Z. Altius (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chimericalclaw) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
expiationlogs2025-04-01 01:45 pm
chimericalclaw) wrote in expiationlogs2025-04-01 01:45 pm
open 🌌 crime of the day: overworking
Who: Altius & you??
Where: clinic; residential district ruins; network; around the city generally
When: immediately after the March event into early April
What: In the wake of monsters, Altius attempts to deal with the consequences.
Warnings: suicidal ideation
⬬ when you lose your self esteem | recovery; mid-late March
[The shade isolates himself as the Black Beast is destroyed—though by that point the wisps of shadow that trail behind him and disappear reveal enough of the man that it would have been obvious, had anyone been there to see him, that the wish to be nothing was losing its hold on him. As the transformation finally fades, Zekarion collapses, burns from light scattered across his body with the most severe of them spreading across his back.
Eventually, someone finds him. After that, he spends nearly a day unconscious.]
A [When he wakes in the clinic it's with panic. A shuddering gasp marks his return to consciousness, and he pays no attention to his injuries as he grasps at his head desperately, as if to make sure it's still there. Amber eyes wide, his sharp gaze darts then to where his mostly-ruined belongings sit on the other side of the room—then, finally, to whoever might be there in the room with him.]
B [Altius politely but firmly declines staying in the clinic more than absolutely necessary, given the circumstances—meaning he isn't there more than a day after waking. Though his burns are unpleasant even after some magical healing, eventually he gets around to convincing whoever might want to keep him there that he's capable of taking care of himself, promising to update anyone concerned about the matter. Really, the thing he ends up more willingly waiting for is a change of clothes—though it's not from his own wardrobe that he ends up dressed. After that, he's taking stock of his salvageable inventory—onyx tie clip, small pouch, wallet and partly-singed notebook—as he prepares to get going.]
⬬ that's when love dies | ruins; mid-late to late March
A [His obvious immediate first stop is... what used to be his house. Or it would have been, had the destruction not been clear two blocks away from it, debris from the collapsed buildings scattered as if from some sort of explosion. His steps slow to a stop before he takes it all in, then—
He laughs. Three seconds of the helpless sound; three seconds of silence as all the energy of it leaves him. His shoulders only sink so far, as if he's holding himself in place, and he only allows himself a brief moment of stillness before he prepares to step through the rubble.]
B [Later, when he's less obviously a mess and more put together, he comes back to continue salvaging what he can. He does more than look through his own home, though; if he happens to spot anyone else also sorting through the destruction, wherever it might be, he's more likely than not to step forward and lend a hand.
And sometimes, in other parts of the city where Altius isn't, a small number of black creatures made of crystal help with the work—though not possessed of any great magic and only rising to most people's waists, their giant jaws of sharp points are good for breaking through debris and making it easier to move.]
⬬ you look like you're bluffing | network, un: altius; end of March
I'm looking into building a new agricultural and general garden space within the city for the Chosen. I have little experience with cultivating plants, so I'm interested in speaking to anyone willing to contribute their expertise or effort. I'll compensate you appropriately.
[It's short and to the point. He doesn't think he needs to explain why.]
⬬ tell me, is it death, you feel | erasure; early April
[Before now, it would have been invisible. But sometimes, as the days go on, he slips.
When will this be over? — I don't want to be here. — What good is any of this doing?
As he thinks this, shadow overtakes whatever he has his hand on—a door, a set of documents, a box, a slab of broken bricks—and before he can register it as much more than a change of color, it disappears entirely, disintegrated into nothing.
Altius freezes. His expression blanks, the only thing remaining there intensity. The tremor in his posture might speak to the internal battle for control that he's waging over himself.]
⬬ that will bring you peace of life? | wildcard
[Altius contacts those he works with in order to check up on them specifically, and those who answered his call for volunteers to compensate them as promised. As for those the shade encountered... he's slightly less direct, seeking them out physically in what he thinks to be their general haunts to test if they're even amenable to his approach. With his home destroyed and the city in some disarray, there's no real guarantee of stopping by somewhere and seeing him.
He may have seemed to have an impressive work ethic before, but at this stage it wouldn't be mistaken to consider his constant movement unhealthy. Even to those who didn't speak to him as a shadow, it's clear that something is off about him, a stiffness in his demeanor, especially after his discovery of his new ability—when he stops openly gesturing and offering the physical reassurance he usually does, and pointedly keeps hands to himself.
ooc: Anything else? Hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
lumieresdedragon or PWM!]
Where: clinic; residential district ruins; network; around the city generally
When: immediately after the March event into early April
What: In the wake of monsters, Altius attempts to deal with the consequences.
Warnings: suicidal ideation
⬬ when you lose your self esteem | recovery; mid-late March
[The shade isolates himself as the Black Beast is destroyed—though by that point the wisps of shadow that trail behind him and disappear reveal enough of the man that it would have been obvious, had anyone been there to see him, that the wish to be nothing was losing its hold on him. As the transformation finally fades, Zekarion collapses, burns from light scattered across his body with the most severe of them spreading across his back.
Eventually, someone finds him. After that, he spends nearly a day unconscious.]
A [When he wakes in the clinic it's with panic. A shuddering gasp marks his return to consciousness, and he pays no attention to his injuries as he grasps at his head desperately, as if to make sure it's still there. Amber eyes wide, his sharp gaze darts then to where his mostly-ruined belongings sit on the other side of the room—then, finally, to whoever might be there in the room with him.]
B [Altius politely but firmly declines staying in the clinic more than absolutely necessary, given the circumstances—meaning he isn't there more than a day after waking. Though his burns are unpleasant even after some magical healing, eventually he gets around to convincing whoever might want to keep him there that he's capable of taking care of himself, promising to update anyone concerned about the matter. Really, the thing he ends up more willingly waiting for is a change of clothes—though it's not from his own wardrobe that he ends up dressed. After that, he's taking stock of his salvageable inventory—onyx tie clip, small pouch, wallet and partly-singed notebook—as he prepares to get going.]
⬬ that's when love dies | ruins; mid-late to late March
A [His obvious immediate first stop is... what used to be his house. Or it would have been, had the destruction not been clear two blocks away from it, debris from the collapsed buildings scattered as if from some sort of explosion. His steps slow to a stop before he takes it all in, then—
He laughs. Three seconds of the helpless sound; three seconds of silence as all the energy of it leaves him. His shoulders only sink so far, as if he's holding himself in place, and he only allows himself a brief moment of stillness before he prepares to step through the rubble.]
B [Later, when he's less obviously a mess and more put together, he comes back to continue salvaging what he can. He does more than look through his own home, though; if he happens to spot anyone else also sorting through the destruction, wherever it might be, he's more likely than not to step forward and lend a hand.
And sometimes, in other parts of the city where Altius isn't, a small number of black creatures made of crystal help with the work—though not possessed of any great magic and only rising to most people's waists, their giant jaws of sharp points are good for breaking through debris and making it easier to move.]
⬬ you look like you're bluffing | network, un: altius; end of March
I'm looking into building a new agricultural and general garden space within the city for the Chosen. I have little experience with cultivating plants, so I'm interested in speaking to anyone willing to contribute their expertise or effort. I'll compensate you appropriately.
[It's short and to the point. He doesn't think he needs to explain why.]
⬬ tell me, is it death, you feel | erasure; early April
[Before now, it would have been invisible. But sometimes, as the days go on, he slips.
When will this be over? — I don't want to be here. — What good is any of this doing?
As he thinks this, shadow overtakes whatever he has his hand on—a door, a set of documents, a box, a slab of broken bricks—and before he can register it as much more than a change of color, it disappears entirely, disintegrated into nothing.
Altius freezes. His expression blanks, the only thing remaining there intensity. The tremor in his posture might speak to the internal battle for control that he's waging over himself.]
⬬ that will bring you peace of life? | wildcard
[Altius contacts those he works with in order to check up on them specifically, and those who answered his call for volunteers to compensate them as promised. As for those the shade encountered... he's slightly less direct, seeking them out physically in what he thinks to be their general haunts to test if they're even amenable to his approach. With his home destroyed and the city in some disarray, there's no real guarantee of stopping by somewhere and seeing him.
He may have seemed to have an impressive work ethic before, but at this stage it wouldn't be mistaken to consider his constant movement unhealthy. Even to those who didn't speak to him as a shadow, it's clear that something is off about him, a stiffness in his demeanor, especially after his discovery of his new ability—when he stops openly gesturing and offering the physical reassurance he usually does, and pointedly keeps hands to himself.
ooc: Anything else? Hit me up at
no subject
I'll pursue it with everything I have until I succeed.
[But he's not a rabid animal who doesn't know restraint. Death is not an option until he's done, and so he has to do whatever's necessary to survive, retreating and resting so he can last long enough to see his idea of salvation achieved.
He reaches back into the safe and takes out a much more obvious article—a bag whose jingling betrays its contents. It's handled with much less care than the case, tossed next to him as he reaches in for another.]
Most people are too convinced of their own helplessness to try to break through the status quo—they might argue that their small contributions to their immediate surroundings are all they can manage. [And in many cases, that's true, he thinks.] But there are times where gathering what's needed or waiting for the right opportunity may look like nothing.