bliss lane
taylor price
Love Begins
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
sheepfilms
almost home
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EXPECTATIONS
★
Not today Justin
titsay
izzy's playlists!
Claire Keane
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@theartofmadeline
if i look back, i am lost
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The Bright Sessions
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@panickedsalesman-archived
“Oh..oh dear..”
An semi literate roleplay and ask blog for Eric Derekson. These are just a couple rules!
Please no NSFW. I might make a separate blog for that, but you would have to ask for it by dm
This version of Eric is FTM trans! Don’t be weird about that
No ableists/TERFS/racist etc. Obviously
I’m ok with shipping with Eric, just send me a message if you’re planning to
Oc interactions are totally cool 😎
It’s luck. Bad luck, but it’s still luck. After his mothers death, Derek had wanted to sell the farm she’d inherited from her family. There wasn’t anyone besides Eric to try and protest, but eventually, it got sold. All the furniture, belongings, sold along with it. A few days before the locks were changed, he snuck into the house to try and save something. Mostly books, a few decorations and statues that were dotted around the house, and a few pieces of jewelry. He can’t remember the address of the farm anymore, memory overridden by years of trying to forget everything. Moving on as his father instructed him to.
Unearthing the box from under his bed, Eric begins to flick through some of the books he doesn’t remember picking up. Beautifully handwritten, drawings framed by the delicate cursive. A woman emerging from a lake, wrath from the water drowning those who crossed it, fish with perfectly human eyes and teeth. Less of a fairytale and more of a nightmare. Alone in the family house that held only two instead of seventeen, he quietly reads aloud to no one besides himself. Passages about the goddess and her disciples, morally grey and flowing into every water source they find. Making him cover the bottle of water beside him in unfounded paranoia.
Drip... drip... drip...
That was the sound of the leaky roof in a family barn that hadn't been properly taken care of since the death of the woman who owned it. A small puddle had formed in the far corner of the room, several feet behind Eric as he reads the passages in the book about a vengeful river goddess and her loyal disciples, enacting punishments on those that crossed her.
Drip...
Somewhere, an unidentifiable gust of wind whispers for Eric to stop. Barely audible over the quiet sound of him reading. It's almost as if something, or someone, doesn't want him to hear the warning. As if Eric was doing something wrong, but there was somebody that was trying to prevent him from stopping. Somewhere else, a man in a deep plum suit was interrupted from a gory mess that he was making with a particularly cruel victim, the unfamiliar internal tug snapping him out of his sadistic trance. The tug is almost overwhelming, making the man hastily clean up his victim's bloody mess and look at his hands. They were... fading away? His hands were slowly turning transparent.
Drip.
Suddenly, Eric was not the only one in the room anymore. Daniel Rivers was standing in the puddle at the other end of the room, dark eyes scanning the shadowy room in search of why the fuck he was here and not in his victim's house. He sees a rather short man on the other side of the room, narrowing his eyes at the sight of the book in the other man's hands... was that...? Of course it was. Daniel didn't know how this idiot got ahold of it, but now he had summoned the spirit here for whatever reason, and that was unfathomably annoying. He began approaching the man who had summoned him.
Drip... step. Drip... step. Drip... step.
Daniel clasps a strong hand over the man's shoulder, a frown playing at his lips as he looks down at this person from behind. "I assume this must be important?"
Bundled up in the corner of his bed, Eric traces over the edges of the pictures. Water colour stained with decades of improper care no longer look as vivid as they should be. Though he doesn’t remember what it should’ve looked like. Acid and barbed wire turns in his stomach as he looks at a few of the more gory drawings, of faces screaming underwater, bodies dragged into the water and weighed down with stones. Surely his mother would’ve mentioned this folklore at one point, if she ended up keeping this book. Flipping ahead a bit more to avoid the sacrificial images, Eric continues to read the passages.
There isn’t a noise when he appears, lost in the odd words and descriptions of a unmerciful goddess. Eric can’t even glance towards the other books, ones he adored before, transfixed by the lore he doesn’t recognize. Despite the almost queasy feeling he gets from continuing to read it, he doesn’t want to stop. There’s only a little bit left, and it couldn’t hurt to just read it.
As he flips through a few more pages, he feels a heavy hand grip his shoulder. A real one, not some phantom sensation from reading too many horrors. Dropping the book, letting out a scream at the feeling. Not recognizing the voice in the slightest, trying to struggle out of his grip.
Daniel flinches a bit at the scream, not expecting that, and takes his hand away from the man who summoned him. Oh— well, he supposed he should have announced himself somehow before touching his summoner's shoulder without warning, but he digressed. The spirit straightens out his posture, looking down at the shorter man with a quiet hum. Maybe he had just grown apathetic throughout his solitary afterlife, or maybe he was just used to hearing the screams of the living due to the nature of his secondary job, but he was unfortunately rather unbothered by the fact that he'd just scared the wits out of this poor human.
"Well? Aren't you going to tell me why you summoned a disciple of the very river goddess herself?" he asked, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for a response from the clearly petrified human. He motioned towards the book that the human had dropped with one of his hands, looking at the object over his dark glasses and humming disapprovingly. "If you don't pick that up, it's going to anger her, darling boy... Take it from me, you do not want to upset a river goddess."
Of course, Daniel hadn't been the one to anger the goddess in the first place, but he still somehow managed to suffer from the consequences of his mothers upsetting her back in the 1970s. At the time, he'd blamed himself, but now he understood that the coven of witches that had raised him should have known better than to tempt forces so far beyond their comprehension. As a result, they'd lost their only son, and now Daniel was stuck on the mortal realm as a spirit that was roped into undertaking the less demanding tasks that the river goddess had to deal with. Things like being summoned by an anxious human who clearly didn't know what he was dealing with either. Not that Daniel didn't have other things to do with his afterlife, picking up odd jobs as a hired gun (or a hired knife, as he preferred) and a scammy paranormal investigator. Still. He'd rather be a plain mortal old man, like he would've been by now if he hadn't drowned so long ago.
Every nerve in his body is screaming, telling him to run as far as he can from whatever is suddenly in his room. Frozen to the spot, barely managing to turn himself to face the intruder. When he wishes to have a friend of sorts, he didn’t expect nor want a tall, dark and handsome man looming over him (even if he may have thought of it once after reading a few romance novels). Scrambling to try and move, but Eric’s brain only lets him put his back to the wall and stare at the summoned figure. One hand on the bed, grasping his handkerchief in the other in some form of defence. “A..a wh-what? A disciple?”
Glancing back at the book, he manages to realize listening is the best thing to do. Holding the book to his chest, unsure if he’s hyperventilating or holding his breath. What has he done? All he was doing was reading it, surely that couldn’t be enough to have some being come to his house. They keep saying that they were summoned, so was the reading enough to bring him? “Don’t..do-don’t hurt me..I’m sorry, I’m sorry please.” Cradling the book in his arms, Eric is a mouse cornered by a cat. Closing his eyes and bracing himself for some form of attack. He just wanted to know why his mother had that book, nothing else.
“What do y-you want? I uh..I don’t wa-want to die, please. Please..I ca-can do an-anything else, please. Do you wa-want the book back? I pr-promise I didn’t ta-take it, it’s my..it was my m-moms. Didn’t know, sh-should I have uh, have read it?”
Daniel paused, confused as to what Eric was so scared of. He summoned Daniel, anyway, it wasn't as if— Wait. What did he say? "I apologize, you... you're asking if you shouldn't have read the book," he repeated, trying to keep from doubling over and laughing his ass off. "Darling boy, I'm not here to hurt you— did you even pay attention to the words that you were reading out loud? From your reaction, I'm going to assume that you didn't mean to summon a disciple of the river goddess." It was laughable, how naive humans could be sometimes. This poor thing really had no idea what he was dealing with, and somehow— Daniel wasn't sure exactly how— his mother had managed to get her hands on a book of summoning, and now it was in this poor unsuspecting mortal's hands.
The spirit softly took the book from Eric's clutch, looking over the damaged pages and tutting his tongue. "Shame, this book hasn't been treated with the respect it deserved... the goddess will be so displeased. Your mother should have put more effort into taking care of this, you know— like I said before, angering a river goddess is a very poor idea."
He ran their ringed fingers over the painted pages, humming quietly to himself at the accuracy of the drowning scenes depicted in the book; he attempted to ignore the memories of the freezing water flooding into his lungs and running through his veins, the burning of his chest as he struggled for oxygen in the depths of the river he once loved so dearly, the sensation of pins and needles pricking his fingers and his toes as he lost that fight for oxygen, and the resignation to his fate once he realized that they wouldn't be able to fight against the current of the water or the stones weighing his body down as he sunk further and further into the water. "You know that this could put you in danger, um...? Apologies, I didn't catch a name."
Most of it hadn’t registered properly in his mind, mostly mumbling and slurring the words together. Exhausted already, and barely making sense of the book. Remembering more of the gore, of drowning countless mortals and a collection of spirits ok with the countless and endless suffering they cause. “No..no I-I uh…I didn’t me-mean to bother you..uh..just uh..just..” What was he supposed to do that he brought them here? Could he just ask them to go back? Keeping his head down, Eric tries to apologize under his breath. All he wanted was the book to mean something to his family, and enjoy it somehow.
Despite the gentle way it’s taken, he reacts as if it’s been snatched from his hands. Sitting up and trying to reach back for it. “It-its not her fa-fault! Ma-maybe..maybe she co-couldn’t do that. Ma-maybe she didn’t ru-ruin, co-could’ve been like this before!” As soon as he snaps, he goes quiet. Handkerchief balled up around his fist, as if could’ve helped cause any damage.
“And? It-it..it can’t be worse th-than everything already. I’m pr-probably cursed, and it-it’s not my book!” Instead of offering his name, he stares back at the spirit. “What’s yours?”
Oh, Daniel supposed he touched a nerve with the comment about Eric's mother. He narrows his eyes slightly as the other man reaches for the book, pulling it a bit further away. "No, I don't believe this belongs to you," he responds coldly, giving Eric a slightly condescending look as he closes it and holds onto the book a bit tighter. "You've already summoned me on accident, who knows what other kinds of things you'll accidentally summon? This is why I don't think these types of books should be given to living beings so easily, not when you all have such a blatant disregard for common sense."
He leans down to examine Eric quietly, looking over his face closely and frowning. "Do you not trust me? Why wouldn't you trust the mysterious man that appears from the darkness of your room?" he asks mockingly, eyes narrowed at the shorter man in silent judgement. "My name is Daniel Rivers. I'm a spirit, my family disrespected the river goddess in the nineteen-seventies, and she drowned me as a result. Now, I'm indebted to her for the rest of my afterlife. Will you please give me your name, so I can make sure she doesn't do the same to you? Despite the fact that I don't particularly enjoy being around living beings, I don't think it would be in my best interest to allow you to die."
Face burning in upset and shame, he tries to make himself smaller. Feet curled up underneath him, the metallic edge pointing towards the spirit. Every second he’s stared at from behind dark glasses feels like somethings drilling sharply into his skull. They couldn’t cause that by just looking at Eric, hopefully. “I ju-just want to uh, to me-keep it. Please? It’s..its imp-important. I wo-won’t read a-aloud from it, I won’t read it at a-all. I just wan-want to have it.” Nearly everything of his mothers presence was erased. An awkward limbo where Derek refused to let anything of hers stay, but the rooms of his brothers stay the same. He should’ve grabbed something more valuable before the farm was sold, but in the darkness he didn’t know what else to grab.
“I’m Eric De-Derekson. Of Derek Der-Dereksons Charity Warehouse.” So well rehearsed, it’s second nature to mention it alongside his new name. A ghost was standing in his room, bound to some goddess who drowned him. “I-I’m sorry..about your uh, yo-your passing.” There’s nothing that prepared him from dozens of funerals in the event of apologizing for someone’s death right to their face.
They narrow their black eyes as he asks to keep the book, and Daniel can't help but feel a tinge of pity for this guy. He clearly had no idea what he was getting into, and despite the spirit's desire to be blasé about this whole thing, he just seemed so... agh, nevermind. "Damn it. Fine, okay, here— take the damn book," he sighed dramatically, slipping the precious book back into Eric's hands and frowning at him. "Have you ever tried dodging the rage of an angry river goddess? Because you're going to need to learn how if you want to keep this book so desperately."
Despite his apparent irritation towards Eric, Daniel can't help but identify that they were feeling some sort of soft spot for his naivete. Apologizing for the spirit's death, even when he had nothing to.do with it? It was almost laughably human, a fact that made his chest hurt for a reason that he couldn't identify. "Why are you apologizing, 'Eric Derekson of Derek Derekson's Charity Warehouse'?" he asked, leaning a bit closer and trying to hide the grin that started playing at his lips. "Death is natural. It's not good or bad, merely comparable to some much-needed rest after a century-long party with your friends and family. In most cases, anyway. I was merely fated to die and become a disciple of the river goddess, to learn my lesson on why angering deities is a stupid idea." He tilts his head. "But I don't think it's your time to die. With a bit of guidance, you might be able to keep that book without any problems."
Clutching onto the book the moment the edges touch his hand, Eric shoves it back into the box and shuts the lid. Though he’s going to likely get beaten into a sad little pulp by the goddess, it almost pains him more to lose the book. “I’m..I-I’m not going to re-read it again. It wa-wasn’t my fault it was even uh, even ru-ruined. My mo-mother probably ha-had it before me..” Shifting slightly in his spot, Eric pulls at the edge of the prosthetics. Wincing as it digs into his legs, bruising the edges of the already sore skin. Taking them off crosses his mind, but with the then lack of mobility to get away from the spirit, he sits and suffers.
“It’s co-courtesy. Sorry for..for your loss of life.” Cringing as Daniel repeats the phrase he has memorized too much. An accidental reflex from repeating it under boiling studio lights until he was starting to slur. “Tha-that’s a surprise. Everything seems to wa-want to.” Two crashes, one group of carnivorous penguins, and at least half a dozen crates that missed his head.
Daniel's eyes flickered down towards Eric's prosthetics, noticing the other's discomfort within a split second due to the fact that the spirit took pleasure in the torture and murder of other people, and his blackened eyes trailed back upwards to focus on the living man with a quiet hum. "Yes, but your mother shouldn't have been in possession of that book," he replies calmly, straightening out his posture again and sitting beside Eric on the bed, gaze slowly tracing along the walls of the room to familiarize himself with the area. "It's a sacred relic that is only supposed to be in the possession of the priests that worship the river goddess."
He stretches out his back, popping his spine slightly before adjusting the lapel of his suit jacket, tracing a fingertip over the pendant hanging around the collar of his black turtleneck sweater and making sure it was secure enough that it wouldn't fall off somehow. "If you want to avoid her wrath, you're going to have to appease her somehow... have you ever ritually sacrificed a goat, Eric Derekson?" He tapped his neatly trimmed nails against the metal of his pendant, deep in thought about how he could make sure Eric got out of this without becoming a dead man.
As if he wouldn’t be able to get in the way in case it was reached for, Eric pushes the box back under the bed. It was only the one book, and he wouldn’t let the disciple touch the rest. Saving them from the possible ruin they’d want to inflict. Sighing when he notices the puddle of water seeping into the floor of his room, praying that every drop leaves with Daniel to save the ceiling downstairs. “She..she pr-probably saw it uh, saw it a ya-yard sale. She liked wa-watercolour. One of the pr-priests pro-probably lost it, got picked up and so-sold.” Indignantly trying to protect the memory of his mother instead of listening for once. Staying still when Daniel decides to join him, trying not to move. Movement wouldn’t do anything, but it felt safer to stay still.
“A..a what? No! I..of co-course I haven’t! No one..wh-who still does that? Ca-can’t I just ap-apologize? This…this is an a-accident still, w-wouldn’t she be understanding?” Clicking his feet together to stop pins and needles setting in, Eric stares towards the water instead. He couldn’t even swim. Hopefully that wasn’t a challenge he’d be forced to face for this deity.
Daniel rolled his eyes dramatically at Eric's reaction to the goat sacrifice mention, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Well, if you refuse to sacrifice a goat, I'm going to assume that you're not willing to sacrifice another human being either... thay leaves little opportunity, but if you insist on being so high and mighty, oh great 'Eric Derekson of Derek Derekson's Charity Warehouse'," they muttered to themself sarcastically, trying to think of some way that Eric could appease the river goddess without offending any other deities.
"Listen. Eric. I apologize if I'm coming off as... snippy. I really don't mean to, but it doesn't feel like you understand the gravity of angering a deity, even by doing something as little as keeping their sacred texts in your home." Daniel sighs, rubbing his temples with his fingertips and trying to mitigate the oncoming migraine. "I'm not sure what my mothers did to upset the goddess, she isn't exactly forthcoming about information, but it couldn't have been something more than accidentally letting her river water evaporate after collecting it in a jar. But even something as miniscule as that, dear Eric, caused me to drown in that freezing river and remain stuck on Earth for over half a decade. I'm trying to make sure the same thing doesn't happen to you, but it seems to me as if you don't know anything about the goddess beyond the little information given to you in the book."
What little anger he’d manage to find and express dies down as they grow increasingly frustrated. Quivering insults rest on the edge of his tongue, forgetting every single one the more Daniel speaks. It’s one of the only times he doesn’t like hearing his name said correctly. Trying to shrink into nothing, hands grasping at the handkerchief as he feels tears forcing their way into his eyes. “I..I don’t want to give it up. I re-really..I just wa-wanted to keep it. All of he-her stuff is gone, I want to..want to have something. Ev-everything I’ve collected, it do-doesn’t feel like hers. Things you ca-can buy, replicated.” Curled up as much as he can, Eric picks at the edges of the handkerchief.
“I don’t know an-anything. I know th-that. But..but I wo-wouldn’t go to the river. Ca-can’t swim anyways. Couldn’t you..couldn’t y-you say something? To her..make her un-understand. I could..co-could worship her? Is th-that what she’d want?” It feels like he’s being scolded, almost able to feel the studio lights blinding him again. “..I ca-can’t keep it..can I?”
Unfortunately, the river goddess was not as understanding or as merciful as Eric seemed to assume, and would probably be more offended if he tried worshipping her without the proper training or techniques. Daniel can't help but feel a tinge of remorse for this guy in the pit of their stomach, frowning softly and furrowing his eyebrows at the shorter man. All this guy really wanted was some way to remember his mother, and despite the fact that he accidentally summoned Daniel and interrupted a very important kill, it seemed as if this guy was relatively harmless to everyone but himself. Suffering from a bad luck curse or something maybe, and the spirit cleared his throat slightly in order to try and distract himself from the discomfort of feeling pity.
"You can keep the book, you just need to— ah, goddamn it," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment and taking a deep breath. "You know what? Fine. You'll keep the book if you want, but I'll have to stick around and make sure you don't trip and fall and drown in a puddle or something." Feeling defeated with his own sudden burst of empathy, Daniel bites his tongue and squeezes his hands into fists. "So you have three options, Eric Derekson. You can either give me the book and have this whole situation finished, you can keep the book and send me away and get killed by an immortality-fueled rage, or you can keep the book and let me protect you from the goddess's punishments. It's up to you, but if it was me making the choice, it would be pretty obvious."
It’s like the accident again. Vision blurring as he feels tears trying to break through, something beginning to choke his throat. Pain and burns against his legs shooting up. Eric would think it’s the goddess taking her revenge if it didn’t feel so familiar. Each annoyance and anger he thinks are coming from someone isn’t here bubbling up viciously. Sure he was wrong, and he was going to watch the piece of his mother be taken away again. “I’m sorry..” It’s not for Daniel, but it escapes him.
“You..you re-really can? I..I would love..lo-love to keep it. Please, if you s-stay here, I can keep it? As lo-long as..Dad. Shit, shit. Wh-what if he sees you? If he..he couldn’t hurt you, right? I uh..he, he doesn’t know I have the book. Do-don’t tell him. Please..” So, having the book meant having company too? He couldn’t exactly argue with it that much. That would be better than anything else. As cursed as he feels, the spirit could protect him from at least one thing. “Yeah..can you? Please st-stay. I..I promise I wo-won’t try and read it ag-again. I just..just want to..”
"Your father? I'm not sure, what if you just lied and told him I was your boyfriend or something along those lines?" he suggested, trying to figure out how this would go. "Or we could just remain at my own home until you didn't need my help anymore." Likely, he could just get Eric into the habit of avoiding any large water source after a while, get him to fall into a routine of doing little things to appease the goddess, and then the two of them could safely part ways; but Daniel did not want to stay at Eric's house. No offense to the shorter man, but the spirit preferred the quiet and solitude of the haunted woods surrounding his own home... With not one, but two other people in the same house as Daniel, he feared he would be unable to get the time to meditate that he'd needed so desperately as of late. Eric seemed quiet enough on his own, but Daniel knew literally nothing about the boy's father.
It might be a little easier to protect Eric at the spirit's house, anyway. There was really only one pathway to get to the river, since theore malicious spirits in the woods would get Eric lost on purpose if he tried to take any other path... Daniel knew that pathway like the back of his own hand, but thankfully hadn't gone anywhere near that damn river since they'd falled in and drowned so long ago. The thought of getting that close to a river— specifically that river, but really any of them— made him press his manicured nails firmly into his own palms. Yeah. Fuck that.
Boyfriend? Were they trying to get him killed by the goddess and his father? He nearly dies a brutal death in his mind, desperately trying to get that thought out of his head before it never leaves. As much as he would like to live at least a few more years, Eric doesn’t feel interested in watching a spirit and his father attempt to rip each other apart. No matter how tantalizing the image of a dead Derek is. “I uh..ok. That’s no-not..not su-such a bad idea. Could do wi-with getting out of here. When da-dad uh, dad sees the wa-water damage..rather not be here for that.”
Without opening the book, he attempts to remember absolutely anything from it. Mostly pictures, of the ghastly drowned beings that kneels beside the feminine figure in the book. It was a horror story, something his mother wouldn’t have just kept for herself. A cursed keepsake that was left in the house she was supposed to live in. “Wh-what do I have to do with uh..with the book?”
📼
“——, where are you? Sweetheart? Are you playing hide and seek again?” An exasperated voice comes from behind the camera, turning around as Derek walks through the halls of the warehouse. A few boys, most of them only ten to fifteen, run past him. A few stuttering words leave him, before the boys run past him again.
“You don’t have to keep calling for ——, I know that most of them are going out for a treat. Cerick is with them, they’ll be fine darling.” A woman steps in front of the camera, dressed in a bright yellow pantsuit. “And besides, ——‘s practically one of the boys.”
Maybe the deep woods were just colder than usual, but Finn couldn't suppress the anxious chill that ran down their spine as their footsteps sunk slightly into the fallen leaves that covered the ground the father they walked into the forest. A lycanthrope had been slaughtering innocent civilians nearby, turning college camping trips and last-minute honeymoons into horrible bloodbaths that were discovered by the forest rangers and wild animals in the mornings that proceeded. Finn was here to stop that bloodbath.
They didn't enjoy killing supernatural entities, not when those things had little control over their violent urges, but after seeing the sheer amount of victims that this werewolf had claimed... they knew that something had to be done. With their shotgun in hand, loaded with silver bullets, they used their flashlight to illuminate their path forward as they silently attempted to track down the beast and furrowed their eyebrows in concentration. The further they got into the forest, the thicker the underbrush got and the mud that covered the ground gradually hardened with the lack of access to sunlight even in the daytime. They stepped over roots and the ocassional forgotten item, biting the inside of their cheek to try and curb some of their unusual nervousness tonight.
Despite having done this sort of thing plenty of times before, however, they couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was very wrong. The sharp smell of death penetrated the otherwise calming forest air, and they didn't think that was just from the lycanthrope's victims... still, they pushed on, blue eyes scanning through the darkened trees as she attempted to locate the beast that they were here to put down.
- @lost-in-gardener
For fucks sake. At last, he’d tracked down what must’ve been the perfect victim. Same build, age, job, and personality as his father. After all his hard work, something would pay off for Eric. This would’ve been it, a chance to finally know what it was like to kill Derek. All lined up perfectly until last week. Reportedly, mauled to death by a wolf of some sorts. Bullshit. His perfect victim couldn’t die just by accident, so it had to be someone else. Another serial killer looking for a thrill. Left without a decent victim, he’d spent the last week searching for the apparent murderer. Another half a dozen people have been found dead in these woods, somewhere in the heart of it. Some 80’s horror slasher lurking in the woods. Payback was needed, and who knows. Maybe this one would finally let him see the murder he always wanted.
His appearance makes everything easier, with passersby assuming the timid little frame of a man couldn’t even say boo to a goose. Slipping oversized hiking boots filled with wooden blocks onto his feet, he makes sure not to leave a trail. Now it wouldn’t make sense, even with evidence how the barely five foot ex salesman could fit into them. His little perk of the prosthetics. With an assortment of woodworking tools stuffed into his backpack and a shred of yellow fabric tied around wrist, Eric heads into the woods.
As he wanders through, the edge of a flashlight catches his eye. Either victim or his rival. Staying towards the edges of the trees, he walks as silently as possible through the undergrowth. Forcing his face to be fearful, as if he expects to be slaughtered at any second.
Finn hears something close by, the rustling of leaves on the ground. Their fingers twitch around the handle of their shotgun, eyes narrowed as they look around to discover the source of the noise, and... Their tense posture relaxed at the sight of a short, unassuming guy that looked to be scared out of his fucking wits. "Fuck, you scared the shit out of me," they say with a breathless chuckle, motioning for the stranger to get out of the treeline so they could see him properly. "The hell are you doing out in the woods so late? There's been a bunch of uh... cougar attacks out here. Aren't you worried about getting hurt?"
They step a bit closer to the man, their eyes scanning over his features and the items with him. That looked like a heavy backpack— was this guy planning on camping? No, Finn was not gonna let some random civilian get killed in these woods just because he wanted to have a little camping trip in a murder-forest that had probably absorbed the blood of way too many people to be normal anymore. Maybe they would consider letting him be if he seemed like he could defend himself, but from the looks of it, this guy wouldn't even flip off a bumblebee.
She holds out her free hand, lowering the barrel of the shotgun and smiling softly. "My name is Finn, by the way— Finn Gardener. I'm tracking down the cougar so I can put it down and make sure it doesn't hurt anymore civilians. Of course... that might be a little hard to do if there's still civilians like you wandering the woods so late." The anxious feeling in their chest only worsened, somehow not very comforted by the sight of another human being out here. It was weird, they never usually felt so scared in the woods, actually comforted by being out in nature, but tonight they just felt slightly uneasy.
Listening to the crackle of the leaves should’ve been enough to prove how idiotic it was. Thinking he could sneak in a silent forest with someone listening in. Concerned at the sight of a shotgun, of all things. Hunting at night seemed weird, as if Eric hadn’t stalked half a dozen people in the darkness to get the best chance of killing them. “Oh! I..I uh..scared me..holy fu-fuck,” Pretending to pant, he steps shakily out of the trees. Clutching onto the straps of his bag with each step. “Yeah..ca-camping. I was uh..I was..trying to do so-some mushroom hunting. Ce-certain species glow, and I uh..I..work in a garden centre. Just wa-wanted..uh..”
Blinking to try and force tears into his eyes as he comes a bit more into view, Eric pretends to let out a slight cry of panic at the sight of the gun. Cowering away, keeping himself hunched over as he looks up at Finn. Shit, they were tall. Could they have been the one taking his victims? Since they were warding him away from the woods. “I’m Eric..nice to me-meet you.” Taking their hand, his palm is covered in a light sheen of sweat. More from his own upset than actual stress. “A shotgun? Tha-that doesn’t sound..sound so humane..”
"Mushrooms? Dude, if you were trying to get high, this is not the place to do it. I don't know if you've seen the copious amount of signs around the entrances to this forest, but people have been getting killed here. I don't think it would be easy to run away from a bloodthirsty cougar while you're hearing colors," they tease, smiling softly despite being slightly frustrated that their mission had to be put on hold while they got this random guy out of the woods safely.
"And a shotgun is perfectly ethical as long as you know how to use it— with a good aim and basic knowledge of anatomy, you can kill those things easily. Uh, cougars, I mean." They didn't want to tell Eric that there was a literal werewolf wandering around the woods, worried that he might think they were insane and report her to the police. Not that Finn minded prison, but she hated cops and didn't want to deal with them right now. They squeeze his hand slightly as they shake it, taking note of the sweat on his palms and how scared this guy seemed.
"Come with me. I'll show you the way out of the forest so you don't accidentally end up getting yourself hurt. Those mushrooms can wait until the morning." She lets go of his hand, trying to come off as confident instead of awkward or unsocialized. To be honest, they weren't exactly accustomed to interacting with actual humans anymore, spending so much time either holed up in their office finishing paperwork or out at night interacting with demons and ghosts. Not only that, but combined with their autism, their knowledge about social cues were close to none. Still, no matter how awkward or anxious they seemed, she needed to make sure Eric got out of these woods without being mauled by a lycanthrope on his way out.
“No! No of co-course not! It’s just for..for re-research. They ma-make soil he-healthier, makes our pl-plants live longer. Need to keep th-them alive,” Crocodile tears are already making their way down his face, fake hiccups and sniffling to sell it. “I know..kn-know it’s dangerous…boss sa-said I had to get them, oth-otherwise I shouldn’t bother to co-come into work tomorrow…don’t ha-have money for rent, so I ha-had to…” Not entirely a lie, since the current housing for him was the family house. Nothing had helped him remember Derek’s death, only what he truly missed.
His own brain doesn’t function as much as he’d like, filled already with the haze of wanting and needing to kill again. Not exactly caring about if he’d overselling the fear and anxiety. Trying to compute why they have a shotgun, since regular animals haven’t been killing all those people. They almost had to be part of this, hunting for her own revenge or for a victim. Perhaps there’s an entire society of killers who’ve chosen this as their hunting ground, it’s not like he socializes much with any of them. “No ple-please. Please, I ca-can’t, I can’t go back, he’s go-going to be so up-upset.”
For every chance Finn tries to push him away, the more sure he is of them being responsible for stealing his victim. Maybe they try a new method each time, trying to find some sickening niche. As if he didn’t do the same thing, as he tries to remember the method of the murder.
Fuck. They're clearly taken aback as the tears start pouring, and she has to refrain from reaching out and touching his shoulder to comfort him. "I— hey, it's gonna be okay..." they say softly, expression softening considerably as they realize how upset he is. Maybe they're a little too quick to change their mind, but... well, they can't help it. Seeing such a sweet-looking stranger cry like that hurt their heart for a reason they couldn't quite understand yet.
"If... if you really have to try to find those mushrooms, you can. Just stick behind me so I don't accidentally shoot you, okay? It'll be safer for the both of us if we stick together, anyway— the cougar's more likely to pick off people that are wandering on their own." Their anxiety is through the roof right now, and despite typically being the type of person to always follow their gut, Finn elected to ignore that feeling for now. Eric seemed peaceful enough, so it wasn't as if she was actually in any danger, right? If he was the werewolf, he would've attacked them already, so they decided that they should just try to protect him instead of being so wary of him.
Besides... even if they didn't actually find the lycanthrope tonight, wandering around the woods with someone else would be a good way to scope out the area for any potentials dens or hiding spots that it could try to use to its advantage when Finn actually did end of confronting it. Maybe then, they'd have a better chance at killing this thing with a single shot and avoiding letting the damn creature suffer.
Through thick sniffles and hiccups, he manages to sob out a thank you. Covering his face as he forces himself to keep crying. Pretending to wail about his job and how much he needs it as he begins to slow down the immense sobbing. For a long time, Eric hasn’t even acted out crying this much. Usually his typical routine of fear and anxiety is enough to lull his victims into some form of safety. Of course, he’d hate to have to kill Finn or kidnap them. Only half decided on whether or not they’ll leave unscathed as he steps behind her.
“Tha-thank you, thank you so mu-much..I’m so sorry, I uh, I pro-promise I won’t be a bo-bother.” Faking the voice crack hurts, rubbing at his throat in disdain as he tries to calm down. Crumbling a little was too cathartic for now, and he needed to stay focused. After all, he could still be getting a kill this week. Reaching around to his bag, his hand comfortably rest on the small spade tucked into the side. Pulling it out, pretending to be prepared for any mushrooms they find. They do have a gun, but Eric already sees a perfect spot behind their neck to dig the sharp edge into.
“How ba-bad has the cougar been? Is it re-really that violent? Or is it on-only provoked? Protecting wh-what it’s supposed to, or maybe it’s in-intelligent enough to hunt hu-human hunters.”
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Maybe the deep woods were just colder than usual, but Finn couldn't suppress the anxious chill that ran down their spine as their footsteps sunk slightly into the fallen leaves that covered the ground the father they walked into the forest. A lycanthrope had been slaughtering innocent civilians nearby, turning college camping trips and last-minute honeymoons into horrible bloodbaths that were discovered by the forest rangers and wild animals in the mornings that proceeded. Finn was here to stop that bloodbath.
They didn't enjoy killing supernatural entities, not when those things had little control over their violent urges, but after seeing the sheer amount of victims that this werewolf had claimed... they knew that something had to be done. With their shotgun in hand, loaded with silver bullets, they used their flashlight to illuminate their path forward as they silently attempted to track down the beast and furrowed their eyebrows in concentration. The further they got into the forest, the thicker the underbrush got and the mud that covered the ground gradually hardened with the lack of access to sunlight even in the daytime. They stepped over roots and the ocassional forgotten item, biting the inside of their cheek to try and curb some of their unusual nervousness tonight.
Despite having done this sort of thing plenty of times before, however, they couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was very wrong. The sharp smell of death penetrated the otherwise calming forest air, and they didn't think that was just from the lycanthrope's victims... still, they pushed on, blue eyes scanning through the darkened trees as she attempted to locate the beast that they were here to put down.
- @lost-in-gardener
For fucks sake. At last, he’d tracked down what must’ve been the perfect victim. Same build, age, job, and personality as his father. After all his hard work, something would pay off for Eric. This would’ve been it, a chance to finally know what it was like to kill Derek. All lined up perfectly until last week. Reportedly, mauled to death by a wolf of some sorts. Bullshit. His perfect victim couldn’t die just by accident, so it had to be someone else. Another serial killer looking for a thrill. Left without a decent victim, he’d spent the last week searching for the apparent murderer. Another half a dozen people have been found dead in these woods, somewhere in the heart of it. Some 80’s horror slasher lurking in the woods. Payback was needed, and who knows. Maybe this one would finally let him see the murder he always wanted.
His appearance makes everything easier, with passersby assuming the timid little frame of a man couldn’t even say boo to a goose. Slipping oversized hiking boots filled with wooden blocks onto his feet, he makes sure not to leave a trail. Now it wouldn’t make sense, even with evidence how the barely five foot ex salesman could fit into them. His little perk of the prosthetics. With an assortment of woodworking tools stuffed into his backpack and a shred of yellow fabric tied around wrist, Eric heads into the woods.
As he wanders through, the edge of a flashlight catches his eye. Either victim or his rival. Staying towards the edges of the trees, he walks as silently as possible through the undergrowth. Forcing his face to be fearful, as if he expects to be slaughtered at any second.
Finn hears something close by, the rustling of leaves on the ground. Their fingers twitch around the handle of their shotgun, eyes narrowed as they look around to discover the source of the noise, and... Their tense posture relaxed at the sight of a short, unassuming guy that looked to be scared out of his fucking wits. "Fuck, you scared the shit out of me," they say with a breathless chuckle, motioning for the stranger to get out of the treeline so they could see him properly. "The hell are you doing out in the woods so late? There's been a bunch of uh... cougar attacks out here. Aren't you worried about getting hurt?"
They step a bit closer to the man, their eyes scanning over his features and the items with him. That looked like a heavy backpack— was this guy planning on camping? No, Finn was not gonna let some random civilian get killed in these woods just because he wanted to have a little camping trip in a murder-forest that had probably absorbed the blood of way too many people to be normal anymore. Maybe they would consider letting him be if he seemed like he could defend himself, but from the looks of it, this guy wouldn't even flip off a bumblebee.
She holds out her free hand, lowering the barrel of the shotgun and smiling softly. "My name is Finn, by the way— Finn Gardener. I'm tracking down the cougar so I can put it down and make sure it doesn't hurt anymore civilians. Of course... that might be a little hard to do if there's still civilians like you wandering the woods so late." The anxious feeling in their chest only worsened, somehow not very comforted by the sight of another human being out here. It was weird, they never usually felt so scared in the woods, actually comforted by being out in nature, but tonight they just felt slightly uneasy.
Listening to the crackle of the leaves should’ve been enough to prove how idiotic it was. Thinking he could sneak in a silent forest with someone listening in. Concerned at the sight of a shotgun, of all things. Hunting at night seemed weird, as if Eric hadn’t stalked half a dozen people in the darkness to get the best chance of killing them. “Oh! I..I uh..scared me..holy fu-fuck,” Pretending to pant, he steps shakily out of the trees. Clutching onto the straps of his bag with each step. “Yeah..ca-camping. I was uh..I was..trying to do so-some mushroom hunting. Ce-certain species glow, and I uh..I..work in a garden centre. Just wa-wanted..uh..”
Blinking to try and force tears into his eyes as he comes a bit more into view, Eric pretends to let out a slight cry of panic at the sight of the gun. Cowering away, keeping himself hunched over as he looks up at Finn. Shit, they were tall. Could they have been the one taking his victims? Since they were warding him away from the woods. “I’m Eric..nice to me-meet you.” Taking their hand, his palm is covered in a light sheen of sweat. More from his own upset than actual stress. “A shotgun? Tha-that doesn’t sound..sound so humane..”
"Mushrooms? Dude, if you were trying to get high, this is not the place to do it. I don't know if you've seen the copious amount of signs around the entrances to this forest, but people have been getting killed here. I don't think it would be easy to run away from a bloodthirsty cougar while you're hearing colors," they tease, smiling softly despite being slightly frustrated that their mission had to be put on hold while they got this random guy out of the woods safely.
"And a shotgun is perfectly ethical as long as you know how to use it— with a good aim and basic knowledge of anatomy, you can kill those things easily. Uh, cougars, I mean." They didn't want to tell Eric that there was a literal werewolf wandering around the woods, worried that he might think they were insane and report her to the police. Not that Finn minded prison, but she hated cops and didn't want to deal with them right now. They squeeze his hand slightly as they shake it, taking note of the sweat on his palms and how scared this guy seemed.
"Come with me. I'll show you the way out of the forest so you don't accidentally end up getting yourself hurt. Those mushrooms can wait until the morning." She lets go of his hand, trying to come off as confident instead of awkward or unsocialized. To be honest, they weren't exactly accustomed to interacting with actual humans anymore, spending so much time either holed up in their office finishing paperwork or out at night interacting with demons and ghosts. Not only that, but combined with their autism, their knowledge about social cues were close to none. Still, no matter how awkward or anxious they seemed, she needed to make sure Eric got out of these woods without being mauled by a lycanthrope on his way out.
“No! No of co-course not! It’s just for..for re-research. They ma-make soil he-healthier, makes our pl-plants live longer. Need to keep th-them alive,” Crocodile tears are already making their way down his face, fake hiccups and sniffling to sell it. “I know..kn-know it’s dangerous…boss sa-said I had to get them, oth-otherwise I shouldn’t bother to co-come into work tomorrow…don’t ha-have money for rent, so I ha-had to…” Not entirely a lie, since the current housing for him was the family house. Nothing had helped him remember Derek’s death, only what he truly missed.
His own brain doesn’t function as much as he’d like, filled already with the haze of wanting and needing to kill again. Not exactly caring about if he’d overselling the fear and anxiety. Trying to compute why they have a shotgun, since regular animals haven’t been killing all those people. They almost had to be part of this, hunting for her own revenge or for a victim. Perhaps there’s an entire society of killers who’ve chosen this as their hunting ground, it’s not like he socializes much with any of them. “No ple-please. Please, I ca-can’t, I can’t go back, he’s go-going to be so up-upset.”
For every chance Finn tries to push him away, the more sure he is of them being responsible for stealing his victim. Maybe they try a new method each time, trying to find some sickening niche. As if he didn’t do the same thing, as he tries to remember the method of the murder.
It’s luck. Bad luck, but it’s still luck. After his mothers death, Derek had wanted to sell the farm she’d inherited from her family. There wasn’t anyone besides Eric to try and protest, but eventually, it got sold. All the furniture, belongings, sold along with it. A few days before the locks were changed, he snuck into the house to try and save something. Mostly books, a few decorations and statues that were dotted around the house, and a few pieces of jewelry. He can’t remember the address of the farm anymore, memory overridden by years of trying to forget everything. Moving on as his father instructed him to.
Unearthing the box from under his bed, Eric begins to flick through some of the books he doesn’t remember picking up. Beautifully handwritten, drawings framed by the delicate cursive. A woman emerging from a lake, wrath from the water drowning those who crossed it, fish with perfectly human eyes and teeth. Less of a fairytale and more of a nightmare. Alone in the family house that held only two instead of seventeen, he quietly reads aloud to no one besides himself. Passages about the goddess and her disciples, morally grey and flowing into every water source they find. Making him cover the bottle of water beside him in unfounded paranoia.
Drip... drip... drip...
That was the sound of the leaky roof in a family barn that hadn't been properly taken care of since the death of the woman who owned it. A small puddle had formed in the far corner of the room, several feet behind Eric as he reads the passages in the book about a vengeful river goddess and her loyal disciples, enacting punishments on those that crossed her.
Drip...
Somewhere, an unidentifiable gust of wind whispers for Eric to stop. Barely audible over the quiet sound of him reading. It's almost as if something, or someone, doesn't want him to hear the warning. As if Eric was doing something wrong, but there was somebody that was trying to prevent him from stopping. Somewhere else, a man in a deep plum suit was interrupted from a gory mess that he was making with a particularly cruel victim, the unfamiliar internal tug snapping him out of his sadistic trance. The tug is almost overwhelming, making the man hastily clean up his victim's bloody mess and look at his hands. They were... fading away? His hands were slowly turning transparent.
Drip.
Suddenly, Eric was not the only one in the room anymore. Daniel Rivers was standing in the puddle at the other end of the room, dark eyes scanning the shadowy room in search of why the fuck he was here and not in his victim's house. He sees a rather short man on the other side of the room, narrowing his eyes at the sight of the book in the other man's hands... was that...? Of course it was. Daniel didn't know how this idiot got ahold of it, but now he had summoned the spirit here for whatever reason, and that was unfathomably annoying. He began approaching the man who had summoned him.
Drip... step. Drip... step. Drip... step.
Daniel clasps a strong hand over the man's shoulder, a frown playing at his lips as he looks down at this person from behind. "I assume this must be important?"
Bundled up in the corner of his bed, Eric traces over the edges of the pictures. Water colour stained with decades of improper care no longer look as vivid as they should be. Though he doesn’t remember what it should’ve looked like. Acid and barbed wire turns in his stomach as he looks at a few of the more gory drawings, of faces screaming underwater, bodies dragged into the water and weighed down with stones. Surely his mother would’ve mentioned this folklore at one point, if she ended up keeping this book. Flipping ahead a bit more to avoid the sacrificial images, Eric continues to read the passages.
There isn’t a noise when he appears, lost in the odd words and descriptions of a unmerciful goddess. Eric can’t even glance towards the other books, ones he adored before, transfixed by the lore he doesn’t recognize. Despite the almost queasy feeling he gets from continuing to read it, he doesn’t want to stop. There’s only a little bit left, and it couldn’t hurt to just read it.
As he flips through a few more pages, he feels a heavy hand grip his shoulder. A real one, not some phantom sensation from reading too many horrors. Dropping the book, letting out a scream at the feeling. Not recognizing the voice in the slightest, trying to struggle out of his grip.
Daniel flinches a bit at the scream, not expecting that, and takes his hand away from the man who summoned him. Oh— well, he supposed he should have announced himself somehow before touching his summoner's shoulder without warning, but he digressed. The spirit straightens out his posture, looking down at the shorter man with a quiet hum. Maybe he had just grown apathetic throughout his solitary afterlife, or maybe he was just used to hearing the screams of the living due to the nature of his secondary job, but he was unfortunately rather unbothered by the fact that he'd just scared the wits out of this poor human.
"Well? Aren't you going to tell me why you summoned a disciple of the very river goddess herself?" he asked, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for a response from the clearly petrified human. He motioned towards the book that the human had dropped with one of his hands, looking at the object over his dark glasses and humming disapprovingly. "If you don't pick that up, it's going to anger her, darling boy... Take it from me, you do not want to upset a river goddess."
Of course, Daniel hadn't been the one to anger the goddess in the first place, but he still somehow managed to suffer from the consequences of his mothers upsetting her back in the 1970s. At the time, he'd blamed himself, but now he understood that the coven of witches that had raised him should have known better than to tempt forces so far beyond their comprehension. As a result, they'd lost their only son, and now Daniel was stuck on the mortal realm as a spirit that was roped into undertaking the less demanding tasks that the river goddess had to deal with. Things like being summoned by an anxious human who clearly didn't know what he was dealing with either. Not that Daniel didn't have other things to do with his afterlife, picking up odd jobs as a hired gun (or a hired knife, as he preferred) and a scammy paranormal investigator. Still. He'd rather be a plain mortal old man, like he would've been by now if he hadn't drowned so long ago.
Every nerve in his body is screaming, telling him to run as far as he can from whatever is suddenly in his room. Frozen to the spot, barely managing to turn himself to face the intruder. When he wishes to have a friend of sorts, he didn’t expect nor want a tall, dark and handsome man looming over him (even if he may have thought of it once after reading a few romance novels). Scrambling to try and move, but Eric’s brain only lets him put his back to the wall and stare at the summoned figure. One hand on the bed, grasping his handkerchief in the other in some form of defence. “A..a wh-what? A disciple?”
Glancing back at the book, he manages to realize listening is the best thing to do. Holding the book to his chest, unsure if he’s hyperventilating or holding his breath. What has he done? All he was doing was reading it, surely that couldn’t be enough to have some being come to his house. They keep saying that they were summoned, so was the reading enough to bring him? “Don’t..do-don’t hurt me..I’m sorry, I’m sorry please.” Cradling the book in his arms, Eric is a mouse cornered by a cat. Closing his eyes and bracing himself for some form of attack. He just wanted to know why his mother had that book, nothing else.
“What do y-you want? I uh..I don’t wa-want to die, please. Please..I ca-can do an-anything else, please. Do you wa-want the book back? I pr-promise I didn’t ta-take it, it’s my..it was my m-moms. Didn’t know, sh-should I have uh, have read it?”
Daniel paused, confused as to what Eric was so scared of. He summoned Daniel, anyway, it wasn't as if— Wait. What did he say? "I apologize, you... you're asking if you shouldn't have read the book," he repeated, trying to keep from doubling over and laughing his ass off. "Darling boy, I'm not here to hurt you— did you even pay attention to the words that you were reading out loud? From your reaction, I'm going to assume that you didn't mean to summon a disciple of the river goddess." It was laughable, how naive humans could be sometimes. This poor thing really had no idea what he was dealing with, and somehow— Daniel wasn't sure exactly how— his mother had managed to get her hands on a book of summoning, and now it was in this poor unsuspecting mortal's hands.
The spirit softly took the book from Eric's clutch, looking over the damaged pages and tutting his tongue. "Shame, this book hasn't been treated with the respect it deserved... the goddess will be so displeased. Your mother should have put more effort into taking care of this, you know— like I said before, angering a river goddess is a very poor idea."
He ran their ringed fingers over the painted pages, humming quietly to himself at the accuracy of the drowning scenes depicted in the book; he attempted to ignore the memories of the freezing water flooding into his lungs and running through his veins, the burning of his chest as he struggled for oxygen in the depths of the river he once loved so dearly, the sensation of pins and needles pricking his fingers and his toes as he lost that fight for oxygen, and the resignation to his fate once he realized that they wouldn't be able to fight against the current of the water or the stones weighing his body down as he sunk further and further into the water. "You know that this could put you in danger, um...? Apologies, I didn't catch a name."
Most of it hadn’t registered properly in his mind, mostly mumbling and slurring the words together. Exhausted already, and barely making sense of the book. Remembering more of the gore, of drowning countless mortals and a collection of spirits ok with the countless and endless suffering they cause. “No..no I-I uh…I didn’t me-mean to bother you..uh..just uh..just..” What was he supposed to do that he brought them here? Could he just ask them to go back? Keeping his head down, Eric tries to apologize under his breath. All he wanted was the book to mean something to his family, and enjoy it somehow.
Despite the gentle way it’s taken, he reacts as if it’s been snatched from his hands. Sitting up and trying to reach back for it. “It-its not her fa-fault! Ma-maybe..maybe she co-couldn’t do that. Ma-maybe she didn’t ru-ruin, co-could’ve been like this before!” As soon as he snaps, he goes quiet. Handkerchief balled up around his fist, as if could’ve helped cause any damage.
“And? It-it..it can’t be worse th-than everything already. I’m pr-probably cursed, and it-it’s not my book!” Instead of offering his name, he stares back at the spirit. “What’s yours?”
Oh, Daniel supposed he touched a nerve with the comment about Eric's mother. He narrows his eyes slightly as the other man reaches for the book, pulling it a bit further away. "No, I don't believe this belongs to you," he responds coldly, giving Eric a slightly condescending look as he closes it and holds onto the book a bit tighter. "You've already summoned me on accident, who knows what other kinds of things you'll accidentally summon? This is why I don't think these types of books should be given to living beings so easily, not when you all have such a blatant disregard for common sense."
He leans down to examine Eric quietly, looking over his face closely and frowning. "Do you not trust me? Why wouldn't you trust the mysterious man that appears from the darkness of your room?" he asks mockingly, eyes narrowed at the shorter man in silent judgement. "My name is Daniel Rivers. I'm a spirit, my family disrespected the river goddess in the nineteen-seventies, and she drowned me as a result. Now, I'm indebted to her for the rest of my afterlife. Will you please give me your name, so I can make sure she doesn't do the same to you? Despite the fact that I don't particularly enjoy being around living beings, I don't think it would be in my best interest to allow you to die."
Face burning in upset and shame, he tries to make himself smaller. Feet curled up underneath him, the metallic edge pointing towards the spirit. Every second he’s stared at from behind dark glasses feels like somethings drilling sharply into his skull. They couldn’t cause that by just looking at Eric, hopefully. “I ju-just want to uh, to me-keep it. Please? It’s..its imp-important. I wo-won’t read a-aloud from it, I won’t read it at a-all. I just wan-want to have it.” Nearly everything of his mothers presence was erased. An awkward limbo where Derek refused to let anything of hers stay, but the rooms of his brothers stay the same. He should’ve grabbed something more valuable before the farm was sold, but in the darkness he didn’t know what else to grab.
“I’m Eric De-Derekson. Of Derek Der-Dereksons Charity Warehouse.” So well rehearsed, it’s second nature to mention it alongside his new name. A ghost was standing in his room, bound to some goddess who drowned him. “I-I’m sorry..about your uh, yo-your passing.” There’s nothing that prepared him from dozens of funerals in the event of apologizing for someone’s death right to their face.
They narrow their black eyes as he asks to keep the book, and Daniel can't help but feel a tinge of pity for this guy. He clearly had no idea what he was getting into, and despite the spirit's desire to be blasé about this whole thing, he just seemed so... agh, nevermind. "Damn it. Fine, okay, here— take the damn book," he sighed dramatically, slipping the precious book back into Eric's hands and frowning at him. "Have you ever tried dodging the rage of an angry river goddess? Because you're going to need to learn how if you want to keep this book so desperately."
Despite his apparent irritation towards Eric, Daniel can't help but identify that they were feeling some sort of soft spot for his naivete. Apologizing for the spirit's death, even when he had nothing to.do with it? It was almost laughably human, a fact that made his chest hurt for a reason that he couldn't identify. "Why are you apologizing, 'Eric Derekson of Derek Derekson's Charity Warehouse'?" he asked, leaning a bit closer and trying to hide the grin that started playing at his lips. "Death is natural. It's not good or bad, merely comparable to some much-needed rest after a century-long party with your friends and family. In most cases, anyway. I was merely fated to die and become a disciple of the river goddess, to learn my lesson on why angering deities is a stupid idea." He tilts his head. "But I don't think it's your time to die. With a bit of guidance, you might be able to keep that book without any problems."
Clutching onto the book the moment the edges touch his hand, Eric shoves it back into the box and shuts the lid. Though he’s going to likely get beaten into a sad little pulp by the goddess, it almost pains him more to lose the book. “I’m..I-I’m not going to re-read it again. It wa-wasn’t my fault it was even uh, even ru-ruined. My mo-mother probably ha-had it before me..” Shifting slightly in his spot, Eric pulls at the edge of the prosthetics. Wincing as it digs into his legs, bruising the edges of the already sore skin. Taking them off crosses his mind, but with the then lack of mobility to get away from the spirit, he sits and suffers.
“It’s co-courtesy. Sorry for..for your loss of life.” Cringing as Daniel repeats the phrase he has memorized too much. An accidental reflex from repeating it under boiling studio lights until he was starting to slur. “Tha-that’s a surprise. Everything seems to wa-want to.” Two crashes, one group of carnivorous penguins, and at least half a dozen crates that missed his head.
Daniel's eyes flickered down towards Eric's prosthetics, noticing the other's discomfort within a split second due to the fact that the spirit took pleasure in the torture and murder of other people, and his blackened eyes trailed back upwards to focus on the living man with a quiet hum. "Yes, but your mother shouldn't have been in possession of that book," he replies calmly, straightening out his posture again and sitting beside Eric on the bed, gaze slowly tracing along the walls of the room to familiarize himself with the area. "It's a sacred relic that is only supposed to be in the possession of the priests that worship the river goddess."
He stretches out his back, popping his spine slightly before adjusting the lapel of his suit jacket, tracing a fingertip over the pendant hanging around the collar of his black turtleneck sweater and making sure it was secure enough that it wouldn't fall off somehow. "If you want to avoid her wrath, you're going to have to appease her somehow... have you ever ritually sacrificed a goat, Eric Derekson?" He tapped his neatly trimmed nails against the metal of his pendant, deep in thought about how he could make sure Eric got out of this without becoming a dead man.
As if he wouldn’t be able to get in the way in case it was reached for, Eric pushes the box back under the bed. It was only the one book, and he wouldn’t let the disciple touch the rest. Saving them from the possible ruin they’d want to inflict. Sighing when he notices the puddle of water seeping into the floor of his room, praying that every drop leaves with Daniel to save the ceiling downstairs. “She..she pr-probably saw it uh, saw it a ya-yard sale. She liked wa-watercolour. One of the pr-priests pro-probably lost it, got picked up and so-sold.” Indignantly trying to protect the memory of his mother instead of listening for once. Staying still when Daniel decides to join him, trying not to move. Movement wouldn’t do anything, but it felt safer to stay still.
“A..a what? No! I..of co-course I haven’t! No one..wh-who still does that? Ca-can’t I just ap-apologize? This…this is an a-accident still, w-wouldn’t she be understanding?” Clicking his feet together to stop pins and needles setting in, Eric stares towards the water instead. He couldn’t even swim. Hopefully that wasn’t a challenge he’d be forced to face for this deity.
Daniel rolled his eyes dramatically at Eric's reaction to the goat sacrifice mention, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Well, if you refuse to sacrifice a goat, I'm going to assume that you're not willing to sacrifice another human being either... thay leaves little opportunity, but if you insist on being so high and mighty, oh great 'Eric Derekson of Derek Derekson's Charity Warehouse'," they muttered to themself sarcastically, trying to think of some way that Eric could appease the river goddess without offending any other deities.
"Listen. Eric. I apologize if I'm coming off as... snippy. I really don't mean to, but it doesn't feel like you understand the gravity of angering a deity, even by doing something as little as keeping their sacred texts in your home." Daniel sighs, rubbing his temples with his fingertips and trying to mitigate the oncoming migraine. "I'm not sure what my mothers did to upset the goddess, she isn't exactly forthcoming about information, but it couldn't have been something more than accidentally letting her river water evaporate after collecting it in a jar. But even something as miniscule as that, dear Eric, caused me to drown in that freezing river and remain stuck on Earth for over half a decade. I'm trying to make sure the same thing doesn't happen to you, but it seems to me as if you don't know anything about the goddess beyond the little information given to you in the book."
What little anger he’d manage to find and express dies down as they grow increasingly frustrated. Quivering insults rest on the edge of his tongue, forgetting every single one the more Daniel speaks. It’s one of the only times he doesn’t like hearing his name said correctly. Trying to shrink into nothing, hands grasping at the handkerchief as he feels tears forcing their way into his eyes. “I..I don’t want to give it up. I re-really..I just wa-wanted to keep it. All of he-her stuff is gone, I want to..want to have something. Ev-everything I’ve collected, it do-doesn’t feel like hers. Things you ca-can buy, replicated.” Curled up as much as he can, Eric picks at the edges of the handkerchief.
“I don’t know an-anything. I know th-that. But..but I wo-wouldn’t go to the river. Ca-can’t swim anyways. Couldn’t you..couldn’t y-you say something? To her..make her un-understand. I could..co-could worship her? Is th-that what she’d want?” It feels like he’s being scolded, almost able to feel the studio lights blinding him again. “..I ca-can’t keep it..can I?”
Unfortunately, the river goddess was not as understanding or as merciful as Eric seemed to assume, and would probably be more offended if he tried worshipping her without the proper training or techniques. Daniel can't help but feel a tinge of remorse for this guy in the pit of their stomach, frowning softly and furrowing his eyebrows at the shorter man. All this guy really wanted was some way to remember his mother, and despite the fact that he accidentally summoned Daniel and interrupted a very important kill, it seemed as if this guy was relatively harmless to everyone but himself. Suffering from a bad luck curse or something maybe, and the spirit cleared his throat slightly in order to try and distract himself from the discomfort of feeling pity.
"You can keep the book, you just need to— ah, goddamn it," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment and taking a deep breath. "You know what? Fine. You'll keep the book if you want, but I'll have to stick around and make sure you don't trip and fall and drown in a puddle or something." Feeling defeated with his own sudden burst of empathy, Daniel bites his tongue and squeezes his hands into fists. "So you have three options, Eric Derekson. You can either give me the book and have this whole situation finished, you can keep the book and send me away and get killed by an immortality-fueled rage, or you can keep the book and let me protect you from the goddess's punishments. It's up to you, but if it was me making the choice, it would be pretty obvious."
It’s like the accident again. Vision blurring as he feels tears trying to break through, something beginning to choke his throat. Pain and burns against his legs shooting up. Eric would think it’s the goddess taking her revenge if it didn’t feel so familiar. Each annoyance and anger he thinks are coming from someone isn’t here bubbling up viciously. Sure he was wrong, and he was going to watch the piece of his mother be taken away again. “I’m sorry..” It’s not for Daniel, but it escapes him.
“You..you re-really can? I..I would love..lo-love to keep it. Please, if you s-stay here, I can keep it? As lo-long as..Dad. Shit, shit. Wh-what if he sees you? If he..he couldn’t hurt you, right? I uh..he, he doesn’t know I have the book. Do-don’t tell him. Please..” So, having the book meant having company too? He couldn’t exactly argue with it that much. That would be better than anything else. As cursed as he feels, the spirit could protect him from at least one thing. “Yeah..can you? Please st-stay. I..I promise I wo-won’t try and read it ag-again. I just..just want to..”
It’s luck. Bad luck, but it’s still luck. After his mothers death, Derek had wanted to sell the farm she’d inherited from her family. There wasn’t anyone besides Eric to try and protest, but eventually, it got sold. All the furniture, belongings, sold along with it. A few days before the locks were changed, he snuck into the house to try and save something. Mostly books, a few decorations and statues that were dotted around the house, and a few pieces of jewelry. He can’t remember the address of the farm anymore, memory overridden by years of trying to forget everything. Moving on as his father instructed him to.
Unearthing the box from under his bed, Eric begins to flick through some of the books he doesn’t remember picking up. Beautifully handwritten, drawings framed by the delicate cursive. A woman emerging from a lake, wrath from the water drowning those who crossed it, fish with perfectly human eyes and teeth. Less of a fairytale and more of a nightmare. Alone in the family house that held only two instead of seventeen, he quietly reads aloud to no one besides himself. Passages about the goddess and her disciples, morally grey and flowing into every water source they find. Making him cover the bottle of water beside him in unfounded paranoia.
Drip... drip... drip...
That was the sound of the leaky roof in a family barn that hadn't been properly taken care of since the death of the woman who owned it. A small puddle had formed in the far corner of the room, several feet behind Eric as he reads the passages in the book about a vengeful river goddess and her loyal disciples, enacting punishments on those that crossed her.
Drip...
Somewhere, an unidentifiable gust of wind whispers for Eric to stop. Barely audible over the quiet sound of him reading. It's almost as if something, or someone, doesn't want him to hear the warning. As if Eric was doing something wrong, but there was somebody that was trying to prevent him from stopping. Somewhere else, a man in a deep plum suit was interrupted from a gory mess that he was making with a particularly cruel victim, the unfamiliar internal tug snapping him out of his sadistic trance. The tug is almost overwhelming, making the man hastily clean up his victim's bloody mess and look at his hands. They were... fading away? His hands were slowly turning transparent.
Drip.
Suddenly, Eric was not the only one in the room anymore. Daniel Rivers was standing in the puddle at the other end of the room, dark eyes scanning the shadowy room in search of why the fuck he was here and not in his victim's house. He sees a rather short man on the other side of the room, narrowing his eyes at the sight of the book in the other man's hands... was that...? Of course it was. Daniel didn't know how this idiot got ahold of it, but now he had summoned the spirit here for whatever reason, and that was unfathomably annoying. He began approaching the man who had summoned him.
Drip... step. Drip... step. Drip... step.
Daniel clasps a strong hand over the man's shoulder, a frown playing at his lips as he looks down at this person from behind. "I assume this must be important?"
Bundled up in the corner of his bed, Eric traces over the edges of the pictures. Water colour stained with decades of improper care no longer look as vivid as they should be. Though he doesn’t remember what it should’ve looked like. Acid and barbed wire turns in his stomach as he looks at a few of the more gory drawings, of faces screaming underwater, bodies dragged into the water and weighed down with stones. Surely his mother would’ve mentioned this folklore at one point, if she ended up keeping this book. Flipping ahead a bit more to avoid the sacrificial images, Eric continues to read the passages.
There isn’t a noise when he appears, lost in the odd words and descriptions of a unmerciful goddess. Eric can’t even glance towards the other books, ones he adored before, transfixed by the lore he doesn’t recognize. Despite the almost queasy feeling he gets from continuing to read it, he doesn’t want to stop. There’s only a little bit left, and it couldn’t hurt to just read it.
As he flips through a few more pages, he feels a heavy hand grip his shoulder. A real one, not some phantom sensation from reading too many horrors. Dropping the book, letting out a scream at the feeling. Not recognizing the voice in the slightest, trying to struggle out of his grip.
Daniel flinches a bit at the scream, not expecting that, and takes his hand away from the man who summoned him. Oh— well, he supposed he should have announced himself somehow before touching his summoner's shoulder without warning, but he digressed. The spirit straightens out his posture, looking down at the shorter man with a quiet hum. Maybe he had just grown apathetic throughout his solitary afterlife, or maybe he was just used to hearing the screams of the living due to the nature of his secondary job, but he was unfortunately rather unbothered by the fact that he'd just scared the wits out of this poor human.
"Well? Aren't you going to tell me why you summoned a disciple of the very river goddess herself?" he asked, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for a response from the clearly petrified human. He motioned towards the book that the human had dropped with one of his hands, looking at the object over his dark glasses and humming disapprovingly. "If you don't pick that up, it's going to anger her, darling boy... Take it from me, you do not want to upset a river goddess."
Of course, Daniel hadn't been the one to anger the goddess in the first place, but he still somehow managed to suffer from the consequences of his mothers upsetting her back in the 1970s. At the time, he'd blamed himself, but now he understood that the coven of witches that had raised him should have known better than to tempt forces so far beyond their comprehension. As a result, they'd lost their only son, and now Daniel was stuck on the mortal realm as a spirit that was roped into undertaking the less demanding tasks that the river goddess had to deal with. Things like being summoned by an anxious human who clearly didn't know what he was dealing with either. Not that Daniel didn't have other things to do with his afterlife, picking up odd jobs as a hired gun (or a hired knife, as he preferred) and a scammy paranormal investigator. Still. He'd rather be a plain mortal old man, like he would've been by now if he hadn't drowned so long ago.
Every nerve in his body is screaming, telling him to run as far as he can from whatever is suddenly in his room. Frozen to the spot, barely managing to turn himself to face the intruder. When he wishes to have a friend of sorts, he didn’t expect nor want a tall, dark and handsome man looming over him (even if he may have thought of it once after reading a few romance novels). Scrambling to try and move, but Eric’s brain only lets him put his back to the wall and stare at the summoned figure. One hand on the bed, grasping his handkerchief in the other in some form of defence. “A..a wh-what? A disciple?”
Glancing back at the book, he manages to realize listening is the best thing to do. Holding the book to his chest, unsure if he’s hyperventilating or holding his breath. What has he done? All he was doing was reading it, surely that couldn’t be enough to have some being come to his house. They keep saying that they were summoned, so was the reading enough to bring him? “Don’t..do-don’t hurt me..I’m sorry, I’m sorry please.” Cradling the book in his arms, Eric is a mouse cornered by a cat. Closing his eyes and bracing himself for some form of attack. He just wanted to know why his mother had that book, nothing else.
“What do y-you want? I uh..I don’t wa-want to die, please. Please..I ca-can do an-anything else, please. Do you wa-want the book back? I pr-promise I didn’t ta-take it, it’s my..it was my m-moms. Didn’t know, sh-should I have uh, have read it?”
Daniel paused, confused as to what Eric was so scared of. He summoned Daniel, anyway, it wasn't as if— Wait. What did he say? "I apologize, you... you're asking if you shouldn't have read the book," he repeated, trying to keep from doubling over and laughing his ass off. "Darling boy, I'm not here to hurt you— did you even pay attention to the words that you were reading out loud? From your reaction, I'm going to assume that you didn't mean to summon a disciple of the river goddess." It was laughable, how naive humans could be sometimes. This poor thing really had no idea what he was dealing with, and somehow— Daniel wasn't sure exactly how— his mother had managed to get her hands on a book of summoning, and now it was in this poor unsuspecting mortal's hands.
The spirit softly took the book from Eric's clutch, looking over the damaged pages and tutting his tongue. "Shame, this book hasn't been treated with the respect it deserved... the goddess will be so displeased. Your mother should have put more effort into taking care of this, you know— like I said before, angering a river goddess is a very poor idea."
He ran their ringed fingers over the painted pages, humming quietly to himself at the accuracy of the drowning scenes depicted in the book; he attempted to ignore the memories of the freezing water flooding into his lungs and running through his veins, the burning of his chest as he struggled for oxygen in the depths of the river he once loved so dearly, the sensation of pins and needles pricking his fingers and his toes as he lost that fight for oxygen, and the resignation to his fate once he realized that they wouldn't be able to fight against the current of the water or the stones weighing his body down as he sunk further and further into the water. "You know that this could put you in danger, um...? Apologies, I didn't catch a name."
Most of it hadn’t registered properly in his mind, mostly mumbling and slurring the words together. Exhausted already, and barely making sense of the book. Remembering more of the gore, of drowning countless mortals and a collection of spirits ok with the countless and endless suffering they cause. “No..no I-I uh…I didn’t me-mean to bother you..uh..just uh..just..” What was he supposed to do that he brought them here? Could he just ask them to go back? Keeping his head down, Eric tries to apologize under his breath. All he wanted was the book to mean something to his family, and enjoy it somehow.
Despite the gentle way it’s taken, he reacts as if it’s been snatched from his hands. Sitting up and trying to reach back for it. “It-its not her fa-fault! Ma-maybe..maybe she co-couldn’t do that. Ma-maybe she didn’t ru-ruin, co-could’ve been like this before!” As soon as he snaps, he goes quiet. Handkerchief balled up around his fist, as if could’ve helped cause any damage.
“And? It-it..it can’t be worse th-than everything already. I’m pr-probably cursed, and it-it’s not my book!” Instead of offering his name, he stares back at the spirit. “What’s yours?”
Oh, Daniel supposed he touched a nerve with the comment about Eric's mother. He narrows his eyes slightly as the other man reaches for the book, pulling it a bit further away. "No, I don't believe this belongs to you," he responds coldly, giving Eric a slightly condescending look as he closes it and holds onto the book a bit tighter. "You've already summoned me on accident, who knows what other kinds of things you'll accidentally summon? This is why I don't think these types of books should be given to living beings so easily, not when you all have such a blatant disregard for common sense."
He leans down to examine Eric quietly, looking over his face closely and frowning. "Do you not trust me? Why wouldn't you trust the mysterious man that appears from the darkness of your room?" he asks mockingly, eyes narrowed at the shorter man in silent judgement. "My name is Daniel Rivers. I'm a spirit, my family disrespected the river goddess in the nineteen-seventies, and she drowned me as a result. Now, I'm indebted to her for the rest of my afterlife. Will you please give me your name, so I can make sure she doesn't do the same to you? Despite the fact that I don't particularly enjoy being around living beings, I don't think it would be in my best interest to allow you to die."
Face burning in upset and shame, he tries to make himself smaller. Feet curled up underneath him, the metallic edge pointing towards the spirit. Every second he’s stared at from behind dark glasses feels like somethings drilling sharply into his skull. They couldn’t cause that by just looking at Eric, hopefully. “I ju-just want to uh, to me-keep it. Please? It’s..its imp-important. I wo-won’t read a-aloud from it, I won’t read it at a-all. I just wan-want to have it.” Nearly everything of his mothers presence was erased. An awkward limbo where Derek refused to let anything of hers stay, but the rooms of his brothers stay the same. He should’ve grabbed something more valuable before the farm was sold, but in the darkness he didn’t know what else to grab.
“I’m Eric De-Derekson. Of Derek Der-Dereksons Charity Warehouse.” So well rehearsed, it’s second nature to mention it alongside his new name. A ghost was standing in his room, bound to some goddess who drowned him. “I-I’m sorry..about your uh, yo-your passing.” There’s nothing that prepared him from dozens of funerals in the event of apologizing for someone’s death right to their face.
They narrow their black eyes as he asks to keep the book, and Daniel can't help but feel a tinge of pity for this guy. He clearly had no idea what he was getting into, and despite the spirit's desire to be blasé about this whole thing, he just seemed so... agh, nevermind. "Damn it. Fine, okay, here— take the damn book," he sighed dramatically, slipping the precious book back into Eric's hands and frowning at him. "Have you ever tried dodging the rage of an angry river goddess? Because you're going to need to learn how if you want to keep this book so desperately."
Despite his apparent irritation towards Eric, Daniel can't help but identify that they were feeling some sort of soft spot for his naivete. Apologizing for the spirit's death, even when he had nothing to.do with it? It was almost laughably human, a fact that made his chest hurt for a reason that he couldn't identify. "Why are you apologizing, 'Eric Derekson of Derek Derekson's Charity Warehouse'?" he asked, leaning a bit closer and trying to hide the grin that started playing at his lips. "Death is natural. It's not good or bad, merely comparable to some much-needed rest after a century-long party with your friends and family. In most cases, anyway. I was merely fated to die and become a disciple of the river goddess, to learn my lesson on why angering deities is a stupid idea." He tilts his head. "But I don't think it's your time to die. With a bit of guidance, you might be able to keep that book without any problems."
Clutching onto the book the moment the edges touch his hand, Eric shoves it back into the box and shuts the lid. Though he’s going to likely get beaten into a sad little pulp by the goddess, it almost pains him more to lose the book. “I’m..I-I’m not going to re-read it again. It wa-wasn’t my fault it was even uh, even ru-ruined. My mo-mother probably ha-had it before me..” Shifting slightly in his spot, Eric pulls at the edge of the prosthetics. Wincing as it digs into his legs, bruising the edges of the already sore skin. Taking them off crosses his mind, but with the then lack of mobility to get away from the spirit, he sits and suffers.
“It’s co-courtesy. Sorry for..for your loss of life.” Cringing as Daniel repeats the phrase he has memorized too much. An accidental reflex from repeating it under boiling studio lights until he was starting to slur. “Tha-that’s a surprise. Everything seems to wa-want to.” Two crashes, one group of carnivorous penguins, and at least half a dozen crates that missed his head.
Daniel's eyes flickered down towards Eric's prosthetics, noticing the other's discomfort within a split second due to the fact that the spirit took pleasure in the torture and murder of other people, and his blackened eyes trailed back upwards to focus on the living man with a quiet hum. "Yes, but your mother shouldn't have been in possession of that book," he replies calmly, straightening out his posture again and sitting beside Eric on the bed, gaze slowly tracing along the walls of the room to familiarize himself with the area. "It's a sacred relic that is only supposed to be in the possession of the priests that worship the river goddess."
He stretches out his back, popping his spine slightly before adjusting the lapel of his suit jacket, tracing a fingertip over the pendant hanging around the collar of his black turtleneck sweater and making sure it was secure enough that it wouldn't fall off somehow. "If you want to avoid her wrath, you're going to have to appease her somehow... have you ever ritually sacrificed a goat, Eric Derekson?" He tapped his neatly trimmed nails against the metal of his pendant, deep in thought about how he could make sure Eric got out of this without becoming a dead man.
As if he wouldn’t be able to get in the way in case it was reached for, Eric pushes the box back under the bed. It was only the one book, and he wouldn’t let the disciple touch the rest. Saving them from the possible ruin they’d want to inflict. Sighing when he notices the puddle of water seeping into the floor of his room, praying that every drop leaves with Daniel to save the ceiling downstairs. “She..she pr-probably saw it uh, saw it a ya-yard sale. She liked wa-watercolour. One of the pr-priests pro-probably lost it, got picked up and so-sold.” Indignantly trying to protect the memory of his mother instead of listening for once. Staying still when Daniel decides to join him, trying not to move. Movement wouldn’t do anything, but it felt safer to stay still.
“A..a what? No! I..of co-course I haven’t! No one..wh-who still does that? Ca-can’t I just ap-apologize? This…this is an a-accident still, w-wouldn’t she be understanding?” Clicking his feet together to stop pins and needles setting in, Eric stares towards the water instead. He couldn’t even swim. Hopefully that wasn’t a challenge he’d be forced to face for this deity.
Daniel rolled his eyes dramatically at Eric's reaction to the goat sacrifice mention, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Well, if you refuse to sacrifice a goat, I'm going to assume that you're not willing to sacrifice another human being either... thay leaves little opportunity, but if you insist on being so high and mighty, oh great 'Eric Derekson of Derek Derekson's Charity Warehouse'," they muttered to themself sarcastically, trying to think of some way that Eric could appease the river goddess without offending any other deities.
"Listen. Eric. I apologize if I'm coming off as... snippy. I really don't mean to, but it doesn't feel like you understand the gravity of angering a deity, even by doing something as little as keeping their sacred texts in your home." Daniel sighs, rubbing his temples with his fingertips and trying to mitigate the oncoming migraine. "I'm not sure what my mothers did to upset the goddess, she isn't exactly forthcoming about information, but it couldn't have been something more than accidentally letting her river water evaporate after collecting it in a jar. But even something as miniscule as that, dear Eric, caused me to drown in that freezing river and remain stuck on Earth for over half a decade. I'm trying to make sure the same thing doesn't happen to you, but it seems to me as if you don't know anything about the goddess beyond the little information given to you in the book."
What little anger he’d manage to find and express dies down as they grow increasingly frustrated. Quivering insults rest on the edge of his tongue, forgetting every single one the more Daniel speaks. It’s one of the only times he doesn’t like hearing his name said correctly. Trying to shrink into nothing, hands grasping at the handkerchief as he feels tears forcing their way into his eyes. “I..I don’t want to give it up. I re-really..I just wa-wanted to keep it. All of he-her stuff is gone, I want to..want to have something. Ev-everything I’ve collected, it do-doesn’t feel like hers. Things you ca-can buy, replicated.” Curled up as much as he can, Eric picks at the edges of the handkerchief.
“I don’t know an-anything. I know th-that. But..but I wo-wouldn’t go to the river. Ca-can’t swim anyways. Couldn’t you..couldn’t y-you say something? To her..make her un-understand. I could..co-could worship her? Is th-that what she’d want?” It feels like he’s being scolded, almost able to feel the studio lights blinding him again. “..I ca-can’t keep it..can I?”
Maybe the deep woods were just colder than usual, but Finn couldn't suppress the anxious chill that ran down their spine as their footsteps sunk slightly into the fallen leaves that covered the ground the father they walked into the forest. A lycanthrope had been slaughtering innocent civilians nearby, turning college camping trips and last-minute honeymoons into horrible bloodbaths that were discovered by the forest rangers and wild animals in the mornings that proceeded. Finn was here to stop that bloodbath.
They didn't enjoy killing supernatural entities, not when those things had little control over their violent urges, but after seeing the sheer amount of victims that this werewolf had claimed... they knew that something had to be done. With their shotgun in hand, loaded with silver bullets, they used their flashlight to illuminate their path forward as they silently attempted to track down the beast and furrowed their eyebrows in concentration. The further they got into the forest, the thicker the underbrush got and the mud that covered the ground gradually hardened with the lack of access to sunlight even in the daytime. They stepped over roots and the ocassional forgotten item, biting the inside of their cheek to try and curb some of their unusual nervousness tonight.
Despite having done this sort of thing plenty of times before, however, they couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was very wrong. The sharp smell of death penetrated the otherwise calming forest air, and they didn't think that was just from the lycanthrope's victims... still, they pushed on, blue eyes scanning through the darkened trees as she attempted to locate the beast that they were here to put down.
- @lost-in-gardener
For fucks sake. At last, he’d tracked down what must’ve been the perfect victim. Same build, age, job, and personality as his father. After all his hard work, something would pay off for Eric. This would’ve been it, a chance to finally know what it was like to kill Derek. All lined up perfectly until last week. Reportedly, mauled to death by a wolf of some sorts. Bullshit. His perfect victim couldn’t die just by accident, so it had to be someone else. Another serial killer looking for a thrill. Left without a decent victim, he’d spent the last week searching for the apparent murderer. Another half a dozen people have been found dead in these woods, somewhere in the heart of it. Some 80’s horror slasher lurking in the woods. Payback was needed, and who knows. Maybe this one would finally let him see the murder he always wanted.
His appearance makes everything easier, with passersby assuming the timid little frame of a man couldn’t even say boo to a goose. Slipping oversized hiking boots filled with wooden blocks onto his feet, he makes sure not to leave a trail. Now it wouldn’t make sense, even with evidence how the barely five foot ex salesman could fit into them. His little perk of the prosthetics. With an assortment of woodworking tools stuffed into his backpack and a shred of yellow fabric tied around wrist, Eric heads into the woods.
As he wanders through, the edge of a flashlight catches his eye. Either victim or his rival. Staying towards the edges of the trees, he walks as silently as possible through the undergrowth. Forcing his face to be fearful, as if he expects to be slaughtered at any second.
Finn hears something close by, the rustling of leaves on the ground. Their fingers twitch around the handle of their shotgun, eyes narrowed as they look around to discover the source of the noise, and... Their tense posture relaxed at the sight of a short, unassuming guy that looked to be scared out of his fucking wits. "Fuck, you scared the shit out of me," they say with a breathless chuckle, motioning for the stranger to get out of the treeline so they could see him properly. "The hell are you doing out in the woods so late? There's been a bunch of uh... cougar attacks out here. Aren't you worried about getting hurt?"
They step a bit closer to the man, their eyes scanning over his features and the items with him. That looked like a heavy backpack— was this guy planning on camping? No, Finn was not gonna let some random civilian get killed in these woods just because he wanted to have a little camping trip in a murder-forest that had probably absorbed the blood of way too many people to be normal anymore. Maybe they would consider letting him be if he seemed like he could defend himself, but from the looks of it, this guy wouldn't even flip off a bumblebee.
She holds out her free hand, lowering the barrel of the shotgun and smiling softly. "My name is Finn, by the way— Finn Gardener. I'm tracking down the cougar so I can put it down and make sure it doesn't hurt anymore civilians. Of course... that might be a little hard to do if there's still civilians like you wandering the woods so late." The anxious feeling in their chest only worsened, somehow not very comforted by the sight of another human being out here. It was weird, they never usually felt so scared in the woods, actually comforted by being out in nature, but tonight they just felt slightly uneasy.
Listening to the crackle of the leaves should’ve been enough to prove how idiotic it was. Thinking he could sneak in a silent forest with someone listening in. Concerned at the sight of a shotgun, of all things. Hunting at night seemed weird, as if Eric hadn’t stalked half a dozen people in the darkness to get the best chance of killing them. “Oh! I..I uh..scared me..holy fu-fuck,” Pretending to pant, he steps shakily out of the trees. Clutching onto the straps of his bag with each step. “Yeah..ca-camping. I was uh..I was..trying to do so-some mushroom hunting. Ce-certain species glow, and I uh..I..work in a garden centre. Just wa-wanted..uh..”
Blinking to try and force tears into his eyes as he comes a bit more into view, Eric pretends to let out a slight cry of panic at the sight of the gun. Cowering away, keeping himself hunched over as he looks up at Finn. Shit, they were tall. Could they have been the one taking his victims? Since they were warding him away from the woods. “I’m Eric..nice to me-meet you.” Taking their hand, his palm is covered in a light sheen of sweat. More from his own upset than actual stress. “A shotgun? Tha-that doesn’t sound..sound so humane..”
⚔️ 🧚♂️
Send an emoji, and I will give you an idea for our muses to interact in this setting:
⚔️ Historical AU
Athenian youth was not the safest demographic to be as Crete demanded tribute every year, and every year fourteen young men and women disappeared under the island's palace.
It's just Eric's luck that he's out of the house at the wrong time, and his father is not nearly influential enough to stop him from being shipped off to Knossos with thirteen other unlucky sacrifices.
He's the last to be shoved into the Labyrinth, the heavy door shutting behind him with an ominous sound. Now he's in the dark, all alone...
...except for the beast hunting him.
🧚🏼♀️ Fantasy AU
Any land where humans are the minority is a land Asterius prefers. He enjoys walking through its forest, knowing no pest will bother him. He's even fortunate enough to stumble upon a community of creatures, and they intrigue him. Their wings shine and glimmer and that alone is enough to catch his attention.
He'll go bother the first one he sees to learn more about them, maybe take one home.
And Eric is unfortunate enough to be in his line of sight.
soooooo if eric was a magical creature, what would he be?
He’d be something silly like a fairy
On my stomach kicking my feet can you say why she became a pirate
Her father was Blackthorne the Butcher, infamous pirate captain that was known for being cunning and ruthless. The last thing he wanted was to have children, but he knew he had to keep his lineage going with an heir. But the only thing he wanted less than children was to have a girl... and yet, Merrick was born.
Her mother passed away shortly after Merrick was born and made Blackthorne swear to keep her alive. And he was a man of his word, but that doesn't mean he made it easy on her. He hired a woman to come along on the ship and raise her, wanting little to do with his daughter. Life at sea was rough for the small child, and she saw her fair share of brutality from a young age.
As she grew up, she proved herself to be just as capable as any other pirate on the ship and even begrudgingly earned her father's respect when she saved his life during a raid. He wouldn't be so lucky next time, and when he died, Merrick declared that she was now the captain by birthright and skill, and if anyone had a problem with that, they would have to deal with her.
Maybe the deep woods were just colder than usual, but Finn couldn't suppress the anxious chill that ran down their spine as their footsteps sunk slightly into the fallen leaves that covered the ground the father they walked into the forest. A lycanthrope had been slaughtering innocent civilians nearby, turning college camping trips and last-minute honeymoons into horrible bloodbaths that were discovered by the forest rangers and wild animals in the mornings that proceeded. Finn was here to stop that bloodbath.
They didn't enjoy killing supernatural entities, not when those things had little control over their violent urges, but after seeing the sheer amount of victims that this werewolf had claimed... they knew that something had to be done. With their shotgun in hand, loaded with silver bullets, they used their flashlight to illuminate their path forward as they silently attempted to track down the beast and furrowed their eyebrows in concentration. The further they got into the forest, the thicker the underbrush got and the mud that covered the ground gradually hardened with the lack of access to sunlight even in the daytime. They stepped over roots and the ocassional forgotten item, biting the inside of their cheek to try and curb some of their unusual nervousness tonight.
Despite having done this sort of thing plenty of times before, however, they couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was very wrong. The sharp smell of death penetrated the otherwise calming forest air, and they didn't think that was just from the lycanthrope's victims... still, they pushed on, blue eyes scanning through the darkened trees as she attempted to locate the beast that they were here to put down.
- @lost-in-gardener
For fucks sake. At last, he’d tracked down what must’ve been the perfect victim. Same build, age, job, and personality as his father. After all his hard work, something would pay off for Eric. This would’ve been it, a chance to finally know what it was like to kill Derek. All lined up perfectly until last week. Reportedly, mauled to death by a wolf of some sorts. Bullshit. His perfect victim couldn’t die just by accident, so it had to be someone else. Another serial killer looking for a thrill. Left without a decent victim, he’d spent the last week searching for the apparent murderer. Another half a dozen people have been found dead in these woods, somewhere in the heart of it. Some 80’s horror slasher lurking in the woods. Payback was needed, and who knows. Maybe this one would finally let him see the murder he always wanted.
His appearance makes everything easier, with passersby assuming the timid little frame of a man couldn’t even say boo to a goose. Slipping oversized hiking boots filled with wooden blocks onto his feet, he makes sure not to leave a trail. Now it wouldn’t make sense, even with evidence how the barely five foot ex salesman could fit into them. His little perk of the prosthetics. With an assortment of woodworking tools stuffed into his backpack and a shred of yellow fabric tied around wrist, Eric heads into the woods.
As he wanders through, the edge of a flashlight catches his eye. Either victim or his rival. Staying towards the edges of the trees, he walks as silently as possible through the undergrowth. Forcing his face to be fearful, as if he expects to be slaughtered at any second.
👑
@paperbackpieces-makemewhole
When he suddenly becomes the only heir to his family, Derek begins to pressure him to marry. Someone has to help him carry on the merchant family’s name, even if he has no real interest in it. Left to travel on his own, trying to sell the various trinkets and clothing they import across the seas.
Unknowingly setting up shop along one of the Kings routes, he somehow manages to charm the king Enzo enough to buy nearly all of their wares. Receiving an invitation to visit him, left with more than what the wares were even worth.
After a few months of being called back to visit him, Eric is given a technical job at the palace. Companion, tasked with keeping him company.
Subject to friends to lovers
🩸🔪 (can be together, separate or whichever one you like)
@merrick-of-violet
Congratulations you’ve won both!
Vampire au
After his families bus breaks down outside an abandoned home, he and his family attempt to go inside for help (horror protag L). Each of them are bitten, an ancient creature attempting to find a suitable person to turn. None of his family survive, and Derek is the only one who turns. Sheer luck helps him survive, hiding within the walls of the manor to survive.
Taken by Derek, he now serves as a human familiar to his father. Now attending multiple vampiric events and attempting to survive the gnashing teeth of each and every guest. In another one of those parties, Eric finds what seems to be the only friendly vampire. Merrick, who offers a deal to his father as long as she got to take him as a familiar.
It’s not so much as a subordinate as he was with Derek, but more so of a companion.
Uhh probably pretty Pg minus the blood and death
Strangers to worker and employer to friends to ??
Because I am silly I forgot the serial killer whoops dropping it here
Serial killer au
After killing Derek in a fit of rage, he becomes desperate to know what it felt like to actually kill him. Finding targets similar enough, in the hopes it would jog his memory of the horror. All he truly wants is to know what he said as Eric killed him.
After a while, he begins to notice some of his targets are being murdered before he gets to them. Strung up elaborately, bodies carved up and mauled. On one night staking out the victims house, he sees her. Merrick driving him back to hers, and in the morning, he’s found dead.
In annoyance that his few chances are being taken, Eric search’s for her. Eventually landing on the same night she plans to take out another one of his victims.
Rivals to co workers to friends
🧚♀️
🧚🏼♀️ Fantasy AU
Daniel Rivers was a merman, his tail damaged by hunters that wanted to steal his magic and sell him into slavery. He'd managed to make it to the shore of a secluded beach to get away from the hunters, but was near death by the time they collapsed onto the hot sand.
Eric Derekson, a young man who lived in the fisher's village nearby, stumbled across Daniel's unconscious body and slowly nursed him back to health by bringing him food and medicine. The two of them grew closer, and closer, until Eric's father found out that Daniel was staying on the shores of the beach. Derek, driven by greed and a lust for money, ordered Eric to kill Daniel. The two of them shared a gentle kiss before Daniel swam back into the depths of the ocean, never to return to that beach in fear of losing his life.
Eric, however, returned to that beach every night for the rest of his life.
🩸🔪 (can be together, separate or whichever one you like)
@merrick-of-violet
Congratulations you’ve won both!
Vampire au
After his families bus breaks down outside an abandoned home, he and his family attempt to go inside for help (horror protag L). Each of them are bitten, an ancient creature attempting to find a suitable person to turn. None of his family survive, and Derek is the only one who turns. Sheer luck helps him survive, hiding within the walls of the manor to survive.
Taken by Derek, he now serves as a human familiar to his father. Now attending multiple vampiric events and attempting to survive the gnashing teeth of each and every guest. In another one of those parties, Eric finds what seems to be the only friendly vampire. Merrick, who offers a deal to his father as long as she got to take him as a familiar.
It’s not so much as a subordinate as he was with Derek, but more so of a companion.
Uhh probably pretty Pg minus the blood and death
Strangers to worker and employer to friends to ??
