just a husk
@brokenhusk.bsky.social
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I'm glad one of us can learn to.
.. I know.

I've wanted to .. claw my own eyes out, before.

It's a terrible reminder ..

(He remains silent again.)
We're not too different in that regard.

I've been tempered before.

It's these damned eyes.
Theo's... assault..

Yes you were.. you were there for that, weren't you.

(His head feels fuzzy.. light. The mention of it sends him back to that day, for a moment. Even if he wasn't close like Hershel was.)

.. Descole gets... carried away. He throws away his personhood. But so did I.
It .. did not. Descole was always my protector, since I was little.

We grew apart after my family was killed. I no longer wanted to live. So he lived in my stead.

(Desmond clung to his arms, holding them tightly.)

What.. about you?
Yes ..

Unfortunately I can't remember either.. but, my memory is very fragmented regardless. Stream or not.
It's good to see you too.

(Desmond looks towards the two, they seem to have exhausted themselves again.)

Descole seemed very... defeated. Whatever happened must've been stressful.
(He nods slowly.)

That is still my name, even if it rarely gets used anymore.
(After clearing his eyes, he’s able to look up and acknowledge Hershel better.)

You look.. and sound like me...

.. Oh, right .. of course ... the haze is clearing up again.

Hello, Hershel.
.. Sorry, I don't recall.

(Slowly raising his head, he quickly noticed the ichor dripping from his eyes, and tried wiping it away.)

Ah.. this hurts..
(There's no response for a long while. Just shaky breaths.)
There's... nothing left.. for me.. they're all.. gone...

(Descole lets out a raspy laugh, then hangs their head.)

Typical.. I am a curse.
(Their skin prickled. It wasn't human anymore, but static. Enough to likely shock Hershel by accident.)

Don't... touch me...
(Holding their head in their hands, they did not respond.)
...

.....

(Leaning forward, they breathe heavily for a few minutes and sound as almost they're going to spill blood and bile. More ichor drips out of their eyes, onto the floor.)

I can't see them anymore. The wound is too much.

... Are they home?
Dead? Oh no, not dead. I'll wish I was dead.

It's changing me again, I can feel it.
It's.. fine. This is nothing. Absolutely nothing, when you compare it to the Sanctuary.

(Descole wipes the ichor from his cheeks. They grimace when they lift their head to look at him.)

If that similarity remains, then you know the pain I'm speaking of.

It can continue dining for all I care.
Just give me a moment of rest, and I can get Marshall back! I can locate the girl and Nimbus while I'm—!

(Groaning, Descole leans forward and covers their face again.)

Fucking——goddamn sensitive eyes...
Well, as I've been trying to tell you, the young one was affected first.

In simple terms, he and I are the same person.

I don't recall how long I was in there as a child. This is a reopen wound, in a way. Trying to manipulate the Stream again takes its toll.

But I'll continue, for Marshall.
Why don't you take a guess.

(Descole lifts themself up, sitting up on the couch. The towel from his eyes falls down, revealing nothing but pitch black, leaking iridescent ichor.

Under the sleeve he pulls down, there are static, wisping scars that pulsate his entire arm.)
Good God. What do you THINK I've been doing, Layton?

I've been speaking to him since before you found me in the Stream—and I've been *trying* to get myself in there.
It's not quite a moment he forgot. Very well.

(Shaking his head, he lets out another sigh.)

Yes, the younger Hershel. He's usually a feline while he's trapped in the Stream.

He is.. us.
Hah!! That's rather unfortunate, isn't it? I'm surprised the young one hasn't shown himself yet.

I'm referring this one—

(Lifting their hand, they pointed correctly towards the fae, even without looking.)

Unless you've forgotten him and your trip to the Stream.