The Hannya Mask

[warandpeace]

Who: Event Post | Open
When: Dec. 5th - 15th
Where: Around Avagi
What: A demon is haunting the station, spurred on by emotional responses. More information can be found here.
Warnings: Violence, possible death, body horror, etc.

THE HAUNTING

The onryō starts making her first patrols in the early morning when most people are comfortably asleep and not wanting to wake up. The sense of unease she creates is palpable, and initially she just looks at who is around. She chooses in the dark who she should be angry with, who is a foolish idiot for making her mistakes and who is an ignorant soul who ignored the anguish of someone else's attention. Everyone else is unimportant.

Occasionally, rarely though, she'll stop and look at something. Usually carved or drawn or molded, something someone used their hands to create. The very faintest of scraps of who she used to be, though that's barely significant. There's not enough left of that self to deter her from stopping more of the foolishness that damned her.

The Noh mask appears the same day, the same time as her first investigations get underway, and there it remains, conveniently close to where the Ingress once was.

The mask will always return to this original state the moment it's not being observed. It'll be returned to its resting place. If it's been destroyed or altered or damaged in any way, it'll be back to the state that it was when previously examined (even permanent marker would disappear).

It's made of cypress wood and is covered in layers of chalk paint and a glue-like sealant. On the back is a raised signature, indicating that it was handmade by an artisan. On closer examination (like swabbing or enhanced senses or super scanner) there's a bit of smoke damage, but otherwise it's not been worn many times. The straps attached are hardly frayed at all. However it's aged, it's not from scuffing or rough handling.

There might not be much time to notice or to bother with it, though. Not when people are being hunted in the shadows, when quick hands reach out from cabinets or a hunched form hangs upside down from underneath a table, waiting for someone to sit down too close to her.

Comments

[clussy]

(Being knocked out cold from a blow to the head wasn't always like it was in movies. There wasn't usually much fighting back to be done. You just went down like a bag of bricks, and it was hard to get out of that when the urge to stay down and out was a big one. Especially when a world of hurt was waiting the moment you opened your eyes up.

It isn't Hawke's voice that twists its way through him to bring him back. It's the warmth of her magic pouring into him. The only magic Eddie Kaspbrak has ever been exposed to was the evil magic of It; Its invasion of the most private, personal parts of Eddie that even Eddie himself refused to look in the eye. It had scraped his mind of its memories- he's sure of it- and It had broken apart all of his friends the exact same way. That kind of magic left him feeling sicker than his mother ever had.

Not this magic.

This magic made him feel like he was somewhere safe. In the cluster of arms that belonged to his friends. People always figured 'home' was where someone felt the safest, but home for Eddie had always been a guarded trap door that would slam shut behind him. It was the shackle that weighed his whole existence down until he was crawling on his hands and knees. Not his friends though. Not this. It eased the screaming pain that he had begun to become aware of, feeling it cut deep into him. The break was bad, but the magic soothed it into a break that didn't splinter skin, snapped it back into place in a way that was so much nicer than having it aggressively yanked.

Had someone been calling his name?

The cut on his head shrunk in size and severity, though there was still blood all over. It was then that Eddie's eyes slowly cracked open, his whole world coming to color.

Hawke.

Hawke with a bloody nose, Hawke who he's never seen look quite so serious before. He makes a small, gurgling sound, the pain in his throat the absolute worst.

Before Hawke's magic reaches it, his throat is a bit crushed, bruised to a dangerous point, but her magic pulls that back. Relaxes it until it only hurts a little. When Eddie finally does speak, his voice is hoarse and quiet.)

What- (He begins to ask, but he coughs, his small body going into a bit of a fit against her. But at least he was alive- alive counted for a lot.)

What the fuck just happened? (Yup. He was going to be okay.)

[otiosity]

You got yanked down the hallway by some nasty lady with four arms and by "lady" I mean demon. Other than that? No idea. I have to say, this wasn't how I expected my evening to go.

[She uses the hem of her shirt to clean the blood off his face with the hand that's not propping him up. It's not really meant to be a gentle gesture but more of a utilitarian one. She'd spent most of her childhood cleaning up her younger siblings' cuts and scraps and simply did it without thinking. Then she uses it to clean some of the blood from her nose though it does little against the continuing flow.

Kitty gives Eddie an affectionate lick on the cheek and snuffs at his hair as if to check that he's really okay while Hawke keeps a firm grip on his shoulders. She's grown quickly fond of Eddie Kaspbrak and that meant she was determined not to let anything bad happen to him. Her poor track record be damned.]

[clussy]

Jeeeesus. You're telling me. (He's trying to keep himself a little lighthearted, but if he's being honest, he felt like absolute shit. He hadn't even felt this roughed up coming out of the sewers. It played with its food, but God damn. He makes a soft little squawking sound when his face is cleaned up, but the moment he shifts, he's giving a faint gasp of pain.

Eddie's never bruised his ribs before, and he instantly discovers it's a miserable feeling. He grabs blindly at Hawke.)

Shit. (He wheezes, his hand curling into whatever piece of fabric he could get a hold of. Eddie's body begins to shake a little. There was the paranoia. Tears began to dribble out of his eyes, streaking through what blood was left over, and he gives a sniff.)

Am I dying? (Of course he wasn't dying, but having never bruised his ribs before, having such an intense internal pain made him feel panicky. He gives a shaking deep breath, and oh, boy. Never a good sign.)

Oh Christ. I broke a rib and it's stabbing my lung, isn't it? Fuck!

(Also not true, but the kid was going into Panic Mode which was never too easy to drag him out of.)

[otiosity]

Don't stretch it. It's my roommate's and he'll kill me if it gets ruined.

[Hawke jokes dryly as he starts to pull on her shirt that's soaked with blood and getting further soaked as her nose continues to drip blood. Then she tightens her grip on his shoulder and tries to work the fingers of her other hand around his fingers to loosen the grip on his shirt and hold them instead.]

And no you're not. You're far too loud to have a punctured lung, let alone be dying. You're perfectly fine except for some broken bones here and there.

[Carver used to get like this. Panicked and afraid when he was injured or worried. She'd learned not to indulge him in those sorts of things. And usually she'd just tease him instead. So Eddie really was getting the kindest treatment.]

Broken ribs are a pain. Literally. But they'll heal. Just no rough-housing, fighting, running, that sort of thing. Oh, and try not to sneeze. Insider advice.

[She hopes that inspires... something in him other than tears. She really doesn't know what she'd do if he started to cry.]

[clussy]

(There was a strangeness in Eddie's psyche wherein it was much easier for him to panic about things he couldn't see versus the things that he could. With a history of manipulation under his belt, Eddie's got a stipulation against injuries he can't confirm himself. Made being sick a literal nightmare. Made the rib thing a lot scarier to him than it really had to be, much to the misfortune of Hawke.

He gives another rasping wheeze, staring up at her, because what if she was wrong? His eyes fall down to the broken arm. It had been a lot worse before Hawke healed it, and it still was out of place, looking wrong.)

Jeeesus.

(It seems to help though, because Eddie's wheezing stutters out a little. It was a small blessing Hawke hadn't decided to tease him. He might have started bawling like a baby- if only because he'd feel stupid about it, bad that he was doing this again. He had told Richie he was going to try-.

He gives an ugly sniff, whining lowly in the pit of his throat.)

My friends are going to flip.

(That's worth his attention more than the chaotic pinging of pain darting from one part of his body to the other. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them back up, staring at Hawke, trying hard to keep himself calm. It was only half working.)

Your nose, Hawke. (He tries to move, to try and do something about that. Grab some of the tissues from his pocket, maybe, but moving hurts a hell lot worse than he thought it would and he just winds up slumping against her.)

Ugh. God. You gotta- tip your head back.

[otiosity]

It's fine. I'll just heal it later. And going around with my head tipped back seems awfully inconvenient. Hard to see where you're going.

[Of course, you're not supposed to move while doing it, she knows that, that's why it's a joke. She looks down at him, she can feel his panic as much as she can see it. What does she say? How did her father always know the words to say when she was a child and needed comfort? Was it something you automatically get from the Maker once you become a parent? Because him looking like that cut deeply in her heart and she usually did her best to avoid feeling that sort of thing.]

Probably. Because they're worried about you. [As her friends had after the Arishok fight. Her voice is lighter than normal, quiet and clear with no hint of a teasing lilt.] And it looks bad and it hurts and it's going to hurt for awhile and it's probably going to be pretty miserable. But you'll heal. And then things will be better and if it ever happens again, you know you can handle it. And you will.

[She's not sure that's great advice. But she does know that she hates being pitied and won't pity Eddie in this situation either. All she can do is tell what him what she knows and hope that it's true.]

[clussy]

You don't- guh. Go around with it tipped back. You do it now and let the bleeding stop.

(Gosh, Hawke. If he wasn't so fragile in comparison to her, he might insist on following her around far more often to calmly berate her on some of these life choices she was making. Probably for the best for the both of them that he wasn't going to.

Looking back on it, he would start to feel embarrassed that he had freaked out so much around Hawke. She was tough, and a person that Eddie would like to impress. At the moment though? Worrying and feelings of anxiety happened to be Eddie's specialty.)

They don't...deserve to have to worry about this kind of thing again. (His voice breaks, and for a second, it really does seem like he's going to start sobbing. At least this time, it seems more out of some sort of guilt than it did pain. He manages to hold himself together, but only just barely. Kid would cry alone later in his bed (stifling the sounds so he didn't wake Richie up and worry him even more.)

Eddie gingerly makes a move with his good hand, reaching down to touch his own ribs. His paranoia lead him to believe he would instantly feel the splintered edges and wrongness of broken ribs.

Instead, he felt what he normally would, but on top of it there was just a hell of a lot of pain.)

Aw fuuuuck- God. (Okay, yeah. Not broken, but holy. He grimaces, and gives a small nod. His breathing starts to even out a little, and it's only a good sign that he was starting to calm back down.)

Yeah- Christ. I will. I'd like to try...and make a habit of like, not letting it happen again. I literally just broke my arm- the same arm, two months- three months? ago. What are the chances?

(The chances are that the universe has a cosmic sense of humor that involves Eddie getting that particular arm butchered.)

[otiosity]

Well, I can't do it now. I'm looking you over. I'm not good at multitasking.

[She reaches up to wipe some of the blood away. It seems to at least be bleeding less and less as time passes. Also if he followed her around and berate her she would find it infinitely charming and thus create more things for him to berate her about. Like a fun sort of game.

She used to play it with Carver.

Except then his voice breaks and she tenses. She feels... helpless and small in the face of a boy's tears and that's a disorienting place to be. She can kill crowds of bandits and fight off a dragon but she doesn't know how to comfort a scared kid.

Shit.

Slowly she reaches up with her other hand to gently touch his cheek for a few seconds before pulling it away. Her mother used to do that and somehow it was comforting. Maybe it was a special thing for mothers. But she'd done it to Bethany too, years ago, and it seemed to calm her.]

They don't. But they will. Because you matter to them. And you'd worry about them too. I guess that's friendship, really.
[She's trying to channel Aveline there. Hawke remembers a time she had a bad flu but tried to play it off and ended up collapsing and Aveline had snapped at her "We worry about you because we care, Hawke. Not because we're trying to burden ourselves with the weight of you." Hawke grips his shoulder in what she hopes is a reassuring fashion.]

Definitely make it a habit. But sometimes the universe likes to play jokes like this. I get pneumonia every other year and you just have to laugh at the universe like you think it's hilarious. I always say "wonderful, I've been exhausted, thanks for the chance to stay in bed for a week.]

[clussy]

(For all that his mother had claimed to care about him, he had never actually received any genuine comfort from her like this. Yet despite his ingrained mentality of a more manipulative maternal figure, he is aware, to some extent, maybe a natural inclination towards how mothers should be, that the gesture Hawke does with her hand against his face is one that a mother would do. It startles him into a state of calm, even if it's a tense calm.

It was almost funny how gentleness, goodness, and kindness could impact Eddie as solidly as a punch to the gut. He stares up at Hawke with dark eyes, realizing just then that this was the first time he's been around an adult woman who wasn't screaming her head off about him being hurt. Who was talking calmly to him, who wasn't shrieking about his friends being horrible influences- being the reason he was hurt.

He relaxes, and although Eddie was already smaller and a little younger looking than his friends, in that moment, he really does look like a little kid.)

I guess.

(His voice is small, but he's no longer on the verge of crying or panicking, so Hawke had clearly done something right. The grip is reassuring- particularly on top of everything else. He lets out a quiet breath. The pain was still bad, but now that he was focusing, he could pinpoint where he was hurting all over.)

Pneumonia is dangerous, Hawke. People die from it all the time. (He is smiling a little, relaxing at last. Well, as much as he could considering his state of being.)

What...What did the monster look like?

[otiosity]

[When he relaxes, Hawke relaxes. Her hand moves back to grip his to hopefully help further calm him. He looks so young. Like a child. A child that shouldn't have to deal with these sorts of things. She had, and it had stolen much of her innocence and so she'd tried to shield her younger siblings as best she could. And it hadn't been enough, if she's honest with herself.

She uses her thumb to stroke his shoulder idly.]

Well, I've won every battle thus far. And yet, it always keeps coming back to challenge me. I guess we're meant to be eternal rivals forever meeting on the battlefield of my immune system.

[His grin is returned and she glances down the hall before back at him.]

A lady with a mask, four arms, and awful hair. She really needs a trim. Also a waste of four arms. I'd use them to cook dinner much quicker and also do tricks at parties.

[clussy]

(While Eddie might not have quite been a child by his own definition anymore, he was still only twelve, and sometimes that number didn't feel nearly as big as he wanted it to. This was one of those times. He shamefully wanted to curl up against Hawke and ask her to carry him, to take care of him, but he doesn't do that. He still soaks in what comfort she is willing to give, because he's desperate for as much.)

There's scarier things to fight than that I guess.

(The explanation of the demon is a strange one, but a relieving one. It hadn't felt at all like It, especially not with how it had taken Eddie into the dark. Still, something in him unwinds and he slumps a little against Hawke, sighing with faint relief. Hawke didn't seem particularly scared either, which while the demon herself was probably pretty haunting, It knew how to shake someone up.)

Okay. Okay good.

(Which probably sounded weird, but Eddie had greater fears honestly.)

Maybe she wanted to cook dinner with me.

(Though clearly she had been unimpressed by the taste if she ditched Eddie somewhere. He looks up at Hawke, grimacing a little.)

How bad is walking going to hurt with the ribs exactly?

[otiosity]

[Hawke would take care of him in a heartbeat and that surprises even her. But she's glad she doesn't have to because then she'd start worrying about if she was comforting him properly and taking care of him as she should. She never had the natural inclination towards that sort of thing, she had done her best with what she had.

She pulls him a little closer to her.]

Definitely scarier things. Like bees. And flesh eating fish. Which I'm not sure exist, but definitely sound terrifying.

[She sniffs]

Maybe. But I think you'd be gamey. And you have a lot of bones to pick out.

[She gives him a lopsided grin and grips his shoulders in preparation for the move.]

It's going to hurt. But you'll make it through, you're tougher than you think. Then I'll get you patched up and you can rest.

[clussy]

(Hawke very well might be better at it than she realizes. Or maybe it's just how she is in particular that works well with Eddie, because he felt comforted by her just fine without her trying too hard. Her calmness and certainty helped to ground him. That tell-tale humor in her mannerism made him feel like things couldn't be completely shit, or else she wouldn't be making jokes so easily.)

And fungal infections. You can lose a toe. (Which is horrifying to think about, but he mostly just sounds tiredly amused. A good sign.

He grins back at her, and lets himself be amused for just a split second at the idea of a monster struggling with his ribs too much to enjoy eating him. It's what a monster would deserve.

You're tougher than you think. Eddie shuts his eyes, and he can almost hear Bill saying the same exact words. He lets the feeling of someone else's confidence in him wrap him up. He takes a small breath and gives a nod.)

Okay. Thank you, Hawke.

(He does something then that's probably a little childish, but he doesn't really care. She had just saved his life, and he felt a wealth of affection bubbling up inside of him. He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek towards her ear. It's a brisk gesture, and soon, he's holding onto her shoulder with his good hand and pushing himself gingerly up. He gets shakily to his feet, sweating from the pain, and maybe a little from his panic attack from earlier.)

Jesus this is a real bitch.

[otiosity]

Exactly! And if you lose a toe then that's all people are ever going to ask you about and a fungal infection isn't even an exciting story. It's just embarrassing.

[When his lips press against her cheek, she blinks. She's not really used to her help being appreciated. Usually after she helps someone they ask her for something else or criticize her work. Such is life. But kids are different. They don't have bullshit expectations of people. And that simple fact charms her heart.

She gives him an affectionate squeeze that turns into a tight grip as she supports him standing, going slowly and letting him lean his entire weight against her and using all of her muscles to lift him.]

The worst bitch. Don't go on a date with her.