Héctor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unpocoloco) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
daybreakacademy2019-08-02 01:17 pm
unpocoloco) wrote in daybreakacademy2019-08-02 01:17 pm
Why should I worry? Why should I care? I may not have a dime but I got street savoire faire
WHO: Héctor and OTA
WHERE: Around campus, Soliel, Campus again, texting from Avery's, a Morgue
WHEN: Late August, forward dated
WHAT: A man tears himself away from his wildest dream, does some necromancy, becomes a dog then a doll, then breaks into the morgue WITH HELP??
WARNINGS: The big spoilers, a (temporarily) dead(?) dog, corpses and other death things (Use prose or action as you wish.)
Giddy and Distracted
There's new life to his bones. Metaphorical life of course. They'd let him back home. Finally, at last, he'd gone home. He'd danced. He'd cried. He hugged his daughter. And then all that again for her Quinceñera. People stared but he didn't see them. They whispered, but he didn't care. For a few short weeks, he was the happiest man in the world. The only trouble was that he had to come back.
It broke his heart, of course. Leaving again, saying goodbye. But he went and that meant he could go back again. And again and again and someday, hopefully, he could stay. And on that day... on that day he'd tell her everything. Even the hard stuff. It wouldn't matter then because it would be behind them both.
He doesn't dream but when he closes his eyes he's still there. And so he closes his eyes often, singing out loud where he walks and humming to himself in alteration, songs of daughters and wonderful things in the world. He swings around corners and dances on steps just because. Sometimes his leg will give and he'll wince and stop, but it happens noticeably less than it should. Perhaps the life in his bones isn't entirely metaphorical after all.
He's dancing again, miming it to himself with an invisible partner smaller than he, humming along to a song in his head. And not paying the slightest attention to where he's going or he's bothering now.
A Dog Named Chorizo // CW: animal death implied
A deep breath, deep breath out. This is what they came back for, seeing if there was a way to do more about this. Imelda assures him that this time won't be like the last and he believes her. If anything, he thinks she might be more flustered this time than he is. So he'd been a ghost for a little while, Necromancy wasn't a perfect science. Or maybe it was, what does he know, but they're doing their best.
Their best, this month, doesn't seem to result in much though. They went over the runes, the incantations. He tested shifted a few times over. Nope. Still dead. And so, they call it in and he bids her goodnight. He's got errands to run in Soliel before the dawn. It's an awfully busy night tonight. Maybe some kind of party. He makes his way down towards the shop at the end of the street, not paying much mind to it when he hears a frantic cry behind him. He turns too late-- or perhaps just in time. A car screeches to a stop but the faint thud comes anyway.
His breath catches in the shock of it. But then, something weird happens. His head clouds. An ache builds. He sways on the spot, stumbling a moment.
His body drops down.
He wakes a moment later, still aching. Immediately, it's clear something's wrong. He tries to rise, to shake his head, but his limbs are... not his limbs. He yelps and immediately the concerned gathering of people jumps back. A teenage girl cries out in joy, calling a name that isn't his. She starts forward, arms spread like she's going to hug him. With a leash in her hand.
He bolts. Stumbling on all fours, he runs off down the street, past the cars, dodging another that nearly hits him and scrambling to the sidewalk. Where, where-- oh no...
Up ahead, another crowd has gathered. This one just a little bit more panicked than the last. They're crowded around a body. His body. A man checks for his body's pulse, finds none, and then tries resuscitation. Two hands on the sternum and pressing, the chances of breaking his brittle bones that way all too high. He tries to say, "No, no!" But all that comes is barking. There's that faint crack. He doesn't know if anyone hears it but him but the thought of it alone is enough to make him whine.
He hears someone call for an ambulance. There's only one thing left to do.
He lungs through the crowd and gets his teeth around his own ankle, pulling. He gets a good few inches and some alarmed cries before a solid whap has him letting go. He whines, but all he can do is try again.
A Ruff Time Of Things
After several rounds of running away from a very unhappy girl and trying to pull a corpse from some very unhappy people, said corpse is, eventually, picked up. He watches himself be declared dead on site before they haul him up, cover him with a blanket, and drive off. He's got a pretty good idea of where his body's going. Whining on the street is going to get him nowhere.
His only hope is to go whining at some doors. He tries to find whoever he thinks can help. In the dead of night, that may not be much. Worse, he has no idea how to get them to actually help him. For all intents and purposes, he looks and sounds like a dog.
Have they stuck his body in the cold storage yet? Are they already starting autopsy? How much time does he have before they decide cremation is an option and he's got nothing left to go back to? His whining increases and so does his scratching at doors.
Dolled Up - Pre-established CR Only
Everything is still several feet too tall. He's too short. His body is still wrong. He'll admit Avery's craftsmanship is nice but a plush doll body is just not a real body. At least he can talk now. And sort of text. Slowly. With soft stubby hands.
He gets to work messaging... pretty much whoever he can about this. Desperate times may call for desperate measures.
Hola, it's Héctor. I know it's late right now but I have a really, really, big important favor to ask. Please respond quickly, it's a little time-sensitive. Gracias.
Morgue Break - Pre-established CR Only
[See comments below! These will be a bit of a free for all joint thread. Jump in the "meet up" to give a sense of the group that's going. The actual Morgue Break will come once that's been somewhat established.]
WHERE: Around campus, Soliel, Campus again, texting from Avery's, a Morgue
WHEN: Late August, forward dated
WHAT: A man tears himself away from his wildest dream, does some necromancy, becomes a dog then a doll, then breaks into the morgue WITH HELP??
WARNINGS: The big spoilers, a (temporarily) dead(?) dog, corpses and other death things (Use prose or action as you wish.)
Giddy and Distracted
There's new life to his bones. Metaphorical life of course. They'd let him back home. Finally, at last, he'd gone home. He'd danced. He'd cried. He hugged his daughter. And then all that again for her Quinceñera. People stared but he didn't see them. They whispered, but he didn't care. For a few short weeks, he was the happiest man in the world. The only trouble was that he had to come back.
It broke his heart, of course. Leaving again, saying goodbye. But he went and that meant he could go back again. And again and again and someday, hopefully, he could stay. And on that day... on that day he'd tell her everything. Even the hard stuff. It wouldn't matter then because it would be behind them both.
He doesn't dream but when he closes his eyes he's still there. And so he closes his eyes often, singing out loud where he walks and humming to himself in alteration, songs of daughters and wonderful things in the world. He swings around corners and dances on steps just because. Sometimes his leg will give and he'll wince and stop, but it happens noticeably less than it should. Perhaps the life in his bones isn't entirely metaphorical after all.
He's dancing again, miming it to himself with an invisible partner smaller than he, humming along to a song in his head. And not paying the slightest attention to where he's going or he's bothering now.
A Dog Named Chorizo // CW: animal death implied
A deep breath, deep breath out. This is what they came back for, seeing if there was a way to do more about this. Imelda assures him that this time won't be like the last and he believes her. If anything, he thinks she might be more flustered this time than he is. So he'd been a ghost for a little while, Necromancy wasn't a perfect science. Or maybe it was, what does he know, but they're doing their best.
Their best, this month, doesn't seem to result in much though. They went over the runes, the incantations. He tested shifted a few times over. Nope. Still dead. And so, they call it in and he bids her goodnight. He's got errands to run in Soliel before the dawn. It's an awfully busy night tonight. Maybe some kind of party. He makes his way down towards the shop at the end of the street, not paying much mind to it when he hears a frantic cry behind him. He turns too late-- or perhaps just in time. A car screeches to a stop but the faint thud comes anyway.
His breath catches in the shock of it. But then, something weird happens. His head clouds. An ache builds. He sways on the spot, stumbling a moment.
His body drops down.
He wakes a moment later, still aching. Immediately, it's clear something's wrong. He tries to rise, to shake his head, but his limbs are... not his limbs. He yelps and immediately the concerned gathering of people jumps back. A teenage girl cries out in joy, calling a name that isn't his. She starts forward, arms spread like she's going to hug him. With a leash in her hand.
He bolts. Stumbling on all fours, he runs off down the street, past the cars, dodging another that nearly hits him and scrambling to the sidewalk. Where, where-- oh no...
Up ahead, another crowd has gathered. This one just a little bit more panicked than the last. They're crowded around a body. His body. A man checks for his body's pulse, finds none, and then tries resuscitation. Two hands on the sternum and pressing, the chances of breaking his brittle bones that way all too high. He tries to say, "No, no!" But all that comes is barking. There's that faint crack. He doesn't know if anyone hears it but him but the thought of it alone is enough to make him whine.
He hears someone call for an ambulance. There's only one thing left to do.
He lungs through the crowd and gets his teeth around his own ankle, pulling. He gets a good few inches and some alarmed cries before a solid whap has him letting go. He whines, but all he can do is try again.
A Ruff Time Of Things
After several rounds of running away from a very unhappy girl and trying to pull a corpse from some very unhappy people, said corpse is, eventually, picked up. He watches himself be declared dead on site before they haul him up, cover him with a blanket, and drive off. He's got a pretty good idea of where his body's going. Whining on the street is going to get him nowhere.
His only hope is to go whining at some doors. He tries to find whoever he thinks can help. In the dead of night, that may not be much. Worse, he has no idea how to get them to actually help him. For all intents and purposes, he looks and sounds like a dog.
Have they stuck his body in the cold storage yet? Are they already starting autopsy? How much time does he have before they decide cremation is an option and he's got nothing left to go back to? His whining increases and so does his scratching at doors.
Dolled Up - Pre-established CR Only
Everything is still several feet too tall. He's too short. His body is still wrong. He'll admit Avery's craftsmanship is nice but a plush doll body is just not a real body. At least he can talk now. And sort of text. Slowly. With soft stubby hands.
He gets to work messaging... pretty much whoever he can about this. Desperate times may call for desperate measures.
Hola, it's Héctor. I know it's late right now but I have a really, really, big important favor to ask. Please respond quickly, it's a little time-sensitive. Gracias.
Morgue Break - Pre-established CR Only
[See comments below! These will be a bit of a free for all joint thread. Jump in the "meet up" to give a sense of the group that's going. The actual Morgue Break will come once that's been somewhat established.]
no subject
Actually... Might have an idea for you if you wanna help me pull it off.
[She's aware that a heist isn't exactly the best time for 'make everyone feel included', but she's also not one to turn down an extra pair of hands. More people means less work for her, right?]
no subject
[Unless they do and he's swatted at, but he trusts his own reflexes!]
no subject
Jail's plans are likely a little unorthodox, but he'll probably think it's a good idea. Much like the doll body, Toki has been a little unnerved with the telepathic bird voice, but he's making an effort not to show it as he addresses Tobias's idea.
"Why a dragonfly and a not a regular fly? That would be way less suspicious!"
no subject
These are a little trick of mine. They're like smoke bombs, but they got sleeping gas in 'em.
[She spins it on the tip of one finger as she talks, apparently unconcerned about the risk of dropping it.]
Letting a guard catch a nap for an hour or two might be less suspicious than letting 'em see anything to begin with. Think you're fast enough to drop one of these near somebody without getting caught?
no subject
"Yes! I can totally do that!"
He's more than a little excited to potentially be useful, instead of always running off to find someone more capable of helping.
no subject
"Thank you, both of you." And then as for Tobias, "People are less likely to swat at a dragonfly than a regular fly. That'll work out very well. With everyone here we can probably break all the different locks and things... All that leaves is the actual carrying me, my body, out. Presumably to Jail's car...?"
no subject
Don't touch 'em, is what I'm saying here.
[She's... probably joking about that. Then again, even if she is, touching buttons in a car that Jailbreak's modified without being completely certain what they do might result in enough of a disaster to be its' own punishment.]
no subject
[Who would've thought it'd actually come in handy? He only morphed the thing because he was bored.]
no subject
"Uhh, your body. It's just a skeleton right?"
He'd seen the skeleton when the building had collapsed on Héctor, but then he'd also talked about his body rotting in the bathtub during a previous failed necromancy experiment.
"Or is it, like...?"
Really gross. He could pick up bones and put them in a bag and run out, but... flesh that may or may not be in some squishy state...
no subject
As for Toki's question, he can't really grimace in this body, but he is in spirit. He knows where this is going. He's not happy about it either.
"The body stays however I leave it. I was walking through town so, not bones. I have a rune on it, thanks to Ekkehardt, so it shouldn't be rotting anymore but... well, it's a corpse and it's in a freezer and there's probably a sheet over it. It's going to be cold, somewhat heavy, and-- and awkward." Naked. It's naked. He cannot long for death for he already is dead.
"Oh, and uh, I may or may not have mentioned, I was kind of a dog before the doll thing and I tried to drag it. The ankle is going to be a bit of a mess."
no subject
"And if you're squeamish about carrying a dead body, I can take care of it." It's not the first corpse he's had to cart around, and he knows it won't be the last.
no subject
"I'm pretty sure something broke, sternum or rib. They tried CPR, you know how that goes." He waves a flappy little doll hand. "We can worry about it later. This sounds good! As a plan. Jail can get a blueprint, Tobias can scout it, Toki can send in the sleep grenade, we bust in, pick up my body and my things, hop out the back door to Jail's car, drive on out! Imelda and I can set things back to normal, it's perfect! What could go wrong?"
no subject
C'mon. You never ask what could go wrong, you know better. That's just asking for Murphy's law to come kick your ass.