Dillon Cole || Scorpion Shard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
orderfromchaos) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull_logs2012-07-31 09:32 pm
orderfromchaos) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-07-31 09:32 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN!] Beneath the halo of a streetlamp -
Who: Dillon and YOU. Anyone who might be roaming at night, or he could help out someone who got stuck after hours.
When: At night, after sirens, any time in the last week.
Where: Wandering all over the island.
Summary: Dillon exploring.
Warnings: Here be monsters? Dillon repels the Seeping Darkness, though. His permissions post is here.
At first, it had just been early mornings on the roof of Towers, breathing in the cool pre-dawn air, tasting the breeze off the North Pacific as he watched the crumbled concrete resume its smooth, undamaged shape a few minutes earlier than it should . It was such a relief, to just let the crackling, fissioning, endless power of the scorpion star spill out of him, to let it fling itself against the darkness, batter it back a few grudging feet, and draw down the constant riptide inside him.
But soon enough he was spending whole nights on the streets, meandering through the transformed city, deliberately avoiding walking in a grid, just to be contrary, observing the monsters and the people tough enough to hunt them. It's completely different from the port in the day, but it's still an inextricable part of the pattern.
When: At night, after sirens, any time in the last week.
Where: Wandering all over the island.
Summary: Dillon exploring.
Warnings: Here be monsters? Dillon repels the Seeping Darkness, though. His permissions post is here.
At first, it had just been early mornings on the roof of Towers, breathing in the cool pre-dawn air, tasting the breeze off the North Pacific as he watched the crumbled concrete resume its smooth, undamaged shape a few minutes earlier than it should . It was such a relief, to just let the crackling, fissioning, endless power of the scorpion star spill out of him, to let it fling itself against the darkness, batter it back a few grudging feet, and draw down the constant riptide inside him.
But soon enough he was spending whole nights on the streets, meandering through the transformed city, deliberately avoiding walking in a grid, just to be contrary, observing the monsters and the people tough enough to hunt them. It's completely different from the port in the day, but it's still an inextricable part of the pattern.
aaa I hope this format is okay!
The miasma rolls back as he approaches, a bright figure unlike any other. He sees the young man and pauses, a strange if not unearthly sort of intelligence in those golden eyes. ]
\o/
Hello.
[It's quiet and inadequate, but he says it without cringing or scrambling for something else. It is what it is.]
o9
He meets the other's gaze squarely, a warmth to his presence that shows in his eyes. ]
Good evening.
no subject
[It's unsure, a little awed, understated and humble. He knows what he feels, but he gave up on that two years ago, doesn't want to name it even in his thoughts.]
...is that rude to ask? I - it doesn't seem like it should be. At a certain point. I'm sorry if it is.
no subject
It is not.
[ It is a question he has been asked many times over, and not once has he ever been offended. ]
I am a Maker.
no subject
I fix things. Or, I'm supposed to, anyway. I think.
aaa I lost this somehow @_@;
He considers the young man solemnly but not without warmth. ]
What more would you learn?
no worries <3 TLDR OTL
[He trails off. He trusts the lion, in ways he recognizes but doesn't understand, but he doesn't know how to talk about the parasite without sounding like he's trying to shift blame. He doesn't know how to explain it at all, or what the thing was properly called, and it seems like way too much to just dump at someone else's feet. It's been his to carry for a long time. And - dude. Talking lion, he's done weird stuff, but this is...something.]
Sorry. Just been thinking about a lot of stuff tonight, I guess.
no subject
And the monsters.
They almost certainly couldn't keep out the monsters.
His bear claws were getting a thorough work-out tonight. There seemed to be something on every street, a mutated, staggering lump of flesh for every road, and the thought of any of them getting into someone's home-
Warsman jerked his arm back and his claws slid out of the humanoid creature in front of him, splattering dark blood and viscera onto the pavement and across his boots from four neat lines that split it from chest to hip. The creature dropped to its raw, broken knees in front of him and he stepped away, breathing a shallow legato. The third tonight- but as he looks up, observing his surroundings again, he realises that there's something different here. Things seem less ruined, somehow, in a way he recognises but can't quite pinpoint, as if someone had taken the time to clean away some of the decay.
He's cautious as he approaches the trail of repair, a black figure slinking from shadow to shadow, but hopeful too. And it's his hopefulness that's rewarded when he sees the boy walking ahead of him.
"Dillon?" He surprises himself with the sudden sound of his voice, gently puzzled and concerned.
no subject
"Hey, Warsman." He waves, a little sheepishly. His field doesn't actively repel monsters, though he doubts they much like it; but coincidence takes care of him. It usually does, even if he has to nudge it a bit.
"I guess you're...keeping busy." The euphemism sounds silly, and he makes a face at himself as soon as he says it.
no subject
"Something like that," he answers, just as awkwardly. The man he is now is precisely the man he didn't want to expose right away, blood-stained and battle-ready. Ideally he'd have confined that face to the dark of the night, but it's turned out that said night is far more unusually populated than he originally thought.
He looks down at his claws, glinting faintly in the dark, and quickly lowers his hands so that the blades are safely by his side. "I came through here earlier this week and didn't like the thought of how it might look at night. I was right to be worried." He pauses. "What are you doing out here?"
no subject
He's immaculate as usual, but his body language is clearly more relaxed than he is during the day, his stance loose and easy.
"You know," he adds gently, "I wasn't always - I've done a lot of things I regret. I'm not going to judge you for any of this."
no subject
And he can definitely understand the need to burn off energy, even if 'making energy' sounds overwhelmingly mysterious to him. Before he can ask, though, Dillon's tone softens, and he feels a short twist under his feet as he realises just what he means.
"N-no, it's not-" '- what it looks like'? He breaks off, breathing nervously for a few moments before giving a firm shake of his head. "I wanted to fight off some of the monsters around here. It didn't seem as though the police ever came here, so..."
no subject
"It seems like a really good thing to do," he agrees. "I didn't mean it was like my mistakes, or bad, or whatever. Just, that I don't...I've met things that ate people's souls. A little monster blood won't shock me. That's all."
no subject
"I see. Thank you." Even so, he finds himself absently scraping at his boot on the sidewalk, trying to get the worst of it off- though his attention is focused back on Dillon now, head on one side. "Making energy and creatures that eat people's souls... being out after dark like this must barely register as strange to you."
It's an off-hand comment rather than an accusation. Dillon's puzzled him since their first meeting, after all.
no subject
He gazes around the otherwise-deserted street.
"You going anywhere in particular, or just roaming?"
no subject
That doesn't mean he isn't embarrassed when he catches himself lapsing back into silence again. "Ah, I'm sorry. I just can't lose focus while I'm out here." He glances back at Dillon, still thinking. "Can you ward off monsters as well?"