erisunburied

[erisunburied]

Location: Potions and Pentacle

For: Anyone (0/2)

Eris was always trying to find some way to deal with the headaches and dizziness that always seemed to plague him. He knew what was causing them: stress. His body didn't want to let go of the fear that'd crawled inside him when he'd been buried alive. He wasn't as bad as he'd been. Going into fight or flight and blacking out when anyone touched him. Needing to numb himself so he could sleep. Teetering between consuming panic and feeling hollow.

He was used to the weekly migraines now. He just wished there was something he could do for them. Weed, painkillers, and anti nausea medication sometimes helped. But he had to stay in bed with all the lights off in silence. He was used to the pain, to a certain level. But he wished sometimes that he'd find a solution that didn't involve dropping everything and lying in bed for two days. It was boring just waiting for it to pass.

He was browsing the store, staring at labels without understanding the words. He'd never been big on reading. He was squinting at the label without understanding anything. His distraction made him bump into someone.

"Shit, sorry." He said. "I didn't see you there."

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Eris always enjoyed the quiet of libraries and bookshops. It felt peaceful. He'd never read much. Letters seemed to swim off the pages and twist into something else. But he liked it when people would read to him. It was nice these days: almost every book had an audio format. But the smell of old paper was hard to beat. He came in when he had a day off to get away from the noise and the heat of his job. The low light helped to salve the achiness in his head.

Today, the cashier seemed distracted. Sad, if Eris was right. Eris hadn't met him before. He'd only been in town for a month or two, and his free time was spent unpacking, working, and fighting the exhaustion that clung to him relentlessly. He hesitated for a minute, torn between giving him privacy and trying to offer some amount of comfort. He could at least offer to listen.

"You feeling okay?"

who: liam & open [0/5] where: aphelion books

liam  felt  like  his  world  was  spinning  out  of  orbit.  ever  since  he  and  cal  had  received  the  call  about  what  had  happened  they  had  packed  up  their  cottage  and  rushed  back  home.  the  whole  town  was  in  a  state  of  shock  ,  with  whispers  traveling  through  the  streets  faster  than  rumours  usually  did.  people  wanted  answers  ,  but  the  council  was  unusually  quiet.  all  of  portum  seemed  as  if  they  were  blanketed  by  a  thick  fog. liam  didn't  know  why  he  showed  up  at  work.  he  had  been  ,  quite  frankly  ,  a  wreck  ever  since  he  returned  and  heard  about  the  body  ...  and  what  it  was.  it  nearly  made  him  sick  just  thinking  about  it.  the  idea  of  cal  maybe  being  the  victim  instead  of  the  stranger  ...  a  small  noise  in  front  of  him  pulled  him  out  of  his  thoughts.  right  ,  he  was  at  work.  "uh  ,  sorry  ,"  he  replied  ,  eye  slowly  focusing  on  the  person  in  front  of  him.  "did  ...  you  need  help  ?"

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"Get out while you still can." Eris said. He'd done exactly what this worker was doing back when he'd worked as a mechanic. Just snuck out without a word. He was a bad mechanic and worse at showing up. He didn't know how he'd kept the job for so long. "I'll vouch for you. You look really sick. You should get home while you still can."

He shot her something close to a smile from his place leaning against the wall, a cigarette lit between his fingers. "You got somewhere fun to be?"

location: the golden piston for whom: open to all

as much as cat loved cars, today had been fucking long. she would often take time to work on her own cars, not telling her boss the free labor she was providing herself, but today the shop was packed. filled mostly with cars that filled her with envy. nice cars that went fast. and they were too busy for her to take one out for a spin. as she wiped the grease from her hands with an old rag she found hanging around the place, she looked over to your muse, " now that you're here, please tell me you're not gonna tattle if i just dip. today fucking blew , " she looked over with pleading eyes, " i'll owe you one, " she said, her voice light and sing-song-y.

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(   Christian Yu  .  Cis man  .  He/him  )       —       blasting HATRIÐ MUN SIGRA  by  Hatari  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  ERIS MERGO  sporting  their glass eye ring.  the  130  year  old  DEMON  who’s  been  in  town  for  a few months  often  can  be  seen visiting bars, working on his car, and hanging around the tattoo parlor,  or  working  as  a COOK at  ROSIE’S DINER.  people  say  they  display  loyalty  and  guardedness,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes: Black shirt unbuttoned to his chest with the sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos (don’t worry about the number of upside down crosses he has on his skin), his black eyes weighty, his thick hair down to his neck, a lit cigarette in his hand: his shallow impression of what a demon looks like. Don’t look too close, or he might dissolve away; A (slightly mocking, mostly sincere) picture of someone he knew: an angel before their fall, all in soft gold and brown, his skin glowing, his hair neatly out of his face. Still haggard even though it’s his best try at being beautiful; Pain in every movement and breath. A heavy gait, dull or panicky eyes, hands that shake just slightly. He avoids the dark an unusual amount for a demon. Buried alive and now come into the light once more. It’s hard to pick up the pieces of himself when he’s nothing but shattered glass. also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  PLAYING THE BASS!   aren’t  they  fascinating ?

Everything before the fight is a little spotty. He doesn’t remember if it was an angel or a slayer who hurt him. He doesn’t remember what they were fighting about. All he remembers is the way he woke up in a coffin underground. No matter how he scraped and scratched at the lid, he couldn’t break it open. He slept on and off. Had periods of panic and moments where he could block out the fear of being trapped in the suffocating darkness.  

Eris was unburied eventually by a police dog on a search for a missing person. He fled before the men could ask him any questions. He doesn’t know how long he was there. Just that the world was very different when he emerged. Hills and grass changed the cemetery grounds into a strange echo. 

He tried to pick up the life he had before, from the bare scraps of memory that remained. But without the people, it felt hollow and meaningless. His friends had either died or moved. He wasn’t the same either. He used to be a demon. He picked fights, got drunk and high, stole, threatened, and probably a lot worse. The dark felt like his home before. Now, it felt terrifying. 

Eris spent a lot of the past 20 years in a frigid sort of panic. The kind that looks like silence and lying around listening to his own heartbeat. Wondering if every person he saw was going to hurt him. Claustrophobic nightmares. Going into fight or flight whenever he brushed past someone. Drinking to numb himself to sleep. 

A month before Eris moved, he started to have horrible migraines. He got dizzy going up and down the stairs to his apartment. He thought he was imagining it until he passed out in his kitchen. His doctor didn’t have any idea about why. There was nothing wrong. Just an unreal level of stress. Eris decided he should move somewhere else. The misty town of Portum sounded nice compared to the city he’d been living in. He’d been in one place too long. He quit his job as a mechanic and moved. 

All that panic took a toll on him. His joints get achy and painful from stress of any kind. Strong emotions, walking, and even talking will give him migraines. He still has nightmares. Unexpected touch makes him uneasy. He’s not as bad as he was about having people around, but that doesn’t mean he’s good. 

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