Carlisle Longinmouth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tongueamok) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2019-04-20 01:36 am
tongueamok) wrote in hadriel_logs2019-04-20 01:36 am
Entry tags:
Surveying
Who: Carlisle Longinmouth (tongueamok), OTA
What: A catch-all for late April/early May in which a skittish clergyman decides that collecting some new plants from the local selection is a good idea
Where: Outskirts of the city
When: Late April - Early May (feel free to either be affected by the events going on or not!)
Warnings: Lots of plants and a guy being pedantic about plants.
For the second time since he'd been spirited away from Bear Den, Carlisle found himself in a jungle. Having spent his entire life in the mountains, he hadn't been ready the first time: no amount of reading could have prepared him for the sweltering heat, no books having accurately described how the atmosphere was so wet and stifling that even the shade of the canopy above brought little respite. Despite that, even he had to admit it was, thus far, better than the camp near the Tranquility, as the river wasn't acidic, the jungle wasn't inhabited by insectoid natives (that he knew of), and the citizens weren't being psychically attacked by a living abomination of a ship every minute of every day.
Of course, being put through the wringer by the gods on a regular basis wasn't that much of an improvement, but Carlisle was willing to take what he could get in this circumstance. He still had his house, and that house had a bath. Unlike the makeshift camp near the wreck of the Tranquility, he could wash away the sweat and grime of the day with ease. The value of that luxury was absolutely immeasurable.
He also still had his garden, and though it no longer needed the magical dome to keep out the chill, he found it still helped regulate the temperature inside, keeping it comfortable for his plants -- and himself when he was in there. As much as he didn't like to venture too far from the familiar safety and relative comfort of his garden, he was curious as to what flora this new world had to offer, particularly when it came to what he could grow for himself. It wasn't that he didn't have plenty to tend to already, certainly not with how fast the coilers grew; however, the colorful leaves and vibrant flowers that dotted the landscape around them were painfully enticing, even to someone as cowardly as him.
And so he took to venturing out on rare occasions, carrying with him his pruning shears and a few supplies in his satchel. Though there was plenty of heat and sun to go around, he stubbornly refused to wear anything less than long sleeves and slacks, his worn-out tabard left behind for a change. Maybe he felt it'd get in the way, or ruined further, or maybe he'd just decided his poor tabard has seen enough of a jungle for one lifetime.
The brush is dense, too overgrown for him to travel far, but anyone wandering might find him scavenging, stooped near some peculiar flowers, collecting bark and branches from nearby trees, rolling leaves in cloth and storing seeds in bottles. Others might stumble upon him trying to encourage a gaudy beetle to walk into a jar, the bug refusing to budge and him frustrated as he nudges it with a twig. Or perhaps they come upon him that time he's stuck high in a tree as what appears to be a large cat, its brown fur peppered with patches of silver and grey, stalks the ground below.
But no matter what finds Carlisle doing, he's sure to be snitty about it. The heat will do that.
tongueamok), OTAWhat: A catch-all for late April/early May in which a skittish clergyman decides that collecting some new plants from the local selection is a good idea
Where: Outskirts of the city
When: Late April - Early May (feel free to either be affected by the events going on or not!)
Warnings: Lots of plants and a guy being pedantic about plants.
For the second time since he'd been spirited away from Bear Den, Carlisle found himself in a jungle. Having spent his entire life in the mountains, he hadn't been ready the first time: no amount of reading could have prepared him for the sweltering heat, no books having accurately described how the atmosphere was so wet and stifling that even the shade of the canopy above brought little respite. Despite that, even he had to admit it was, thus far, better than the camp near the Tranquility, as the river wasn't acidic, the jungle wasn't inhabited by insectoid natives (that he knew of), and the citizens weren't being psychically attacked by a living abomination of a ship every minute of every day.
Of course, being put through the wringer by the gods on a regular basis wasn't that much of an improvement, but Carlisle was willing to take what he could get in this circumstance. He still had his house, and that house had a bath. Unlike the makeshift camp near the wreck of the Tranquility, he could wash away the sweat and grime of the day with ease. The value of that luxury was absolutely immeasurable.
He also still had his garden, and though it no longer needed the magical dome to keep out the chill, he found it still helped regulate the temperature inside, keeping it comfortable for his plants -- and himself when he was in there. As much as he didn't like to venture too far from the familiar safety and relative comfort of his garden, he was curious as to what flora this new world had to offer, particularly when it came to what he could grow for himself. It wasn't that he didn't have plenty to tend to already, certainly not with how fast the coilers grew; however, the colorful leaves and vibrant flowers that dotted the landscape around them were painfully enticing, even to someone as cowardly as him.
And so he took to venturing out on rare occasions, carrying with him his pruning shears and a few supplies in his satchel. Though there was plenty of heat and sun to go around, he stubbornly refused to wear anything less than long sleeves and slacks, his worn-out tabard left behind for a change. Maybe he felt it'd get in the way, or ruined further, or maybe he'd just decided his poor tabard has seen enough of a jungle for one lifetime.
The brush is dense, too overgrown for him to travel far, but anyone wandering might find him scavenging, stooped near some peculiar flowers, collecting bark and branches from nearby trees, rolling leaves in cloth and storing seeds in bottles. Others might stumble upon him trying to encourage a gaudy beetle to walk into a jar, the bug refusing to budge and him frustrated as he nudges it with a twig. Or perhaps they come upon him that time he's stuck high in a tree as what appears to be a large cat, its brown fur peppered with patches of silver and grey, stalks the ground below.
But no matter what finds Carlisle doing, he's sure to be snitty about it. The heat will do that.
no subject
"Found anything edible?" Which he realizes isn't the most important thing considering the shops are still stocked with canned goods, but he misses the orchard so much, a fresh.. whatever the hell fruits there are out here would be amazing. "I didn't squash it did I? I'm sorry, didn't know anyone else was out here."
He gently sets the spider deer on the ground, letting her gather all those legs so she can make a dash for freedom, only to be pulled back by the harness. She bleats like a sheep before turning to try and gnaw on the rope. When that is also unsuccessful she plops down in the shade of one of the shrubs and starts the long process of licking ten legs clean.
no subject
He gestures toward the spider deer. Hopefully, whatever she needs for her diet won't be too troublesome for Pratt to obtain, though that does bring to mind another question:
"Did you see the mother? How big will she be?"
no subject
And if not there will be a wonderful mess in Pratt's kitchen as he mushes up plants and fruits for her to eat.
"Yeah I asked Jo if anyone had tried to eat anything out here and had to be rushed to the Clinic because it was poisonous, but she hadn't heard of anything yet. Maybe people are smart enough to not eat the potentially deadly jungle fruit." Which means someone has to figure out a different way to see what's edible or not. Or take one for the team and find out the hard way. "I did notice some sort of round green fruit with a rind but when I peeled it it was full of bugs. So I'm not sure anything out here is good for human consumption."
no subject
And Carlisle eats that, because he is painfully incapable of fending for himself in such a manner. Though trained in trapping and tracking, his skills are novice, at best, and he's not sure any trap he could set would hold the wildlife he's seen so far. Even his attempt to catch a beetle failed. He sighs, feeling pathetic, as usual.
He looks to the spider deer in her harness, having a seat on the ground as he finds a clean piece of paper. Might as well take notes while he can. "You're keeping her as livestock, then? Or a pet? Surely she cannot rejoin the wild if hand-reared."
no subject
He reaches down to stroke its ears which it seems to tolerate while engaged in the important task of grooming, "Fortunately they don't climb too well when they're this young or I never would have caught her."
Which is definitely not answering the question about if he's going to keep it as a pet. Moving on.
"Need any help with what you're doing?"
no subject
He's silent for a second, rubbing at the back of his neck as heavier thoughts come to his mind.
"I don't need any help at the moment, but I would prefer some company. I have been meaning to check on you, to see, ah. How you fared for the duration of the gods' madness."
no subject
"I spent the next three days barricaded in my house with all my furniture blocking the exits and a gun trained on the door." He's not exactly proud of that, but he survived and he didn't kill anyone and no one killed him, which is all he can ask for really. "How about you? Everything go okay after I ran away?"
no subject
All in all, his encounter with Pratt and Caedra might have been the least eventful of them all.
"I can blame such troubles on the false gods," he continues. "As well as the presence of a demon within the city. Why would they bring such a foul being here? And what reason has she for chasing you? Are you secretly an exorcist, and have yet to tell me?"
no subject
It hadn't been a grenade, it had been a bolt of dark energy but at the time he hadn't known that magic existed so his brain had scrambled for logical answers. As for Carlisle's question, he's not sure that these false gods actually control who shows up, or they would be hand picking people with the proper emotions to feed them. And unless there's secretly a god of panic he doesn't know about - Pratt isn't being good fodder for them.
"I imagine she's powering Rage all by herself."
no subject
He shudders, remembering the possessed Emily, how she taunted both him and Glacius by turning her body against them. Is that how it is for this demon? Is she parading around in someone else's skin?
He's not sure he wants to know, honestly -- the mere thought disgusts him. "She has been here for some time, but can I help it, I will not let harm come to you. Not by way of a demon like her."
no subject
Eugh. He makes a disgusted face, looking away, "She's awful. You have demons like her where you come from?"
That sounds terrible. He has awful demonic people who are goddamn monsters, but they're ultimately still people. Maybe that's worse, that someone capable of empathy and compassion would still act like that. But at least they're mortal and don't have magic to attack others with.
"Thanks, that's... thank you."
no subject
Or so he says, despite having little experience in dealing with demons head-on; he's never repelled ones so strong until Hadriel. Still, he knows his deity would smile upon such vigilance against those invading the mortal plane, and so he holds himself to it, despite the unadulterated terror he feels at the very thought of facing the aforementioned demon again. Were it not for certain circumstances -- his bond with his partner providing him with an abundant source of energy, as well as his awareness and fortitude having been unhindered by the false gods at the time -- she surely could have cracked his barrier and torn them both limb from limb.
He forces himself to swallow that thought, his hand shaking as he continues to write down notes about the spindle-legged deer. He can fret in his paranoia later.
"Where I come from, demons are uncommon," he explains, "and those that do cross into our realm need a conduit to do so, as well as a vessel to house them. They are not of our plane of existence, and are constantly drawn back to where they came from as their energies dwindle. A vessel helps them contain those energies, but it can also be their weakness, should one exorcise and seal away their demonic taint."
no subject
"By a vessel you mean they possess someone? So that might just be the body of some random person she's using to walk around?" He shudders, that's a little horrifying. Briefly he wonders if someone who's possessed is just trapped helplessly in their body watching everything or if they're unconscious. For the first time he's a little glad he normally blacks out while being forced to commit atrocities.
"How do you exorcise them? Could we do that to her?"