Tobias (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notachickenhawk) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
songerein2024-03-06 02:51 pm
notachickenhawk) wrote in songerein2024-03-06 02:51 pm
Entry tags:
The Informant | Closed
Who: Tobias and Alastor
Which: Closed Log
Where: The forest/Alastor's place
What: Tobias has questions, and ironically the radio demon seems likely to keep his mouth shut.
Warnings: Probably talk of PTSD and war in here. Also hunting, and cannibalism is likely to show up.
Tobias has questions. A lot of questions, actually. He needs information about this place, and the weird demon (alien?) seemed willing enough to provide it. So why not try him? ... A bunch of reasons, up to and including "demons aren't real", "if they are real you shouldn't make a deal with them", and "if you're going to give a present to a demon, what do you even bring?". But eventually Tobias settles on a course of action. He waits until he can see Alastor go off to do... something.
And then he goes off to execute his plan.
He morphs in the woods to Hork-Bajir, setting off for where he'd seen deer. It doesn't take long for him to take one down, considering that he jumps on it from the tops of the trees and brings down a wrist blade into its neck. The head severs from the neck cleanly, and the rest of the herd scatters.
Tobias drags it back to Alastor's place, sets it nearby, and demorphs. There's no cameras here (he's pretty sure) so he's safe. ... He thinks. But either way he's done it, and he perches on a tree nearby to wait for Alastor to come back. ... It's a good thing he already ate, since that deer would make him very hungry.
Which: Closed Log
Where: The forest/Alastor's place
What: Tobias has questions, and ironically the radio demon seems likely to keep his mouth shut.
Warnings: Probably talk of PTSD and war in here. Also hunting, and cannibalism is likely to show up.
Tobias has questions. A lot of questions, actually. He needs information about this place, and the weird demon (alien?) seemed willing enough to provide it. So why not try him? ... A bunch of reasons, up to and including "demons aren't real", "if they are real you shouldn't make a deal with them", and "if you're going to give a present to a demon, what do you even bring?". But eventually Tobias settles on a course of action. He waits until he can see Alastor go off to do... something.
And then he goes off to execute his plan.
He morphs in the woods to Hork-Bajir, setting off for where he'd seen deer. It doesn't take long for him to take one down, considering that he jumps on it from the tops of the trees and brings down a wrist blade into its neck. The head severs from the neck cleanly, and the rest of the herd scatters.
Tobias drags it back to Alastor's place, sets it nearby, and demorphs. There's no cameras here (he's pretty sure) so he's safe. ... He thinks. But either way he's done it, and he perches on a tree nearby to wait for Alastor to come back. ... It's a good thing he already ate, since that deer would make him very hungry.
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As for the way he got the deer to Alastor's door...
<I could show you, but it's gross.>
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"After nearly a century in Hell, my constitution is capable of handling quite a lot of unpleasantness. Really, you'd have to hold an orgy or a blood sacrifice on my living room rug to disgust me. Particularly since I'd have to burn the rug to rid myself of the reminders, and I'm quite fond of this rug."
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<Gotcha. Here goes.>
[He starts to morph, body expanding and changing as he does. It really doesn't take all that much time but it's gross to watch - at least from Tobias' point of view - as feathers pull into his body and his legs thicken and grow longer. Blades pop out of his arms and legs and... everywhere.]
[It takes under a minute, but what was once a hawk is now something completely different.]
<You'd never guess it, but they're actually a pacifist species when they're on their own.>
Gmail, where the hell did you send this tag?!
[Once the transformation was complete, Alastor gives an intrigued "hmm". He stands up and walks over, examining the creature. Taller than a human. Had Alastor been a little shorter than his own seven feet, the creature would've been especially intimidating. Despite his cervine features, he eyeballs the creature with the cool efficiency of a hunter gauging potential prey.]
They'd almost have to be. The positions of some of these blades are very inefficient for a predatory species without significant intelligence guiding those blades. However, they'd be extremely useful in tearing through thick vegetation along with making it difficult for a predator to make an easy kill.
[He runs a claw along one of the blades on the creature's neck.]
For example, the long neck should be a vulnerable spot. A predator would normally just need to lock its jaws around the neck until it suffocated, but blades here create a significant risk to the predator attempting that.
To the Shadow Realm, clearly
<Right, exactly. I've heard the stories of their species... they're almost all either dead or infected. The ones that are free are a very small number, and they're not even on their native planet anymore.>
[He eyes Alastor carefully - he looks different now that he's not hyperfixated on the details.]
<The enemy's taken a lot from a lot of people.>
Just gonna swap this back to the original format LOL
"At least when one first trades their soul to someone, it's by their own poor choices. I take it this poor species is enslaved cradle-to-grave regardless of their own decisions."
He shook his head.
"No no no no, I certainly wouldn't want to see that here!"
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Sell their soul? He wasn't sure that he had one, but the idea of selling it - well. He could only think of a few people he'd risk eternal torture for.
<... They named their first child after me, too. The first free Hork-Bajir in generations.>
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"Congratulations to you and them," Alastor said.
He stopped his inspection of what he now knew as "Hork-Bajir". He retook his seat.
"I admit I'm curious how this technology that lets you do this works, but I don't imagine I'd be able to properly understand it. Still, there is a question I might be able to understand the answer to: I can see why you'd use this form to move the deer, but why remain in your hawk form when entering my home? I don't imagine it's very comfortable for a bird to be anywhere he can't see the sky. So either you're that paranoid about me seeing your true face or there's more to you than even this."
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Now, at least. His human form just feels... wrong, nowadays.
<I spend most of my days hunting and watching people. I'm the one who scouts out places before missions. It's not like I go to school or anything.>
Not anymore. And it's not like he learned much there anyway.
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He started ticking things off on his fingers.
"You can read, can speak telepathically, and somehow managed to obtain access to technology allowing for metamorphizing into other creatures. The first is theoretically possible -- I've reported on quite a few tales of hyperintelligent birds during my time so perhaps you were originally someone's pet that they taught to read -- but telepathy? Quite an odd development but very fortunate for a hyperintelligent hawk. And to top that off, you just so happen to come upon something that granted you transmogriphication abilities?"
He raised a brow.
"One item is chance. Two is coincidence. Three is...well, traditionally the phrase is 'enemy action', but I don't think that applies in this case. Regardless, it's highly suspect. Again, I'm not asking for your tragic tale, but I'd be satisfied in having confirmation that I'm right. Or at the very least confirmation that should any more people like you show up, they're not likely to have any ill will towards Reverein if this secret war you've been plucked out of has made you too paranoid to do so."
He narrowed his eyes over his pleasant smile.
"I quite like this town, you understand. After ninety years of eternal torment, this idyllic little place is as close to Heaven as I'll ever get. If nothing else about me, you can trust that I've no ill will towards the people here and do what I can to protect them."
Tobias had seen him hunting the redcaps after all.
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At least it's a healthy suspicion to him.
WHERE DID THIS TAG GO?! DAMMIT
Alastor's smile was bright, chipper.
It happens!
He's honestly glad this place is pretty peaceful. Quite honestly the amount of stress they've been under for literal years has frayed him at the edges. He's not how he used to be, and while he's glad he's not... paranoia eats at you.
But he lets go of the morph, quickly returning to his hawk form. At least Alastor doesn't seem grossed out.
<You're taking all of this pretty well, considering. Demon or no.>
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He glanced at his claws.
"For example, you can't walk five feet down a sidewalk without having to step over some sort of bodily fluid at least once."
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He's just glad that morphing cures wounds - not that he's going to let that information slip. It's too useful.
He goes quiet for a few long moments before...
<... Can I ask you a... personal question? And even if you say yes, you don't have to answer if you don't want to.>
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He rested his chin in his hand, motioning languidly with his free hand.
"I certainly can't stop you, but I won't guarantee an answer."
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There's no way to really ask this other than being straightforward.
<... Have you ever been tortured? And if you have... how do you deal with it... after?>
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"Multiple times," Alastor said. "My last ninety years could be considered that -- it isn't called 'Eternal Torment' for nothing -- but my living existence had some dark moments I'd rather not go into detail about. And that isn't even getting into what the old frayed wires come up with when my mind decides to drift."
He hesitated on answering the question.
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She knows enough to be worried. She knows Tobias has issues with it, that he came out of it... somehow broken. She knows that it left him with complicated feelings about his captor.
But he's never told her exactly what he saw, how badly it rattled him. How much even his old memories could still affect him. That life was before they met. The boy who lived it is gone. In his place is a predator, someone who has to kill to survive.
... But he doesn't know how to deal with it. He has no one to ask - no one he can trust to answer without worrying about him. Maybe a demon won't care, but... maybe he at least knows something that can help.
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However, he wasn't without feeling. He'd taken children under his proverbial wing here in Reverein. He'd made friends with adults of similar mindset even if others found his methodology to be gruesome at times.
Still, it never failed to disgust him just how many worlds would treat their children so shoddily. Child soldiers seemed to be disturbingly popular in the multiverse.
"I'm afraid I can't give you an answer. Not because I don't want to but because I have no solid answer." He straightened up and rested his hands in his lap. "I deal with it by not dealing with it."
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He was hoping for an answer - he's not sure what to do without one. He looks away, trying to not stare the demon down and also to try to gather his thoughts.
<I guess it wouldn't make sense to ask you if you know who could answer, because you probably would have asked them. It's just... if people can stumble into nightmares here, I don't want her to have to run into mine.>
He just wants her to be safe, to be as okay as possible. He knows she's not okay, but there's differing levels of okay...
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"But I can offer you this suggestion in trying to avoid having nightmares someone might stumble into: Wear yourself out before you sleep. If your body and brain are exhausted enough, your mind won't have the energy to torment you during your rest. No dreams means no dreamwalkers stumbling in. However, I can't guarantee your friend won't notice."
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<Wearing myself out I can do. It's not hard when I can't really go to the store to get dinner and have to catch my own. ... But she deserves better than my dreams.>
He's never had good dreams. They've only gotten worse as things have gone on, and it feels like he's trapped in them sometimes. No, Rachel should have something nicer than that. He closes his eyes for a few moments before opening them again. <I... I just want her to be happy.>
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"Wearing yourself out isn't a guarantee. Sometimes your mind might recharge just enough energy to torment you. All it does is reduce the chance.
"But it might be possible to brew something to deepen your sleep. Nothing mind-altering, I assure you. Things like valerian root, lavendar, and chamomile. I had a rather mild blend to help myself sleep periodically when I was alive. Working the night shift for years did not help with insomnia when I moved to day shift."
That and his particularly bloody hobby kept him up some nights.
"I'd need to ensure they're not poisonous to avians. Plus I could test out a stronger brew on myself to make sure there aren't any adverse reactions. I've had enough of my dreams broadcast to everyone that they typically recognize when it's a dream of mine and leave right away. Nobody wants to see Hell."
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He wants a cheeseburger every once in a while. Sue him.
<Just don't get yourself hurt on my account.>
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