open | i heard a scream in the woods somewhere

[burying]

Who: Kieren Walker + You!
What: Kieren struggles with the consequences of his Free Runner Feat.
When: The Month of February
Where: Milton; Milton wilds.

Content Warnings: Will be listed in individual prompts.



permissions are here | contact: heolstor / _heolstor for questions/plotting

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✞ TO SAVE A LIFE I DIDN’T HAVE

[burying]

cw: minor themes of depression/suicide ideation; zombie-horror; zombie-related gore; depictions of gore + animal gore;

[ He goes out early, before even the faint hum of civil twilight reaches the northern skies. Or is it late? Who knows, with what little daylight there is these days.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, exactly, but he has an idea of where to go. He’s watched, noticed the directions people come from when they go out hunting or see to their traps. The places where game can be found. He knows what he needs, and he doesn’t want it, but he knows he can’t put it off any longer. He can't eat regular food, he can't even eat the freaky mushrooms that've been messing around with people this month. What if it gets too much and he ends up killing someone? What if he completely loses control? At least with the hunger where it is right now, he’s able to keep a hold of himself. But he doesn't know how long it'll last.

Maybe if he tries to sate it this way, maybe he can keep a hold of himself. Maybe it'll be enough. Maybe it means he won't attack a person.

(Or maybe he should just give up and end it before he has to do any of that.)

But he keeps walking, and the woods are quiet. Soon enough, he finds what he's looking for. Out in the snow, he sees it: a rabbit caught in snares, or the half-frozen carcass of a deer felled in the night. His stomach rolls unpleasantly, desperately. And all he can think of is food.

Dropping to his knees in the snow, he pulls off his gloves. His hands shake, and he knows it isn’t the cold. He doesn’t feel the cold. But he reaches around for a good-sized stone, digging around in the snow — he can't think about it too hard. He aims for the head, raises the stone, and brings it down with a sickening, wet, crunch of a sound. One, maybe twice.

(He remembers the sound Lisa Lancaster's skull made as they rammed her head, trying to shatter and split the bone.)

He scrambles with shaking hands, grabbing the bloodied brain matter with his fingers. He doesn't hear his whimpers, his face screwed up as he crams it into his mouth — wolfing it down with quiet, shuddering sobs.

He's not alone.

He freezes, someone behind him — and his hands and mouth bloodied. He doesn't dare move. He's dead, he knows he is. And maybe it's better, maybe it's better they just put him down now. ]

[desperate_times_right]

[Chloe’s been setting snares ever since Fraser taught her to do it. To varying degrees of success at first, but by now she's pretty good at it, and has set up little 'fuel stations' for herself along the route she takes to practice with her power. Seeing a guy (?) crouched over her snare, chowing down on her fucking rabbit makes her furious.

She shines her flashlight on him like some weird rabbit-cop.]

Hey, asshole, get your own!

cw: animal gore

[burying]

[ The bite of anger makes him jump, the moment of being frozen in his discovery quickly broken. Kieren scrambles back and away — legs kicking slightly to scoot himself back in the snow. There's gore smeared on his mouth and hands, which he holds up in a defensive gesture. His eyes are wide, fearful. ]

S-sorry— I'm sorry— I just—

[ It becomes painfully obvious now he's moved away: the ruined mess of animal skull in the snow. He hasn't touched the body, the meat. ]

cw: animal gore

[desperate_times_right]

[Caught, her thief scrambles back, the beam of the flashlight sweeps over his face and - shit, it's just a kid. The sharpest bite of her anger fades away, if he's like her but has no one to help him no wonder he's doing this. It's hard to tell much in the dark, but he really does look awful, and the mess he’d made of the rabbit says he doesn't really know what he's doing.]

… I've got a knife, if you want to cut it?

[burying]

[ Kieren blinks, stunned, confused. She's... offering him a knife. He stares for a long moment, quivering. He doesn't know what to say, how to react. She's just... offering him a knife to cut it, just like that?

He speaks before he can stop himself. ]

I— I can't eat the meat. Not that part.

[ He means the body. ]

[solitarysoul]

Um.

[Levi blinks at Kieren. This is not what he expected when he went out to check his traps, but he seems more confused then angry.]

If you wanted some you could have just asked.

[burying]

[ Oh... shit. Kieren's frozen, deer in the headlights — staring in horror. ]

I'm sorry— I'm. I.. I can explain.

[ Can he? ]

[solitarysoul]

[His rifle's still on his back, at least. Levi makes no move to draw it.]

Uh, okay.

[He assumes its just 'I was hungry' but if Kieren wants to explain Levi will let him. He hasn't noticed what part of the rabbit Kieren is eating, but even if he did it wouldn't tip him off to the undead. That's not how it worked in his world.]

cw: animal gore

[burying]

I know this looks bad. But... but I'm not a bad person.

[ He's slow to move, backing off. He can still taste the blood on his lips and it makes him shudder. It'll soon become evident why he's so frightened: the mess in the snow. The body untouched, but the head crushed, barely unrecognisable. ]

I just... I don't eat like other people. I— I can't.

[jackdawvision]

[Edward moves as quiet as a mouse when he wants to, and he often wants to—his method of hunting is stalking his prey through the trees, then dropping down on them with both blades out to spear them through the neck. It's a quick death, and it does the least damage. There's always putting together a snare, and he's been trying that lately, but most of his snares have broken recently so he's resorted to ol' reliable.

He'd brought down this deer carcass just a short time ago, but had heard the crackling of twigs while he was halfway through skinning it. He scrambles back up into the trees as fast as possible, and peers down at—uh, that's just some kid.

...that's some kid eating the deer's brains. Okay?

From above Kieren, Edward says, with some confusion:] Really, lad, the brain?

[burying]

[ Jesus, there's a fucking man in the trees. Kieren's staring upwards in horror, scrambling back a little from the deer carcass in fright. Fuck, how was he supposed to know someone would be hiding up there all this time?

He doesn't know what to do. He's been found out, caught red-fucking-handed, open panic in his face. ]

N-no—?

[ Yeah, that's what he's going for. Openly lying, while he's half-lying in the snow with deer brain smeared across his mouth and hands. ]

[jackdawvision]

Ah, I apologize, that must be some other organ you’re chewing on.

[That is some piss-poor lying, and that’s more upsetting to Edward than someone chowing down on the brains of the deer he took down. He perches on a branch, giving Kieren an exaggeratedly sour look and shaking his head.]

At least learn to lie better when you’re caught. I might be old [he’s forty-two years old] but I’ve not gone blind yet, so don’t insult me that way.

[Implying he considers being lied to so obviously as a bigger insult than the theft.]

You could ask. I’ve no stomach for deer brains anyway, I would’ve gladly handed them over to you.

[burying]

You're hiding in a bloody tree—! [ His voice raises to a falsetto, panic and anxiousness as he gapes upwards at the man. As if that's supposed to explain it all. He's in a tree, and Kieren's spooked and he's been caught red handed and what else is he supposed to say? ] I know, alright? I know.

[ Kieren isn't much of a liar, and he's certainly not much of a good one when he does.

He brings his hands towards his face, resting his forehead against his wrists so not to cover himself in anymore gore than he has to — groaning softly. Oh, he fucking hates this. This is a fucking nightmare. ]

It's not just like that though, is it? It's never that simple.

[ He hates everything right now. ]

[flambeaux]

When Louis is starved for blood, he becomes pallid, drawn, and lightheaded. His vessels stand out a little. He's thirsty, hungry. Humans get like this too, but Louis's condition carries with it the taint of addiction. He tries to keep to animals for both practical and moral reasons, even if they're less nourishing and don't taste half as good. When he puts human blood in his mouth, he tastes the whole of a person, their life, their dreams, and he doesn't want that to go away. A vampire who loves humanity even while feasting on them, especially the evildoers--it's laughable, but Louis is not inclined towards laughter.

He has, by now, cobbled together a method for hunting large game with his new power. He washes whatever scents he might have off himself, follows what he hopes are deer trails, parks his sledge, and hides strategically. If he can take down a deer close at hand in a flash of fangs and knife, he won't have to run far. Even this small ambush takes a lot out of him, but a deer is large enough to sate his spent energy. Then he drags the meat back into town to barter with humans.

When Louis comes scouting and goes to investigate the carcass already there, he nearly reels as if he's going to be sick. The case is the opposite. Smell of blood in the air. His bright green eyes dilate nearly to black, fangs stirring in their gums as they extend, and that's his kill, and the deer is dead, blood spoiled by death and cold and spilled everywhere, damn it--

Hang on, he's seen this person around Milton... He knows that hunched desperation, the look of the hungry sobbing addict. He's worn it himself. Another immortal? But he's eating the brains. Vampires don't crave the flesh, and zombies (zombis, zonbis) have yet to attain the pop cultural status of vampires in Louis's time. Kieren is no thrall. Louis doesn't move from where he stopped half behind a tree.

"...Boy?" he asks, voice infinitely soft, as if he is coaxing the deer, as if the deer is alive and simply afraid instead of half-eaten on the ground like a mashed insect. If Kieren attacks him, Louis is confident in his ability to defend himself.

[burying]

Kieren swallows the mouthful, wincing as he does. He hates it. Hates the feel of it on his tongue, hates what he's doing. It's hard not to outright gag on it as it slides down, but there's some solace in it. He can eat it, the only thing he can eat, even if he doesn't know how it's possible.

Slowly, he raises his bloodied hands, a defensive gesture. He keeps his head down, but he's looking around with wide, scared eyes — trying to pick out the other man in the darkness of the woods.

"I don't want any trouble." he says quietly. He knows what this might look like, he knows how messed up it all looks. But he doesn't, he doesn't want any trouble. But he's terrified of what might happen.

And much like a deer, he bolts — hurling himself onto his feet with everything he can. Clumsy, unsteady. A body that doesn't fit right any more, and a dizzying high from what he's already eaten. He doesn't run towards the man, but makes off to run in the opposite direction to where he's sure he heard the voice from.

[flambeaux]

Louis considered the possibility that Kieren is just a human gone a little mad. When Kieren speaks, the thought is banished. He seems quite able to express his feelings--fear, mainly--and run off.

Louis is well and able to use the ability so like his previous vampiric speed. He follows in a blink with the quiet lope of a pursuing wolf, much more naturally than any ordinary human imbued with an unfamiliar feat. But he doesn't tackle him. Kieren moves wrong, and Louis is concerned.

"Boy, wait! I'm not goin' hurt you! Don't use this power, it'll make you starve! You're hurt!"

Not willing to run himself into near-starvation, Louis only has a short sprint in him before he'll refuse to run any more.

[burying]

The man's voice rings out in the cold, still air and it catches Kieren like a smack in the face. Shit. Shit he's right, and he skids to a halt in the snow so suddenly — not even the slightest out of breath. Not even breathing at all, save for one single exhale as his body bends — exhausted from the exertion.

He's already fucked, if he carries on he doesn't even know what'll happen to him. He can't die, not like that. He can't starve to death, he's sure. But he doesn't even know any more. His body feels more and more like a stranger's.

Finally, he straightens — hands clasped behind his head, careful not to get brain matter and gore into his hair. Shit, shit shit.

"Powers?" he calls back, cringing. "You... you mean those dreams?"

[maintiensledroit]

[ He's certainly not alone. Not with the wolf some twenty paces behind him, stock-still and staring. And growling.

It's a low, continuous snarl of sound, rasping in the wolf's throat and reverberating in its chest, but so far it isn't accompanied by a gnashing of teeth or short, sharp barks. The animal's hackles aren't raised; it isn't braced for a fight – but how would a boy unfamiliar to wolves aside from the strange, dangerous ones here know any of that? ]

It's all right.

[ This from a man who had taken longer to reach the area with the snare: he wears flannel and jeans with his winter coat, along with a Stetson on his head. He holds up one mittened hand, palm out – not toward the young man, but toward the wolf. ]

Diefenbaker, it's all right. We can afford to share.

[ He's squinting, blue eyes keen, as he slowly takes first one step, then another, toward the person crouched over his snare and the rabbit within. The – boy? – boy's body blocks Fraser's view of his meal; all he can tell from here is that it's a messy one. ]

Don't worry, son. You can have it. We don't mind, do we, Dief?

[ The wolf gives a huff, but the growl cuts off in its chest with an exasperated whine, not unlike a petulant human crossing their arms, petty. ]

[burying]

[ If his heart would beat, it would've given up by now. He's frozen stiff in horror at the sound of snapping and snarling — he remembers the wolves. He remembers them trying to get in his home, struggling against the door as vicious snapping teeth tried to force their way in.

He's dead. Deader than dead. He doesn't dare turn around, his eyes flicking downwards to the bloodied stone at his knees, in the snow.

But it's not just a wolf. There's a man, too. And his eyes close briefly in relief. Wasn't there a man with a wolf in Milton? Maybe it's.. it's him?

Jesus, what's he going to think when he sees? Because of course he'll see. ]

I'm sorry. [ He's too scared to turn around. Even with the wolf settling. He knows it's all over if he does. All he can do is stay where he is, his arms slowly lifting and spreading out. Surrender. Mercy. His hands are bloodied, fingers will wet with blood and gore. His head dips. He shakes. ]

I don't want trouble.

[maintiensledroit]

Neither do I. And neither does Dief. Right?

[ That last, as stern as a father speaking to a misbehaving child, isn't to the young man, but to the wolf, who grumbles and flattens his ears but backs off a few steps. Fraser watches him, then turns back to the young man, taking in the blood on his hands, the fingers spattered with what looks like brain matter. Was that what he was after? ]

It's all right.

[ He repeats himself, because he's not sure what else to say. Brain isn't an entirely strange thing to eat, especially here in this harsh environment where they have to work and fight for every nutrient and calorie, but it's not what he'd have expected anyone to go for first... and certainly not in such a horrifying way. The young man seems to have simply shattered the skull with a rock and picked through it for the tiny amount of brain available from a rabbit.

In his shock, the only clear thought that manages to break through is that he'll have to find some other way of tanning that hide, assuming it can be saved.

That thought, and this one: which is that the young man is submitting the way a criminal caught in the act might. On his knees, hands out and up, head down. He's shivering. His voice is full of shame. ]

What's your name?

adding on some cw: alien parasite horror / gore for this spookfest

[sputnik]

[ There's little else Konstantin can do but take walks on his worst nights, and days. He slips quietly from Vasiliy's bed, leaves a little note so that the other man won't worry if he wakes up, too — or so he'll know where to come find him if he wants to. 'Out for a walk. Edge of the woods. I'll be careful.'

He shrugs a coat on that he's finally managed to procure from a nearby abandoned home (none of Vasiliy's fit him; it's been an on-going problem,) and heads out. It's dark, either very late or very early, he's not sure. It's a relief, that darkness. It feels safe. If he lets himself, Konstantin can almost imagine that he's back in space instead, looking down at Earth from somewhere endless and black and cold.

He has a route he takes sometimes, out here near the edge of Milton. Close to the woods, and it's where he is now when he sees movement up ahead. Someone heading inside the line of trees, and the man freezes, body tensing for a beat or two before he follows. (He shouldn't, he knows, it could be dangerous and he's still recovering, still so consistently weakened here; if something goes wrong, what will he do....?)

But he can't shed the tendency to do the thing even if it's dangerous, to take the risk — that's who he is, who he's always been. And someone else could be in danger. Something's clearly.... wrong, this isn't normal. So the cosmonaut follows, quietly, knowing how to move his body so as not to make a sound despite the fact he is not a small man, sturdy and athletically-built. He has that degree of control over himself, his footsteps, shifts his weight the right ways.

It's after a few minutes of following the willowy stranger up ahead that Konstantin realises he recognises him. The young man whose porch he'd ended up collapsing on, a few weeks back... What in the world is he doing out here alone? Konstantin would call out for him, but it's obvious Kieren has some kind of intentional goal to reach, so he waits, and he follows.

And then he sees it — from where he's hanging back a safe distance, but close enough to observe. Kieren's found a deer. He must've known where to go, must be coming to collect it for food to bring back. That makes sense, and Konstantin's relaxing a little, about to make his presence known — step out of the dark trees and into the little clearing with an apologetic and amused laugh, admit that he'd followed him here thinking something was wrong, offer to help him carry the carcass back, when—

—He sees the sweet-faced boy fall to his knees and grab a rock and bash it against the animal's skull, and Konstantin feels the breath practically knocked out of him. No matter how much horror and gore he's known as of late, it never quite stops feeling like being caught in a nightmare. (And to him, a nightmare borne from reality, and as Kieren strikes the edge of the rock against hard bone and there's a sickening, resonating crack, he sees flashes of it in his mind, again and again: the creature that has claimed him as its home and leaves his belly when it needs to feed, attacking animals and then humans, tearing right into them, eating its way through skin and then scalp while they're still alive, still screaming — the crunch of skull, the rip and tear of teeth into soft wet tissue, the frenzied slurp of blood. It takes the victims several moments to die; it isn't instant.)

Kieren is eating the animal — its brain, just as frenzied, sobbing around it, and the scent of fresh blood is suddenly so sharp against the sterile cold air around them. Konstantin is reminded of another time, not so long ago, coming across a man here feeding on a deer's heart. And, like then, there was a sudden alarm, a fear to inhale the scent of that blood, to trigger a reaction from the parasite inside of him.

The cosmonaut takes a step back, and his shoe crunches against snow, and Kieren is freezing in place. He knows he's there. Konstantin lifts a hand, covers his own mouth and nose with his palm, tensing. He doesn't know what this is (but he knows what it... looks like, seems like, and he's gulped down the mix of bloody brains that Vasiliy's prepared for him with a similar frenzy a few times, when he gets desperate enough. When the thing inside of him is so hungry that he'd do anything to appease it.)

Is Kieren....... like him....? ]

I'm sorry— I didn't mean to sneak up on you.

[ It comes out slightly muffled. He's holding his other hand up, placating, but also as though to keep some distance. (And what if the boy attacks him next? He could grab a tree branch, maybe, use that, but it's a horrible thought; Konstantin's flinching right back away from it—) ]

I'm sorry.

fun for the whole family?

[burying]

[ It's a fraught moment. A crunch in the snow of someone there in the dark, and Kieren swallows his mouthful with difficulty. It rolls down, cold and cloying and he fights to keep it there — praying his stomach will accept it. He doesn't want to think about how any of this will work. His insides are long rotted, he thinks. Two or three weeks, he'd been gone.

He doesn't know how this'll go. Several paths, and all of them in his mind are going down to terrible fucking endings. Kieren sits with it for a long moment, some quivering calm as he considers his options. There are few, he knows, and he's frightened of all of them. He knows, deep down — he's fucked, either way.

Maybe he can make a run for it, run off into the night and sneak back home. In the gloom, who can be sure it's really Kieren? Who can be sure what they've seen is real, and not some horrible nightmare? God knows they've have plenty of them this last month or two. He doesn't think of attacking them, he couldn't bear it. He's not like that. He doesn't want to hurt anyone.

But the voice is familiar, and it throws him off — lips parting slightly. His eyes close and his head drops, softly crying to himself. Shit. But he knows he has to answer, this terrible moment can't last. ]

... Konstantin—? [ He keeps his voice even, as much as he can. What does he even say? Kieren searches frantically, desperately. ]

Now's— now's, uh. It's not a good time.

[ Kieren internally balks. Fucking christ — he's covered in blood and brain matter and he acts as if this is some mild inconvenience, like you've just caught someone as they're heading out the door to go to the shops. He swears quietly to himself. ]

I... I don't want any trouble.

a good wholesome time :')

[sputnik]

[ He hears his name, the boy remembers him, and it's so strange to hear someone speaking like a normal person when they're leaning over the bloody remains of something, pieces of it hanging from their mouth. It was strange to see Bigby doing it and Konstantin knows it's strange when it's him. But he's tried so hard, so desperately, to keep a distinction between himself and something brutal — Vasiliy pours the grouse blood and pulpy bits of brain into cups for him and Konstantin drinks it like he's drinking tea, brushes his teeth so thoroughly afterwards, tells himself it's a civilised act even if he can never look at himself in the mirror afterwards.

This is like watching a wild animal, except it speaks in a teenager's soft voice, and it's crying, and says it doesn't want any trouble, and Konstantin's heart breaks right in two with a shaky exhale, brows knit, eyes dark and wounded. ]

It's okay. No trouble.

[ He keeps the one hand held out placatingly and bends his knees a little, crouching just a bit closer to the snowy ground beneath him. The gesture makes him smaller, and it also removes him of an ability to make a quick get-away if... if the boy should turn on him. He doesn't think he will. Maybe it's foolish to assume as much, but he can't be afraid of this shaking young man clearly in agony of what he's doing. Not of him. ]

You need help. [ His other palm stays pressed to the front of his mouth and nose, but not fully blocking his breathing so that he can speak. He takes careful inhales of frigid air, slow and soft, ready to shirk away from the scent of blood. ]

Can I help you?

[darkxwolf17]

[Uzi has no reason to be out here. She doesn't eat, so there's no reason to hunt beyond helping others - which she's starting to believe might be the only way out of this.

Still, she likes her walks. The dark, windswept wilderness sort of reminds her of the dead forests of Copper 9, minus the lack of human skeletons. And the animals. She's not used to living, breathing animals yet.

Or the sounds they make. Her eyes, pinpricks of shifting, magenta light, fall on the hunched figure in the snow, shoveling lumps of meat into his mouth. And, really, it's all she can do to just stand there.]

Jesus.

[burying]

[ The sudden voice makes him jump and he scurries back in the snow from the ruined mess of deer. Eyes wide, mouth and hands bloodied with gore from scooping out brain matter.

Kieren stares, horrified. ]

What the fuck are you—?!

[ ... He has absolutely no ground to stand on with that considering what he's doing. ]