Ocean Arthropods @barnacles-and-chitons - Tumblr Blog

Oh? Hello there?

Hello there?

Are you quite alright?

Quite alright? Oh, yes, I am alright. Hello

You... do not look the sort. Those creatures — I cannot imagine they are comfortable.

They're... it's more uncomfortable without them. Do they make you uncomfortable?

Are you certain? They - Those cannot be good for you. Let me have a see.

My discomfort is unimportant, but I cannot fathom those being anything less than excruciating.

They aren't, but... you want to look? Are you sure you don't find them... objectionable? Aren't you uncomfortable?

[Clive takes a step forward, getting a closer look at how the barnacles are attacked to Andrew's skin. There's a temptation to just... pop them off.]

Are you not uncomfortable? Is there nothing I can do for you?

[He shifts to take a look at the 'horn' on the side of the other's head. He pokes it gently.]

I - I am a doctor. Please do let me assist you.

-A laugh bubbles up from it when the man pokes at their 'horn'-

I do not need assistance, doctor, I am not sick

-It certainly smells sick, this is especially obvious as he stands so close-

[Some part of his mind whispers a reminder than many of the sick may not recognize their own illness. It is perhaps made from pity, but it feels... harsh.]

You may not believe so, however if you were to come with me—

Come with you where? What will you do, doctor?

-It steps back; it will not risk harm to them. Better to assess the situation before following this odd man off to wherever-

I will -- I will assure they are healthy, of course.

[A shaky smile, but a tone just steady enough to hopefully be convincing. If someone is able to survive this much... there is much to be learned from it. Is curiosity truly so bad?

What does he know of sea life? Admittedly little besides what he read in some encyclopedia thirty-some years ago. Fake it till you make it.]

You will come to no harm.

-Maybe it doesn't trust this man, he is a human doctor after all, and they are not one of those, but there's enough of a chance this could lead to a meal. So it sighs, and nods-

Hmm... fine, if you really want.

[Clive smiles.]

You will not regret this.

[Oh, he's not had a look at any medical curiosities in some time. He's perhaps a little too excited for the opportunity... and to help someone. that too.]

-It hopes it won't regret this. This man, who it realizes it has not asked the name of, is far to... happy-

Good.

-It looks expectantly, waiting for him to show the way to... wherever. Hopefully somewhere quiet-

[He's uncomfortable with his own excitement for this, but.. well, curiosity prods at the back of his head in a way that can't be ignored.]

Come.

[He offers a smile before beginning to lead the way. Perhaps he ought to ask more questions, build a better profile.]

We never properly introduced ourselves. Dr. Pembroke, and you are..?

-It follows beside, and just a little behind, the man-

Dr. Pembroke...

-It doesn't respond with its own name, mostly because it isn't sure of what that might be. After a moment it decides on a pseudonym. A name so common it won't be questioned-

I am Micheal.

[Chances are, he wouldn't have questioned any name. A name doesn't reflect much on the person, after all, it's not like they can choose it.]

Pleasure to meet you, Michael.

[A pause, then he continues.] Where are you from? [The accent is enough to set him off. Perhaps he should try and contact family.]

"That way"

-Thinking the man had meant where it lives; it points vaguely off towards where he walked from-

"....what kind of doctor are you?"

#andy rambles 🌊

Oh? Hello there?

Hello there?

Are you quite alright?

Quite alright? Oh, yes, I am alright. Hello

You... do not look the sort. Those creatures — I cannot imagine they are comfortable.

They're... it's more uncomfortable without them. Do they make you uncomfortable?

Are you certain? They - Those cannot be good for you. Let me have a see.

My discomfort is unimportant, but I cannot fathom those being anything less than excruciating.

They aren't, but... you want to look? Are you sure you don't find them... objectionable? Aren't you uncomfortable?

[Clive takes a step forward, getting a closer look at how the barnacles are attacked to Andrew's skin. There's a temptation to just... pop them off.]

Are you not uncomfortable? Is there nothing I can do for you?

[He shifts to take a look at the 'horn' on the side of the other's head. He pokes it gently.]

I - I am a doctor. Please do let me assist you.

-A laugh bubbles up from it when the man pokes at their 'horn'-

I do not need assistance, doctor, I am not sick

-It certainly smells sick, this is especially obvious as he stands so close-

[Some part of his mind whispers a reminder than many of the sick may not recognize their own illness. It is perhaps made from pity, but it feels... harsh.]

You may not believe so, however if you were to come with me—

Come with you where? What will you do, doctor?

-It steps back; it will not risk harm to them. Better to assess the situation before following this odd man off to wherever-

I will -- I will assure they are healthy, of course.

[A shaky smile, but a tone just steady enough to hopefully be convincing. If someone is able to survive this much... there is much to be learned from it. Is curiosity truly so bad?

What does he know of sea life? Admittedly little besides what he read in some encyclopedia thirty-some years ago. Fake it till you make it.]

You will come to no harm.

-Maybe it doesn't trust this man, he is a human doctor after all, and they are not one of those, but there's enough of a chance this could lead to a meal. So it sighs, and nods-

Hmm... fine, if you really want.

[Clive smiles.]

You will not regret this.

[Oh, he's not had a look at any medical curiosities in some time. He's perhaps a little too excited for the opportunity... and to help someone. that too.]

-It hopes it won't regret this. This man, who it realizes it has not asked the name of, is far to... happy-

Good.

-It looks expectantly, waiting for him to show the way to... wherever. Hopefully somewhere quiet-

[He's uncomfortable with his own excitement for this, but.. well, curiosity prods at the back of his head in a way that can't be ignored.]

Come.

[He offers a smile before beginning to lead the way. Perhaps he ought to ask more questions, build a better profile.]

We never properly introduced ourselves. Dr. Pembroke, and you are..?

#speaking🌊#ooc- Really wanted to make him say Raphaella Ambrosius Custo. But Micheal's fine ig

-It follows beside, and just a little behind, the man-

Dr. Pembroke...

-It doesn't respond with its own name, mostly because it isn't sure of what that might be. After a moment it decides on a pseudonym. A name so common it won't be questioned-

I am Micheal.

Oh? Hello there?

Hello there?

Are you quite alright?

Quite alright? Oh, yes, I am alright. Hello

You... do not look the sort. Those creatures — I cannot imagine they are comfortable.

They're... it's more uncomfortable without them. Do they make you uncomfortable?

Are you certain? They - Those cannot be good for you. Let me have a see.

My discomfort is unimportant, but I cannot fathom those being anything less than excruciating.

They aren't, but... you want to look? Are you sure you don't find them... objectionable? Aren't you uncomfortable?

[Clive takes a step forward, getting a closer look at how the barnacles are attacked to Andrew's skin. There's a temptation to just... pop them off.]

Are you not uncomfortable? Is there nothing I can do for you?

[He shifts to take a look at the 'horn' on the side of the other's head. He pokes it gently.]

I - I am a doctor. Please do let me assist you.

-A laugh bubbles up from it when the man pokes at their 'horn'-

I do not need assistance, doctor, I am not sick

-It certainly smells sick, this is especially obvious as he stands so close-

[Some part of his mind whispers a reminder than many of the sick may not recognize their own illness. It is perhaps made from pity, but it feels... harsh.]

You may not believe so, however if you were to come with me—

Come with you where? What will you do, doctor?

-It steps back; it will not risk harm to them. Better to assess the situation before following this odd man off to wherever-

I will -- I will assure they are healthy, of course.

[A shaky smile, but a tone just steady enough to hopefully be convincing. If someone is able to survive this much... there is much to be learned from it. Is curiosity truly so bad?

What does he know of sea life? Admittedly little besides what he read in some encyclopedia thirty-some years ago. Fake it till you make it.]

You will come to no harm.

-Maybe it doesn't trust this man, he is a human doctor after all, and they are not one of those, but there's enough of a chance this could lead to a meal. So it sighs, and nods-

Hmm... fine, if you really want.

[Clive smiles.]

You will not regret this.

[Oh, he's not had a look at any medical curiosities in some time. He's perhaps a little too excited for the opportunity... and to help someone. that too.]

-It hopes it won't regret this. This man, who it realizes it has not asked the name of, is far to... happy-

Good.

-It looks expectantly, waiting for him to show the way to... wherever. Hopefully somewhere quiet-

Oh? Hello there?

Hello there?

Are you quite alright?

Quite alright? Oh, yes, I am alright. Hello

You... do not look the sort. Those creatures — I cannot imagine they are comfortable.

They're... it's more uncomfortable without them. Do they make you uncomfortable?

Are you certain? They - Those cannot be good for you. Let me have a see.

My discomfort is unimportant, but I cannot fathom those being anything less than excruciating.

They aren't, but... you want to look? Are you sure you don't find them... objectionable? Aren't you uncomfortable?

[Clive takes a step forward, getting a closer look at how the barnacles are attacked to Andrew's skin. There's a temptation to just... pop them off.]

Are you not uncomfortable? Is there nothing I can do for you?

[He shifts to take a look at the 'horn' on the side of the other's head. He pokes it gently.]

I - I am a doctor. Please do let me assist you.

-A laugh bubbles up from it when the man pokes at their 'horn'-

I do not need assistance, doctor, I am not sick

-It certainly smells sick, this is especially obvious as he stands so close-

[Some part of his mind whispers a reminder than many of the sick may not recognize their own illness. It is perhaps made from pity, but it feels... harsh.]

You may not believe so, however if you were to come with me—

Come with you where? What will you do, doctor?

-It steps back; it will not risk harm to them. Better to assess the situation before following this odd man off to wherever-

I will -- I will assure they are healthy, of course.

[A shaky smile, but a tone just steady enough to hopefully be convincing. If someone is able to survive this much... there is much to be learned from it. Is curiosity truly so bad?

What does he know of sea life? Admittedly little besides what he read in some encyclopedia thirty-some years ago. Fake it till you make it.]

You will come to no harm.

-Maybe it doesn't trust this man, he is a human doctor after all, and they are not one of those, but there's enough of a chance this could lead to a meal. So it sighs, and nods-

Hmm... fine, if you really want.

Oh? Hello there?

Hello there?

Are you quite alright?

Quite alright? Oh, yes, I am alright. Hello

You... do not look the sort. Those creatures — I cannot imagine they are comfortable.

They're... it's more uncomfortable without them. Do they make you uncomfortable?

Are you certain? They - Those cannot be good for you. Let me have a see.

My discomfort is unimportant, but I cannot fathom those being anything less than excruciating.

They aren't, but... you want to look? Are you sure you don't find them... objectionable? Aren't you uncomfortable?

[Clive takes a step forward, getting a closer look at how the barnacles are attacked to Andrew's skin. There's a temptation to just... pop them off.]

Are you not uncomfortable? Is there nothing I can do for you?

[He shifts to take a look at the 'horn' on the side of the other's head. He pokes it gently.]

I - I am a doctor. Please do let me assist you.

-A laugh bubbles up from it when the man pokes at their 'horn'-

I do not need assistance, doctor, I am not sick

-It certainly smells sick, this is especially obvious as he stands so close-

[Some part of his mind whispers a reminder than many of the sick may not recognize their own illness. It is perhaps made from pity, but it feels... harsh.]

You may not believe so, however if you were to come with me—

Come with you where? What will you do, doctor?

-It steps back; it will not risk harm to them. Better to assess the situation before following this odd man off to wherever-

#andy rambles 🌊

Oh? Hello there?

Hello there?

Are you quite alright?

Quite alright? Oh, yes, I am alright. Hello

You... do not look the sort. Those creatures — I cannot imagine they are comfortable.

They're... it's more uncomfortable without them. Do they make you uncomfortable?

Are you certain? They - Those cannot be good for you. Let me have a see.

My discomfort is unimportant, but I cannot fathom those being anything less than excruciating.

They aren't, but... you want to look? Are you sure you don't find them... objectionable? Aren't you uncomfortable?

[Clive takes a step forward, getting a closer look at how the barnacles are attacked to Andrew's skin. There's a temptation to just... pop them off.]

Are you not uncomfortable? Is there nothing I can do for you?

[He shifts to take a look at the 'horn' on the side of the other's head. He pokes it gently.]

I - I am a doctor. Please do let me assist you.

-A laugh bubbles up from it when the man pokes at their 'horn'-

I do not need assistance, doctor, I am not sick

-It certainly smells sick, this is especially obvious as he stands so close-

Oh? Hello there?

Hello there?

Are you quite alright?

Quite alright? Oh, yes, I am alright. Hello

You... do not look the sort. Those creatures — I cannot imagine they are comfortable.

They're... it's more uncomfortable without them. Do they make you uncomfortable?

Are you certain? They - Those cannot be good for you. Let me have a see.

My discomfort is unimportant, but I cannot fathom those being anything less than excruciating.

They aren't, but... you want to look? Are you sure you don't find them... objectionable? Aren't you uncomfortable?

Oh? Hello there?

Hello there?

Are you quite alright?

Quite alright? Oh, yes, I am alright. Hello

You... do not look the sort. Those creatures — I cannot imagine they are comfortable.

They're... it's more uncomfortable without them. Do they make you uncomfortable?

Oh? Hello there?

Hello there?

Are you quite alright?

Quite alright? Oh, yes, I am alright. Hello

Oh? Hello there?

Hello there?

It has climbed out of the water, off of the beach, away from the docks and from the safety of the familiar. Something is speaking. And like a nest of baby birds to their mother the voice cries.

The streets are cold under its feet, the flatness unnatural and all wrong. Surely it would be used to this, having have lived in a house and walked on flat floors for years, but it does not recall any comfort in these places. These are places that should be sunk by the sea. The voice speaks of how this is true and how all things will sink one day.

It can't see well, shapes and people are blurry, lights from lampposts glow too bright. But it can hear, it hears that voice, and it searches for the thing it wants.

#asks open again. back to tumblr time

Ooc- Andrew updates

A) I'm trying to be active again :) B) I'm giving it memory loss, they will not remember much of anything from before C) they/it pronouns for Andrew, no more he/him

#ooc

ooc: I am here :P

Andrew doesn't like winter, right now they might even say they hated it. The cold, the grey, the inherent Loney feeling that it has for them. Fall is fine; it has nice things, good piles of leaves, harvest foods. Winter is dead and cold.

Currently the thing frustrating them about it is that the ground is frozen and it is hard to break into the dirt. They have a shovel, but that only helps so much.

It wasn't hard to get into Clive's home, he left the door unlocked. It was harder to figure out where he went, but eventually the clues clicked together. The shovel left outside solidified their theory.

So here they are trying to dig him back up, despite how little they've thought this through.

@of-buzzing-melodies

His home is always open to Andrew, no matter if he's present or not. The house is warm yet empty, the little ones being the only inhabitants.

As they dig, the putrid smell serves to confirm they're digging in the right place. Something is festering, and it's been down there for a while. The dirt has become cold, but he does not mind. In his stasis, he doesn't feel a thing, resting and waiting until he is ready to emerge. Hundreds of little things scuttle around in the dirt, most burrowing back into it, down, down, down.

Clive is weak, his family was wiped out, and it was all too familiar a feeling. Gods, he could spend ages in the cold embrace of the earth, wrapped up in an old friend, the weight calming and meditative. This is home now. Things are better down here.

The first glimpse they get is a hint of white fabric.

-Sure they're frustrated but they don't want to hit him with the shovel, so they drop and move to clear some soil with their hands-

Pembroke?

-They claw into the dirt trying to find his face-

Clive, wake up

The half of his face that is visible is mostly consumed by a dark wound which leaks a thick substance. A colony of mushrooms has made their home there.

He's on his side, curled around a malformed ribcage – too many bones, a few of which twist and contort on sharp angles. His hands are woven through gaps, their grip locked, fingers the same horrid shade as the wound on his face... in fact, as much of his arm that can be seen look that way.

Clive stirs, broken out of the peace sleep brings. His eye opens slowly, and instead of the usual joy of seeing his dear friend, his expression looks more like annoyance than anything. He closes his eye, grumbling as he tries to burrow his face back into the dirt.

No, no Clive

-They grab his arm and try to pull him up. He's probably the grossest they've ever seen him, not that they care being what they are-

I know you're awake

Clive's arm keeps at the angle it's bent at, even as he's pulled up. It's a good things he's not exactly the strongest, coming up easily.

"Worm - wood." He grumbles, the name coming out gruff and strained. the hair in his face obscures a glare.

-He tries to sit him up, brush the dirt off a bit, move those bones out of the way... who's bones are these? -

Pembroke. What are you doing

Clive doesn't let go of the bones, held in a firm, unrelenting grip. How dare Andrew touch those? Putting them aside like they're meaningless.

He says nothing. He doesn't even try to speak. If it dug him up, it better have a damn good reason.

-They don't fight to move the bones, just letting go of them-

Come on, Clive, talk to me

-They stand up and try to pull him out of the hole, it's difficult and frustrating-

Get up

Clive sits up, but only so Andrew stops tugging. A couple bones pop as he moves.

"Do not — rush me, boy..."

He doesn't move easily, joints used to so little movement that they have just locked up.

'm sorry

-It takes a breath and tries to be gentle with him, they might be upset but they did not come to hurt him. His insects are agitated, buzzing and moving around despite the cold-

Clive's regular bugs are not able to be seen, instead their presence is replaced by ground-dwelling ones. Dirt falls as he gets to his feet, movements labored, joints creaking and cracking. Despite how easy it would be to lean on Andrew, he doesn't.

"The date...?" He grumbles. It's cold. He can tell that, and the chill of the wind is making him even less enthusiastic to exit.

it's December; the twenty third, no, twenty fourth How long... how long have you been down there?

-He asks the question with a tone that attempts to be unemotional, the key word being attempt. He's a bit miffed, disheartened, other various words that express a general confusion and discontent. He reaches out with now muddied hands, offering support-

Clive doesn't even know. Not long enough, that's for sure. He offers a non-committal shrug, too caught up in himself to really realize their struggle with it. If it were up to him, he would have been down there for months, maybe a year, maybe multiple. Everything is so much easier to deal with when you're unconscious.

Grumpy as he may be, he does accept Andrew's support, using the offered hand to help get him out of the slight pit, then sets off toward the house. His brain is too full of dirt and worms for the significance of the date to dawn on him. He says nothing.

-Andrew never stops looking at him, like he might disappear at any moment. It opens the door for him and closes it behind them, a little forcefully. It isn't too familiar with the layout of Clive's home but it can figure out enough to take him somewhere to sit-

Here?

Clive's house is big, bigger than a single man really needs. The living room be stumbles into is warmly decorated, one could almost imagine a party of friends and family gathered on the couches, around a table, a fire burning brightly in the fireplace... but it's empty.

He stiffly lowers himself onto one of the couches, slowly shifting to lay on it, the bones held to his chest. The ground may have taken away some mobility, but it won't take away his dramatic nature.

He watches Andrew. "Why...?" Last time he was in the ground, no one cared to bring him up, why would this time be any different?

'Why' what?

-It sits on the floor in front of the couch but they never really sit still, they shift and scuttle and watch its friend. It rests its hands close to him, but it dares not touch. One insect however, a small sea roach, crawls from his hand over to Clive-

"You know."

Andrew should be able to read his mind, to know what he's referring to. What else could he possibly be referring to? There is nothing else pertinent.

He watches the roach, letting it crawl on him, letting it cross the seared skin. A few ants come to meet it.

"No, I don't know actually. So tell me"

-the roach greets the ants and gently looks to see what's going on. It can smell the rot and scorch and dirt on Clive-

"You do not know how delightful it is there."

He likes the easy sleep, the hiding, the weight. Something outside of the usual buzz that feels like comfort and familiarity.

"I do not rescue you from the sea; you do not unearth me."

-they stand up, not leaving him but not staying as close-

You're right, you don't rescue me, you have better things to do than that. I don't, Pembroke, I have nothing better to do than dig you back up... I am sorry it's not as nice up here as it is down there

I don't think I need to tell you why, you already know... but maybe you could tell me why you buried yourself alive again

Are the burns not enough of a reason? What else does he need to tell? He doesn't owe Andrew an answer!

... no. That's probably not exactly fair.

"Blasted firestarter." He says, hissing out the words. "I had not done a single thing to provoke the creature.

...They are gone." The tone shifts on a dime from anger to something deeply regretful. His swarm is significantly down in numbers, the air around him lacks it's usual buzz. "I needed rest." or an escape, time to heal physically, to feel his loss, to feel rot in his regret for every loss marring his hands - present and past. How many have been reduced to ash because of his own idiocy?

"Okay, rest, that's fair... but did you have to literally burry yourself alive to heal? I mean, did you tell anyone what happened? Someone could have helped, Heck I could have helped, but you're a stubborn ass and won't let me, So, let me help now! What do you need? And don't say the Buried because I am Not letting you back down there"

-As they speak the winged ones in their cluster buzz more and flit about. Andrew might not be the most eloquent, but his emotions are always clear to see-

"I had no need to say my farewells. It would have delayed me too far for my liking." It had been an impulse, he's hardly denying that fact. Besides, he would not admit to such a loss.

He sits up slowly, the simple movement clearly taking quite a bit of effort. A hand finally manages to break its grip of the ribcage, his fingers still locked in an uncomfortable position for lack of movement.

And to prove he totally isn't a stubborn bastard, he will... continue to deny help. "I can handle myself, Wormwood." He has done it alone, pulled himself from the earth and sat with a silence that makes the ears ring, a guilt still looming. His words have a snap to them, more and more strong as he continues. "I do not have to abide by this! You do not know what it is for them to wreak their devastation, for their monsters to take and take and-!" He trails off in a growl.

"Maybe I don't know Desolation so well, but I certainly know loss... but if me not knowing is why you won't let me help, there's surely someone else who does know, who can help"

-Andrew's expression moves from frustrated to something between dour and sympathetic-

"do you really think being down there is what you need? or are you just festering"

"There is naught to help! I am —" Another frustrated growl and a stiff gesture that, granted proper mobility, would be swift and explosive. He shakes his head.

"Time marches ever forward, and we are its captive. Looking at past impressions in the mud is of no use. We may escape, but we must all fall back in step eventually." It would seem he has been festering.

"What?"

-That last sentence sure sounded deep and meaningful, but then again Andrew can't really gather what that meaning is. Honestly they don't know what to say, or do-

The lack of understanding is predictable, but it seems to strike him oddly.

"Do you consider the passage of time? Far from what has brought us harm, at the same time, far from what we have lost." His face crumples. He doesn't need help, but contemplating philosophy isn't anything close to that at all. Not even close, not at all. Consistency is hard when such a big part of your being is torn from you.

"I... I am far too young for that to mean much to me. I'm not even thirty, you're what; two and a quarter centuries old? I... look, I'm sorry you're sulking or whatever, but if you really don't need help, I suppose you'll just go burry yourself again? You could at least tell me when to expect you'll be back this time"

Clive sits there for a few moments, long enough for the silence to ring in his ears. The look in his eyes in tired, but there's a vulnerability to it. As guarded as he is, simply being in this kind of position feels like baring a lot to Andrew.

He remains silent as he moves to sit beside Andrew, leaning his head against their shoulder. "I am not going back..." He sighs, as mad as some parts of him might be, he can't stay mad at them. "It is far too cold out there for you to be staying out there... You can stay here."

-first, they flinch and tense up, what is he doing? but they know he's safe, so they calm. It's strange to have him seek comfort like this, but being here feels oddly familiar-

"I can handle the cold... but I'll stay a little while longer"

-It's quiet again for a bit, but Andrew doesn't feel the same way Clive did about, he hears no ringing: only song-

"...I should fix that hole in your garden"

"Stay as long as you like..." Clive feels like dead weight. Being so close is... nice, not that he would admit it.

"... No, I will put it to use." He mutters. He can hear the faint, odd song of a swarm, a cluster that is not his. That, too, is refreshing. His own song being so quiet is unnerving, but there's a small comfort in hearing his friend's.