Learning to Walk Again (openish thread)

[brother_alone]

Winter held Joshua's hands while he recovered. It drove away every distraction that would stop him from doing what it took to survive. It saved his life. When he was strong enough to climb out of the ravine he'd been thrown into it lead him to his first tracks in the snow. It gave him the cover he needed to secure his first kill.

Winter could not stay forever.

With it gone and Joshua once more in control of himself, things aren't as easy as they were. He often waits until the hunger gets to be maddening before he lets himself hunt. It's easier that way, keeps him from thinking about what he's doing. About clawed hands rending hide and sinew apart as sure as his fangs drew blood. If he thinks he hesitates. Ends up getting hurt and losing his meal. He's still getting used to all of this. He doesn't like it, but he's surviving.

It's the time spent in between hunts that's the worst. Time when his mind is brutally clear. He scrubs himself as clean as he can get in those moments. Laments over everything that's brought him here. The tiny shack in the woods he once used to call home has become so again. Still nothing more than four walls and a dirt floor but it's his. A place where he can retreat to when stronger hunters are nearby. A tiny territory all his own for him to claim.

It's lonely. It's hard. But it's home.

((Open to Josh's friends if they'd like to catch up with him.))

Comments

""friends""

[nomoreroom]

There was one, and only one reason, why Alastor had kept any tabs on Josh at all. The human was unremarkable in almost every sense, save for one. That spirit latched on to him like a ghostly lamprey had ensured that at the very least, the demon wouldn't allow Josh to just slip away unnoticed. Heaven forbid something come of that.

Couldn't tolerate a challenge to his own power, after all.

It'd definitely seem like the human would be alone for the longest time, but at some point, the... 'peace', if one could call it that, for Josh, would be broken. The hiss and crackle of a radio. The soft pop and hum of an imperfect, ancient frequency, full of background radiation and static.

He'd be heard, long, long before he'd ever be seen.

"Rough winter, huh sport?" The laughter seemed pretty obvious in that tone, clearly amused.

Clearly interested.

[brother_alone]

Navigating his new senses has been a roller coaster of not fun in and of itself these past few weeks. He's emptied out the shack in the Wilds of all the tools and spare parts for the speeder he's no longer got. They sit stacked in boxes outside of the ramshackle structure in no particular order. Maybe he'll take them to the plaza later and drop them off somewhere. He's loathe to get rid of them entirely yet though he has no use for them anymore.

Sentiment.

A reminder of priorities and a life he lead before Winter. If it could be called that.

Any quiet content with the damp afternoon is cut with the hiss and crackle of an old radio. It lingers in the air, growing louder and softer for minutes that stretch on end. Leaves the half wendigo baring his teeth, circling his small territory on constant alert of a predator. An intruder. A meal.

But the voice, when it finally came into tune, is familiar. Joshua's shoulders are still raised. His glare still intent on the innocuous forest stretching out in every direction.

"Fuck off and die you miserable piece of sssshit."

[nomoreroom]

Now that's a new attitude.

The voice, and soon enough, the laughter, came from every corner of that forest, hanging in the leaves, rippling in the creaking boughs, in every bush and hollow.

"Language, son." The scent of old blood and musty incense, the crackling of the ancient radio akin the the pop and fizzle of a growing fire.

"That little friend of yours finally came out to play, I see. Guess you're the backseat driver now, huh?"

[brother_alone]

This is his territory. Pathetically small, and with almost no hunting opportunities to speak of but the shack and immediate wooded area around it is the only thing he's tried to claim as his own. The smell of Other Power here trespassing is almost more than he can stand. The shrieking in his head is growing louder. Louder still.

Until Joshua opens his mouth and Screeches in reply toward the direction of the voice. Shoulders up and posture wide. Making himself as threatening as possible.

Words will have meaning again later right now instinct says to protect what's his.

[nomoreroom]

The screech was only answered with cackling, the source of the noise consolidating, congealing, into a singular point. Forming and fully manifesting, the grinning, scarlet demon couldn't have been less intimidated by this.

This scruffy, starving, miserable insect of a creature, so insignificant that even it's disrespect was laughable, rather than offensive.

All seven foot plus of him was here now, teeth bared in a mocking grin, blood and hellfire eyes alight with sadistic amusement.

"Got a lot of damn gall, don't you? A lot of bravado, for a mangy, half living mutt."

[brother_alone]

Joshua knows that voice. He knows that face, that stance. He's trying to calm down but instinct is too strong right now because the wendigo knows one of its own. They aren't pack hunters and this trespass is something he shouldn't, cannot, allow. Common sense and Joshua's will so small in comparison to what every fiber of his being says he should be doing right now.

He's crouched, slightly elongated limbs jutting out at odd angles while he's ready to pounce. That milky left eye watching with fervor every tic of movement Alastor gives.

There's fear there. The wendigo knows it's the smaller of the two. No matter how old the spirit that merged with Joshua was he's not either of them anymore. Something else. Something new and young and still finding its feet. But he still lunges for Alastor because this tiny territory is his.

[alittlehinky]

Cricket hasn't brought Willie today. He's being careful, or thinks he is. Whatever Josh has become is clearly a predatory creature, and so Cricket's first thought when coming out to look for him is to suit up like someone on a bear hunt. He can't mask his own scent, and he's not bringing a gun, but he's careful not to carry unwrapped food, only a jar of moonshine and a few tins of sardines bought off Kinner's fish stand, in a backpack on his slender shoulders, with some other odds and ends.

He's got the cane today, but no crutches.

If he knew where he was going, he'd be sure to approach from downwind, but he doesn't. Josh may even hear him walking the woods before he gets anywhere close to the shack. Cricket doesn't move like prey or predator, taking slow deliberate steps, and pausing only to peer at familiar flowers in bloom beneath trees. But if he is not intercepted, he will close in on the shack when he sees it, whistling a tune ('Little Brown Jug') so he doesn't pop up and surprise him.

[nomoreroom]

A backseat driver indeed, if Alastor could only hear that internal turmoil right now, he'd be very proud of himself for using such an apt descriptor. But my, what a warped thing he'd become, hadn't he? All twisted and pulled out, like fresh taffy, the demon idly wondering just how much that seemingly cauled over eye could see. It was definitely not behaving like it was useless.

What he could sense, very easily, was that fear. After all, were they not both beasts? An animal could easily smell it in the air.

The Thing That Was Once Josh would find the head of that microphone bedecked cane swung sharply and carelessly at his face, like Babe Ruth at the ninth inning to a baseball.

"Faster, kiddo, gotta be faster than that!"

[fiveofnone]

It's not common for Caspar to be in the Wilds, but with an excitable pokémon to train, he needs the space. He's careful to stick to the trails, mindful of avoiding the territory that the Fallen are claiming as their own.

This particular area of the woods is quite scenic, the deciduous trees all starting to grow leaves while the ground sprouts snowdrops and crocuses. Caspar keeps his ears open for danger, making sure that Princess stays right by his heels, not wanting any surprises.

When he spots the shack through the trees, he doesn't think much of it at first. He was never at Josh's place and assumes it's an abandoned structure. But those boxes of tools and parts look far too organized for him to take that for granted. So he stops and waits, a little on edge, his hand on the poké ball that he keeps for emergencies. He's never needed to call Princess into it before, but he's not taking any chances.

[brother_alone]

The speeder is settled down next to the shack, covered up in the tarp he always used in between his need for the vehicle. Stacked around it are various boxes and toolboxes for the speeder. Emptied out of what looks like a small tool shed. It's hard to imagine anyone living in a place this small, only just large enough for the speeder to have been housed but it must have set with its tail at one end and its nose at the other.

Josh is dripping wet when he emerges from the tree line, still clad in the same (also soaking) outfit he'd been wearing the day he disappeared. There's even more stains and rips on the clothes now, but he's clearly cleaning it as best he can out here. What would have been surprise has been tempered by Cricket's careful deliberate announcement of his presence in the area. Given Josh the time he needs to wrangle his own self control together.

His right hand is brushing droplets of water out of unruly dark curls when he finally approaches close enough to talk with Cricket.

"Not gonna lie. I didn't expect to see you thisss soon." He's too wary yet for it to be immediately obvious if Josh finds that to be a pleasant surprise or not.

[brother_alone]

There's food close by. Romping frolicking something too eager with its own play time to pay attention to the lack of birds or wildlife in this little section of the forest. Joshua's claws sink into the soft bark of the tree he's hanging off of, head tilted toward the sounds. Closer, just a bit closer and he can--

It doesn't matter what Caspar's saying to Princess in the coming moments. Joshua isn't listening to the words. But a voice means there's a human with the food.

Branches snap and the grass rustles as he drops down back to the forest floor, both hands clamped over his head while Joshua struggles to get himself under control. People aren't food. He can't just....is that voice familiar? Josh thinks it really might be.

Familiar and close.

[fiveofnone]

"Princess," Caspar says warningly, when she starts to stray a little, and then he hears the distinct sound of something falling out of a tree. Something big, and far too silent afterwards.

With a flick of his wrist, he opens the poké ball and retrieves Princess in a flash of light. And then he scans his surroundings, eyes narrowed, looking for the source of the sound. He spots a hunched over figure, too close for comfort.

Is that flannel?

"If this is an ambush, you're terrible at it," he taunts casually, hiding his nerves. This isn't the Fallen. This is... he's not sure he wants to know who it is. He trades his poké ball for his PINpoint, finger hovering over the emergency button. "Why don't you do us both a favor and introduce yourself?"

[brother_alone]

Bones would crack--should shatter even. Were Joshua still fully human. There's a reverberating Crack! that the forest swallows up as Joshua is thrown back into the trunk of a tree. The soft sound of his body hitting the ground after is nothing by comparison.

He's shaking his head, a low growl reverberating through his chest while he picks himself back up. The shriek he gives is clipped short. This time Joshua's leaping upward, grabbing onto tree branches and vaulting up ten, twenty feet before he jumps to a nearby tree.

Running away, possibly. Or lining up an attack from above.

[brother_alone]

The flannel is faded and stained by blood, dirt, and grass but its owner has done his best to wash it as best as he can with only the stream to use. Joshua still isn't tall when he stands up straight, perhaps only an inch or two larger than he used to be. His limbs are just a little bit too long now and he's so very thin. Thinner than he ever was even at his worst. The grimy clothing hangs off of him unnaturally.

But his hair is still a mess of dark curls. His eyes still green, though one has turned a rather milky shade.

"I nnngh...I don't. I don't do that." Not to people at any rate. When he pulls his hands away from his face there can be no mistaking him for anyone else. Though it's obvious that something has happened.

"Guessss I shouldn't be surprised people would come looking."

[sweetcandygirl]

Harley is a lot of things. She can be a roller-coaster of highs and lows. A bright smile during a hard day. A strong stubborn streak that never gives up on the people she cares about.

And Josh is one of those people.

So even with dealing with having to relocate her own Nexus apartment, Harley has kept looking for any sign of his body. Any sign of what happened to him. Josh was her first real friend in the Nexus. Their friendship only became stronger after they were partnered together during the Nightmare. Josh has seen her darkness and still accepted her.

And so she is back in the woods, near his tiny shack, looking for any clue. Anything that would bring her any resolution to losing her dearest friend.

[alittlehinky]

"Were you swimmin'?" Cricket looks quizzical, puzzled enough by his appearance to cut right past shyness and fear and into confusion. "D'you need some extra clothes? I think mine'd be too little for you, but I can find you a couple things if you want."

The strangeness and mangled appearance to his face is still chilling, but Cricket's not afraid of the woods, and rarely intimidated by what's in them, and there's dappled sun dancing on the ground at their feet, through the leaves. And this is still Josh. A weird, damaged version of him, perhaps, but still.

"Got a couple things I thought I should tell you," he says. "And I don't want you to go thinkin' you can avoid me forever. And I brought you some things."

He's a little wary, too cautious to turn his back on Josh, but he shrugs off the backpack and sets it on a fallen tree to pull out the contents. There's a blanket, some clean new socks, a little makeshift bathing and shaving kit in a ziploc freezer bag, and then the moonshine and sardines.

[brother_alone]

Harley's search has taken her deep into the Wilds.

She'll have to be careful of the Fallen's territory though it doesn't linger close to the battle site from Winter. Every inch of that site scoured will take her down the cliffs and into the deep ravines now melted out from Winter's end. The water will have washed away the blood and the prints but it won't have washed away all of the evidence. There's filthy bandages stuck in nooks down in a small hollow in the rocks.

Not deep enough to be a cave but providing at least some shelter from the surrounding wilderness.

Inside there's also a skeleton and tattered fragments of clothing that certainly don't belong to Joshua. The clothing is filthy even after the rains. Burial garments. The bones won't all be intact. Many will be split open and there's notch-like markings on so many of them. But no signs of Joshua. Not a body and not...anything else.

Whatever happened to Joshua either took him away or her friend didn't perish from his fall.

But that was weeks ago, now. When she stumbles upon the shack there's signs that it's been used and recently. If only for someone to box up all its contents and stack them outside the place.

[sweetcandygirl]

She is being extremely cautious. Not just because of the Fallen's territory -- but because she is extremely deep in the Wilds, and who knows what is out here.

The things she finds just make Harley a little more determined to find out what happened. And she studies the skeleton carefully, wondering if those markings are from any animals in the area.

With no body to find... she continues her search. And approaches the shack with caution. She is not sure if anyone would be here. But obviously someone is boxing up supplies. So she wanders closer, hoping for more clues.

[fiveofnone]

It's a curious sensation, that sudden surge of hopefulness followed by an immediate nosedive. It leaves Caspar feeling a bit nauseous. It's Josh, even though his instincts are screaming that this is not his friend before him, this is something else.

A predator.

But Cylons don't acknowledge fear. They certainly don't accept the little irrational voice that worries about monsters hiding in the closet or under the bed. That's a human thing. He takes a few breaths, steadying himself. "Josh," he says finally. "Goddammit, Josh, of course people would come looking. We thought you died. What the hell happened?"

The "to you" is left unspoken, but it's there. Truthfully, Caspar looks a little lost. He wants to accept the fact that Josh is back, to call him an asshole for making everyone worry, to poke fun at his flannel shirt and then get him a new one.

But he can't. Not until he has some answers.

[brother_alone]

Josh glances down at his dripping clothes and debates lying to Cricket rather than just coming out and telling him the truth. It's not as though he'd be able to keep it a secret for long. Would anyone really be surprised, looking at him now?

"I mean kind of. But I wassss cleaning up."

He's only got the one set of clothes. They don't quite fit him right anymore but it's far better than going without. Admitting he's nothing but an animal now.

"Tell me what." He's eyeing the things Cricket's brought him and offered but the vague notion that Cricket has something to say seems more pressing at this second.

[brother_alone]

"Because thisssss is a better thing to know about than me being dead? I might as well be."

One hand has to cling much more gently around himself lest he shred his own clothing with the razor sharp claws he has on one hand. The other hand isn't much better but isn't as grotesquely altered. His hands wrap around himself protectively but it's to keep him from twitching. He can still smell where the food was and it's distracting. Not horribly so--he's eaten recently enough.

"I sure as hell ain't going back to the Plaza. Too many people." Too much risk. To himself and others. Even if the AV field protected someone he tried to attack those same people who fought off those aliens would then turn onto him. And shouldn't they?

He's a monster.

"Better for everyone if I keep to myself."

TW: Mentions of Animal Death

[brother_alone]

She'll smell fresh blood all too soon. See the carcass of a deer-like creature hung up to bleed out from the lower branches of a nearby tree. There's gouge marks all down its flank and it's head's nearly been severed by whatever slashed at it to bleed it out.

It's plain to see the animal hasn't been shot either with a gun or an arrow. It looks almost like it was mauled before being treated like any other huntsman's first buck of the season. Josh was never huge on the sport. Getting up at ass o clock to go freeze his nutsack off in a perch waiting for deer to show up just so he could get roped into cleaning the body and look forward to gamey ass venison for months to come. But his father loved it.

And now?

Well. It's a much more palatable menu than what his instincts crave the most.

Joshua is on his way back to the shed, dripping wet from his bath in the stream. He freezes when he smells someone close by but it's probably too late to stop him being seen. And seen for what he's become.

TW continues.

[sweetcandygirl]

Harley is very familiar with the smell of fresh blood. She is no stranger to a site like this either. And approaches the deer-like creature, to study the gouge marks. It might be good to know how the creature was attacked, in case the predator who attacked it comes back.

Seeing how it was mauled reminds her of her precious hyenas... and how they hunted for prey. But the way it is hung like a huntsman's prize tells her that the predator that did this is a lot more intelligent.

There is a prickling at the base of her neck, with her instincts telling her that someone is approaching. Harley knows that she is no longer alone. And she turns, with one hand on her ice dagger.

[alittlehinky]

"You need a change of clothes and a towel," Cricket says. And it's probable that he's missing what Josh means, unable to quite conceive of him covered with enough blood to have to jump into the water in his clothes in order to clean up. Give him time, maybe.

Maybe.

"Well," he says softly. "I didn't get around to tellin' you at the memorial, but there was a man askin' about you. Han Solo. I told him you were missin', and I reckon I implied you was probably dead, because that's what I thought at the time. But I remembered you talkin' about him, and I figured I should let you know he was lookin' for you."

"And the other thing is...the Fallen? They're still out here in the Wilds somewhere, and it's soundin' to me like you need to stay as far from them as you can."

[fiveofnone]

"Oh, because that's a solid plan. Not like anyone might accidentally come across you like I just did, right?"

It's easier to focus on his own annoyance than on the peculiar way Josh is curled up around himself, or the length of those claws. It reminds him too much of those zombies on Azeroth, but they were mindless. Undead only in the most basic of definitions. Josh can't be so far gone as all that.

If he is... then this really is worse than being dead. And he's not willing to believe that. Not yet.

"And what is this, exactly? Did someone do this to you?"