[open] the cat came back

[limbical]

WHO: Daan (limbical) & YOU!
WHAT: Augustcatch-all. Event, non-event prompts, you know.
WHERE: The clinic for non-event prompts, the mall for event prompts.
WHEN: August
WARNINGS: Typical warnings for Fear & Hunger content, which you can find in Daan's permissions here. I'll ensure to label CW in subject headers in case the subjects come up, but if you need to opt out please hit up my permission's post!

Comments

AUGUST EVENT PROMPTS

[limbical]

OH MY GOD SHOES | open

[limbical]

[Look, Daan knows that he should probably be properly exploring the mall, but he has definitely stopped by one of the shoe stores, squinting his eye to examine a leather loafer discerningly. His own pair of shoes have been thoroughly tarnished by Prehevil, and he wasn't interested in whatever rubbery shit was in the convenience and grocery stores, so this is promising.

He tries it on, and hums pleasantly.] All right, not bad. But... ugh, fine, I'll think about coming back for it or whatever.

[Because he realizes that he should be focusing on proper exploration right now. Daan sniffs irritably before he puts the shoes back.]

Who knows. Maybe if I wore them it'd... I don't know, give me a depressing vision or some shit. A vision about my feet being cut off? Some creative thing.

[But he definitely looks like he wants to take the shoes with him.]

[faststance]

Daan, you're here, too?

[ It is what he calls out first as he's walking by the shoe store. He has with him a medium plastic bag that looks weighed down with various items inside. His knuckles are bruised, cut, and haphazardly bandaged with toilet paper - not dirty this time around, ay! ]

Are you okay?

[ Marcoh steps in toward the store. It looks like he has some things on his mind. ]

[limbical]

Ah, Marcoh?

[There's a pleasantly surprised lilt to his voice as he turns around to face the larger man, brow raised. The question earns a tilt of his head before he shrugs and slides his hands into his pockets.]

Mm, no worse than typical. Looks like you've got a collection there?

[And, evidently, Marcoh looks like he might want to talk. Honestly, fine by Daan; he wasn't doing much more than yearning after footwear, after all.]

[faststance]

Mm.

[ He gives a sharp nod. When the lights went out, he worried about what might come crawling out of the darkness. So far it seems like it is just dark. But why can't they get out? Questions to voice aloud - yes, but first: ]

I found some stuff for you.

[ Marcoh steps closer to hold out the bag to him. ] The hobby shop had some uh, knives that you could use. Some needles and thread, too. [ He lets out a sigh. ] These will work, right?

FURRY CONVENTION MEET UP | open

[limbical]

[There were a lot of things to consider a blessing to be here rather than anywhere else in his own world, to be perfectly honest. Sure, it isn't perfect, and Daan does want to leave, but there are benefits to the situation, too. There was nothing and no one waiting for him back in the von Dutch estate, or anywhere. He's also fucking glad to have Prehevil long behind him. Most of all? The most comforting thing was that he hasn't heard that damned cat in over a month. Not the click of his fine, well loved boots; not his sickeningly sweet purrs and false promises that would make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Wherever Daan is, Pocketcat cannot reach, and what a relief that is.

But it's... different suddenly. In the middle of one of the clothing department stores with linoleum flooring, he hears those boots calmly clicking as he approaches. The voice is many things: charismatic, charming, drawling with promises. Daan has always hated it.

Oh Daan. Daniël. Danny, old sport, it's been too long.

His jaw clenches and Daan holds still, frozen where he stands. Seeing the wicked creature in Prehevil was startling but also not entirely shocking, but after blessedly being left alone for weeks on end he almost felt safe for a time. What a joke, he was a fool, he was always a fool.

Pocketcat comes closer, one hand in his pocket of course, the other reaching out to slowly grip Daan's shoulder. Surprised? Well, that makes both of us. Seeing you again makes me so nostalgic. That was hell of a time in the festival, wasn't it? Tell me, did you find what you were looking for?

Daan's lips quiver, and he flinches.] The fuck do you think?

[So moody, my old friend. Though maybe it's because... you know you only have more questions now. About dear old daddy-in-law, about Elise. You know, I always did wonder: did she really love you? But then, there is a way to know. My pockets are deep, and I'm sure an answer surely must be in one of them. Won't you finally consider my offer?]

hands u a furry

[shtola]

( the feeling that she's been laying eyes on things she ought not to is one that she has yet to shake. it is as if no matter where she turns to, something more animal and base claws gashes into her brainstem that pleads and begs her to look away. but to close her eyes is to blind herself, and she'd rather not fumble in the dark.

then there's the whispers. it reminds her of cautionary tales of otherworldly charlatans, sirens and voidsent that seek to lure and taunt and toy. though it's something of a crueler game when confined in a space like this; there's naught else to do but listen.

the figure by the newly acquainted doctor is unsettling, to say the least. the posture in both tells her she needs to excise him from here. carefully so. )

Daan?

n-nya

[limbical]

[Daan somehow manages to freeze more into place, his eye trailing to look in Y'shtola's direction. But then, Pocketcat turns his gaze to look at the arrival, and a jolly chuckle escapes his open, gaping mouth.

Oh? Oh ho! What a lovely young lady. A friend of yours? Such keen taste, Daan. The ears, the tail -- why, I'm plum tickled!]

Y'shtola. You need to leave.

[The doctor's voice is strained. Not angry, but a little desperate.

He wouldn't forgive himself if Pocketcat decided to drag her into this whole damned thing.]

[shtola]

( the change in posture does not escape her, her presence is a clear source of added discomfort. the desperation that pulls at him could also be read a few different ways, as far as she's concerned. he either wishes to not be seen in his current predicament, or he seems to think that her prolonged stay will endanger either or both of them. sadly for him, she's not of the kind to run until she's certain which.

the tall man, vaguely feline, is spared a glance before she trains her gaze firmly at the doctor. )

Surely if were so easy, you could come with me.

( another one of her little tests. surely any form of answer will provide her some clarity. )

[blackwaterchild]

You, uh. You good?

[Miu drawls, sarcastic, but there's still a hint of concern there as her own shoes click on the tile as she approaches. Her glaze flits to the other figure, squinting a little in the dark, unable to really see it. But she recognizes Daan's voice, anyhow, and her hands rest tight on her hips.]

Think you're needed over in aisle three, if your... Friend doesn't mind waiting.

[limbical]

[The creature lets out an amused chuckle, the sound smooth and delighted. Dear me, Pocketcat says, his hand in his pocket shifting. These kinds of situations really force you to be a real social butterfly. A real go-getter. Please, don't let me keep you. After all... I'm just around the bend, as always, old boy.

It isn't a comfort. It only weighs on him cruelly to know that Daan has never escaped him. But it's his fault for finding comfort in the silence.]

...Of course, Miu. Let's go.

[blackwaterchild]

[Miu loops her arm around Daan's, back ramrod straight and her head tilted up in a look of arrogant possessiveness. Just try it she seems to be daring, eyes narrowing at the figure before she turns her head sharply with a little 'hmph!' as she marches Daan away.]

What a weirdo.

[pocketcat, or Daan?? Honestly, both.]

more furries for the furry horde

[nyanxiety]

Damn cat, I'll split you in two! MREOWR!!

[Pocketcat, creepy affront to cat men everywhere, gets a flying kick to the back of the head.]

[Daan might not have seen Nansen's face yet, but maybe he'll recognize his unique way of speaking as he lands from flinging himself over the escalator down from the department store's upper level, a blur of blond and fury spitting at the weird purple fucker that's attacking him.]

[No ears or tail on this guy (although he's certainly got two conspicuous curls of hair atop his head), just a flashy half-buttoned shirt and a length of aluminum piping in his hand. He turns gold, slit eyes onto Daan, whatever state he's in at this point.]

Shyaaa.... I don't really know what the hell's going on, but I guess you've got a curse, too. [Understatement,] Let's split while we can, nyeah?

[limbical]

[It seems that both Daan and Pocketcat are completely surprised by this totally not-a-catboy; Pocketcat's grip releases on Daan, and the doctor himself is jolted alert, eye wide to stare at his savior.

Pocketcat's feline purring increases. Is that anyway to treat a gentleman?

Finally, Daan seems to get his mind together, and he runs toward Nansen to grab his wrist and yank him along.]

Idiot! [He hisses the word out, but less out of anger and more out of desperate concern.] Yes, yes, let's fucking go already!

[nyanxiety]

A gentleman my tang, NYA!

[Nansen hisses that under his breath as he runs, grabbed along by Daan but showing himself easily able to keep up with nimble, agile movements. He might even outpace the man after a little while.]

[Some of the department store's gates were down and some were up, leading to a maze-like situation; Nansen was pretty sure he'd gotten in through one of the upper floors, so he starts hurrying back up an escalator in the other side of the store.]

Nya, hey doc.... Just what is that thing?? That's not a normal cat! [Like he can talk.]

[gradenine]

[ roland chances upon daan completely by random, but it's a good thing he did. daan right now resembles his own state back at the bank vaults, so he may as well return the favor by approaching the doctor, his own footsteps inaudible until he himself speaks up. ]

Daan. Snap out of it.

[ he sounds serious this time, not unlike his own emotional, easygoing self that he usually shows to everyone. ]

Unless you wanna hear what this Distortion has to say, we gotta go. [ now. ]

[limbical]

[Pocketcat's golden gaze turns toward Roland. Though he speaks, the mouth is ever unmoving, remaining in that perpetual smile. Look at this sharply dressed chap! he says, dripping with utter sincerity and fascination. What interesting company you keep these days, Daan. It's like a revolving door, though, isn't it?

Idly, it occurs to Daan that he doesn't think he's really heard Roland say his name before. Well, the name that Daan usually opts to go by, anyway. It's usually just "doc" this and that, which is fine; plenty of people do.

But that's actually enough for him to ground himself. Just a fraction to actually acknowledge he's here.]

...The hell is a Distortion...?

[Clearly, the man doesn't know just how deep and how far back our relationship goes, Pocketcat muses, arching his back in a way that should be impossible. His clothes seem to stretch with him, parts of him too long and unsettling. But I would never dream of forcing you, my good man. The offer ever stays open, and I'd be a poor merchant to make demands of you! Nay, an even poorer friend.

Worry not, I will find you again. I always do.]

[gradenine]

[ hm... it could be an abnormality. roland can't really tell from here right now. the catted man speaks, even compliments on his snappy fit, and roland can only tilt his head. should he even say thanks?

hmm. probably not. if daan ever gives the word, roland would gladly step in and decapitate this thing's head in one fell swoop. but instead, daan is watching the thing in trepidation. roland doesn't blame him. most people who are forced to confront their past selves often break down, some sooner than others. ]

...No, wait.

[ and yet, roland is curious. sorry, daan. turns out he's going to be a tad unhelpful after all. ]

It mentioned your wife, didn't it? Don't you wanna know?

MEOW WOW | open

[limbical]

[It's worse now.

How long has it been in these wretched halls? Days, sure, but Daan hasn't bothered to keep track. He hasn't slept, he's been running, his heart beating like mad in his chest. If he's caught, he knows that's it, something will happen--

Suddenly, there is a vision. Something that not just Daan experiences, but you as well.

Daan, clutching his head, evidently muttering to himself:] W-what are you saying? ...This... this is the only way to get answers?

...F-fine.

I accept your proposal.

[A rubber cat mask settles over Daan's head, and abruptly he changes. Bones creaking as his limbs and body extend far more than typical human proportions, yellow eyes of the mask glowing. A deep purring in his chest.

He is now Pocketcat. No one else. His head turns, as if to face you in this vision.]

Is that any way to treat a gentleman? Oh, behave.

[In the end, Pocketcat or Daan or whatever he's become falls in the fight. Maybe permanently, maybe not, but regardless the body now lies on the ground, bloodied like any other.

And the vision ends.

Back in the present, Daan is clutching his head, sweat practically dripping down his face. The way he's breathing definitely suggests he's on edge, close to a panic. He starts to shake his head back and forth desperately, but he's otherwise quiet.

And in the distance, there's that sing-song voice calling out:

Daan, let's just have a chat, shall we?]

[immortalpoet]

[Distortion.]

[It must be.]

[What a perfect explanation for what's just happened. He's seen it before. He's seen men become monsters. What's surprising is seeing it happen here, in this city, but it seems like the mind of men can't escape the corruption of such a thing anywhere.]

[But even as Vergilius tenses, ready to fight, the vision dissipates, and Daan is left. The Red Gaze blinks, glancing between the doctor and the direction of the voice before approaching.]

Can you move?

[There's no need to stick around.]

[limbical]

What?

[For a moment, he doesn't even realize Vergilius is there. He looks up hesitantly, feeling slick in his own sweat, his body buzzing. Slowly he realizes he was asked something-- right, right.]

Yes.

But should I? Should I even bother at this point?

[Wait. Fuck. No, he shouldn't be complaining. Daan grinds his teeth and forces himself to his feet, shuddering at he hears Pocketcat, too close somewhere too close.

Oh, my old friend, you've been down this path before. Let me hold you. I will cherish you the way nobody ever has.]

You should leave before he becomes your problem, too.

[coolerjunpei]

[So.

It's not every day that one gets a vision of a guy turning into a giant cat... guy. Cat gentleman. Evil furry. Junpei can't exactly well-I've-seen-weirder his way around this one, because he sure hasn't! This really tops the weird scale, at least until the next wild thing pops out of the dark.

But that's definitely Daan having a meltdown, and while Junpei is... uncertain... after a beat, he decides it's probably better to at least take the guy to a food court table or something so he can calm down. He shuffles closer, slowly reaching out a hand to lightly tap Daan on the shoulder.]

Hey. Let's get out of here.

[limbical]

[There's a jerk from Daan at the tap and he suddenly backs away from Junpei. Something more than just being startled. He's afraid.

But not necessarily of Junpei himself. For a moment, Daan processes what he'd just experienced, and he rubs his eye.]

Yeah.

[Slowly, he gets to his feet, even if he feels too heavy and exhausted.]

Door still locked?

AUGUST NON-EVENT PROMPTS

[limbical]

HARLEY QUINN | closed

[limbical]

[The name Harley Quinn is still an amusing and absurd one to him, but it's not like Daan can exactly judge anyone based off of their name either. Still, it probably would have led to some realy annoying encounters with people comparing you to a clown, something that he's not exactly a big fan of to begin with. That being said, he is curious about this bomb implant, and is genuinely curious if he can work with Shinobu and Shoko to see it removed. Suicide bombers are a thing, but it's usually not something that complex; then again, Daan's witnessed enough strange shit by now that he's just going to assume anything is possible, even if it's not something he really thought of before.

When she does arrive, Daan opens the dor and politely holds it open.]

Ms. Quinn.

[Yeah something about her seems a little unhinged, but it can't be any worse than people he's dealt with before. Surely.]