[OPEN] Knock, knock.

[zarkoff]

Who: Everyone who wants in!
What: Daybreak's forces come and take out some purple fools and rescue some friends.
When: December 6th
Where: Daibzaal. Galra Central Command in the Outlands
Warnings: Fighting! Vengenace?



The quest to figure out what exactly is happening with the string of disappearances and reappearances leads to a certain lycan clan in the Outlands. The Galra are an acient clan who have amassed a large territory over the years, and make it known in no uncertain terms that their nattles have one of two outcomes: victory or death.

Their stronghold, Daibzaal, is a large technologically advanced fortress deep in the Outlands, where the dim light of the sun doesn't do much to penetrate the aura of darkness. Then again, maybe that's just the aura of darkness that comes hand in hand with what remains of a certain necromancer's Grimm friends.

[ooc: feel free to post your own top levels and thread out whatever shenanigans you would like! the ones I posted are just for organizational purposes!]

Comments

[unpocoloco]

He doesn't answer the unspoken question. He steps forward and closes that last bit of distance. Even if all he can hold is that giant paw, he'll do that. He's not properly warm, doesn't have the steady heartbeat of someone living, but he can hold on.

"I know. I know," He says. He knows all too well. It's so hard not to cry.

"You can rest soon, okay? We're going home. You just need to hang on until we can get you there." He pauses, hesitates, but says, "If you're smaller, I can carry you. Then you can sleep."

[hawkwardness]

< Don't know if I can. >

Show me what you can do, over and over and over, the transformations taking longer each time as he's given no time to recover. Show me. Do it, Tobias, show me.

The tank-thing has no expressions, and that's good. That's normal. < They made me change so many times. Had to. I had to do it to heal. >

[unpocoloco]

"Okay," He says. It's not, it's not. "That's okay, you don't have to. You'll just have to stay awake a little longer."

Maybe if he had better magic. Maybe if he had studied more.

Maybe if he'd just paid attention.

"I'm sorry, Tobias."

[hawkwardness]

< No, I... I'm too big. >

That's right, isn't it? He has to try. One last time and then it will be over. He sags, lying down as best as a creature with no legs can... and concentrates. Bird. Feathers. Sharp eyes. Wings.

Oh so slowly, much slower than normal, he begins to shrink. Inch by painful inch, rumbling with the tank's voice and breathing heavily, like he's running a marathon.

[unpocoloco]

He was told before not to watch. He was told it wasn't a pretty sight.

He lets go as Tobias starts to change but he only steps back enough to give the boy room. It's unpleasant. The noises make him wish he were someone else, someone better, more capable, equipped to deal with this. He doesn't touch, afraid of what he might cause.

"Hang in there, mijo, keep going. You're almost there.

He starts to kneel, to reach down. His body lights, up and down his arms he lets the shift take hold, knowing others are around but not caring. He's got to pull a bird into his arms.

cw body horror

[hawkwardness]

It is disturbing. Enormous bones make frightening noises when they crunch and bend, fortunately without pain for a change. And no sane person wants to hear the sound of muscles being rearranged. It's only audible because he's so large, fortunately. It'll quiet down soon.

Morphing makes no logical sense. Feathers sprout before he's much smaller, as long as a man's arm, and shrink along with the rest of him. For a moment or two, he has no eyes. The horn withdraws into his forehead instead of falling off. It's a real freakshow.

When he's finished, he's limp as can be. It's impossible to tell if he's alive or dead. Can overuse of magic kill?

cw: vivisection mention

[unpocoloco]

He knows those noises. He knows those noises intimately because once it was his body being taken apart, moved around, shifted. Even without that, he knows well the sound of broken bones.

He hates it, he hates it, he can't take this. He wants to escape his own mind, to turn around and run, but the boy needs him. He needs to stay.

It's hard to contain his own panic, but he fights and fights and when he sees the bird again he reaches down with skeletal arms and lifts the boy carefully. Feather, claw, talon, it's all being held close to his chest. He can tell Tobias isn't dead. He knows what dead feels like.

"Rest now, mijo," He whispers.

cw panic attack

[hawkwardness]

All it takes is a little bit too much pressure, the feeling of his wings being pinned, and he swears he's back in the laboratory. He's being crushed in a vice, his wing is going to bend and snap under the magical forcefield, he can't breathe, the air is being forced from his lungs...

No. No. That didn't happen. Héctor is not trying to squeeze him to death, snapping hollow wing bones in a way that hurts, unlike what Tobias himself was doing a minute ago. He's fine. He's free of the cage. And yet, he's letting out a pitiful screech and trying to fight his way free even though, flapping weakly. Fighting to live, to be free, to be safe...

[unpocoloco]

The moment the flapping and shrieking starts, he's dropping back down to his knees.

"Toby! Toby!"

He sets the bird down, letting go. His hands hover but he doesn't know what to do.

"Tobias, breathe. Please, it's just me...!"

[hawkwardness]

He settles after a few seconds, too exhausted to go on. As panic fits go, that one was pretty lame. Pointless, stupid. Nothing's squeezing him, he's not dying...

< Sorry. I don't know what I... Don't hold too tight. >

[unpocoloco]

"It's okay. It's okay, don't be sorry."

He's the one that's sorry. Two seconds in and he's already set the boy off. Dios, he doesn't know what to do.

"Lean against me, okay? I'm going to pick you up again." He proceeds to give that another shot.

[hawkwardness]

< Okay. > He sounds like he's already a million miles away. And he leans to one side, unwilling to get up and move closer. Just let him sleep. Let him rest. Maybe the world will make sense again when he wakes. Maybe none of this will turn out to be real.

[unpocoloco]

Again he lifts the bird up, letting those close hook around the bones of his arm. This time he doesn't hold Tobias. He just has to be careful with his balance as Tobias leans against his chest.

With time, hopefully, they'll be out of here.

[hawkwardness]

It's easier to clamp down with his talons than it is to be gentle, and it can't feel good. He's beyond thinking about it, though, out like a light this time. It's not quite sleep, but it's very very welcome. Safe. Not alone. Able to rest, finally, finally. Hopefully, he won't have to be aware of anything until he's placed on his nice familiar perch.