catch their rabbits one hundred percent of the time. That's how hunters in the wild never go hungry. With this "flaw," the prey doesn't die out and can still flourish; and so the predators flourish, too. It's natural balance.

You can't afford that kind of game of chance in battle if you are serious about surviving to see the next one, though, especially not here. If you don't know how to hide from a hunter, if you don't know how to survive when you have no power whatsoever, how are you supposed be able to catch someone or something that does?

Also, always make sure you got something up your own sleeve to throw back in their face for whatever unsuspecting thing they throw at you. If that's as simple as you're willing to throw dirt in their face when they get too close to you, then so be it: that's still one thing they won't have expected from you before. The unexpected doesn't have to be flashy, it just has to be enough to give you that second of advantage that you need to turn things in your favor.

Honorable fighting where you show everything you got beforehand only works when both parties like the idea. No one in the Pleroma is going to fight with open-face tactics. They absolutely can't afford it, or the Regent wouldn't need us here to begin with.

[ Assuming the Regent actually really needs any of us even now, is the unspoken sentence at the end. ]

[galdorleod]

[ Howl does not believe Childe's claim that he'd have let Estinien go and immediately assumes that he's simply being argumentative on purpose, if not trying to intentionally irritate him. The fact that Childe does not elaborate on his reasoning only supports that assumption in Howl's mind. He watches the other man place the deck of cards on the bedside table and has a moment to wonder what that was all about — the strange organization of the deck, the way he put it back together, and now seems intent on leaving it here, all under the initial auspice of playing a game, a game that is clearly not going to be played anymore — but then comes the announcement of advice. Howl sighs. He doesn't have the energy to interrupt him and insist that he leave. Might as well let the man say his piece and hope he'll be on his way after.

Leaning back onto the pile of pillows behind him again, he stares up at the ceiling as Childe speaks. Judging by how his brow furrows slightly during certain points of his monologue, Howl is clearly listening, and clearly finding much to object to. More annoyingly, from what Childe is saying, he seems to be alluding to things that Howl intentionally left out of his story — "honorable fighting" — leading Howl to believe that he already knew exactly what happened before coming to see him. If that's the case, this visit is not so much annoying as it is insulting.

When it's all over, Howl finally looks back to Childe. He is exhausted, still in pain, and does not have the energy to argue with the wordy man, but his displeasure is still clear on his face. ]

So you came here to tell me not to underestimate my enemies in the future. [ Wow, he really needed a seasoned warrior to tell him that. Does he truly believe Howl can't already see what he did wrong and where things went wrong? Does he not consider for a moment how much he has obsessively thought about those very topics ever since he woke up in his room?

Bitter and depressed, he looks away again. ]

You're right. I'd rather run away than put my own life at risk. I'm not a killer like you are. And I'm sure the Regent will notice that fact very soon.

[ Something akin to "get out" are the next words on his lips. ]

[vapour]

[ There is initial silence from the other Kenoma. His expression is serious but otherwise blank. The first sound to come from Childe in any manner is the deliberate scraping of the chair as Childe rises to his feet. He puts it back where he pulled it over from but returns to the bed to loom over Howl, blue eyes dark like the abyss with not a hint of light able to be caught by them. ]

...Hmm? Was that what I told you just now? I don't have a very good memory, so I guess we'll just have to go with that~.

[ there's something deranged in the expression Childe offers, his eyes seeming to be boring through the wizard's flesh, through sinew and bone— sizing him up maybe, it evaluating how easy it would be to snap his neck or prolong the healing of his injuries. He looks like a killer now, as if suddenly stepping into the characterization bestowed upon him by the other to be more "accurate" in reflecting this reality.

It may seem like several agonizing minutes, but mere seconds stretch the true timespan after Childe speaks before he finally leans down to lower his head and bring his mouth near the wizard's ear to whisper. Something skin-crawling is thick in the drawl that carries his words, but it's honestly difficult to be able to tell if it is actually a threat from Childe himself versus simply a statement driving home that Howl should feel threatened by his own words, instead. ]

Well now... don't you think, then, Howl... that you really just aren't running quite fast enough these days?

[ There is the unsettling feeling of a nasty little upward curve to his mouth as he speaks, although once again it's impossible to verify as there is no physical contact despite the closeness.

Without waiting for an answer, the Harbinger will pull back to straighten himself and simply turn away to head for the door.

If he had anything valid to say in actual response to Howl, nothing ever comes. ]

[galdorleod]

[ If the deranged turn in Childe's demeanor disturbs Howl, the wizard does not show it. Well-practiced in maintaining various types of poker faces, he stares right back at him with the same exhausted and bitter expression — with the exception of the dragging of the chair, which reminds him immediately of Emet-Selch's theatrics at the dinner with the Regent, and makes him briefly roll his eyes. But as unfazed as he looks, he is again clearly listening... and it's not until Childe chooses to explicitly threaten him that Howl says or does anything.

He would have been content to leave this conversation as it was. Understand it for the power move that it turned out to be, and tell himself half-heartedly that Child was full of crap and didn't know what he was talking about. But not anymore. Not after that. No, he has nothing of substance to say in response either — but a wizard of his pedigree would never leave a threat like that unanswered, nor do they tend to hold back. And yes, Howl is basically a civilian in this war when it comes to tactics and combat warfare and even just pure cowardice — but in terms of sheer magical power, he's a civilian holding a rocket launcher. A civilian prone to pettiness and temper tantrums, who doesn't hesitate to fire.

As the Firebrand turns his back to him and begins to walk away, Howl sits up and throws one of his hands forward. The front door to his room suddenly flies open, banging loudly as it hits the door stopper, accompanied by a mighty gust of wind that seems to suck everything towards the opening with ferocious force. And with that, the piles of excessive mess and clutter in his room suddenly come alive, as if an industrial-grade leaf blower has been pointed at a pile of glitter.

Clean and dirty laundry, library books, loose papers, half-burnt candles, damp towels, empty wrappers, seashells and knicknacks and stuffed animals, and even shedded black feathers from Howl's past transformations — a cacophony of junk rushes past Childe through the open door, battering him on their way out and shoving him along towards the exit at the same time. In the same instant, a servant's cart parallel to Howl's bed lurches forward towards Childe's turned back; covered in dirty dishes and half-filled cups and half-eaten old food, it clatters loudly from the initial lurch forward, but it's moving so fast that it's at Childe's back in less than a second, poised to crash into him mercilessly and further ushering him the fuck out of Howl's room.

And being one who goes all out in pettiness, a small garbage can near the front door, which logically should have been one of the first things expelled by the hurricane winds, instead sits motionlessly at the beginning of the gust — and finally moves once Childe is close enough for it to fly upwards, opposite to the gust and clearly being moved by a separate and very intentional difference force, to throw its particular contents into his face.

The entire retort takes less than a few seconds, with Howl fully intending to kick Childe out of his room so swiftly that nothing more can or will be said. If and when he's been ejected into the hallway, along with most of the rest of the garbage, the door slams shut and locks. ]