[Backdated to 9/9] @silent | open

[callada]

IMPORTANT: I need someone with medical training to meet me at the shoreline near the river. I've found what looks to be my own dead body.

Please hurry.

[Attached is a photo, lit dimly by his lantern, of what does indeed look like his recognizeable corpse floating in the water, hooked through the cheek and attached to a discarded fishing pole lying some feet away on the pebbles.

This is of course in reference to this exploration thread.]

Comments

[saibot]

I imagine it was dumped due to being a failure.

[This is both him just making an assumption and throwing shade.]

[callada]

Should be dead. Looks dead. Except for the eyes moving. And I think the makeup is moving too. Not just washing off but changing.

[callada]

Guess that's what death is in a nutshell.

[callada]

[Straight to the gut. Sure, he's got a brother. Not a twin, but change up the hair and they do look uncannily similar. Said brother is the reason he's here with some new gunshot scars to add to his collection. So the thought adds a nice extra layer of discomfort to the ashen look on his face as he watches his horrible dead clone that seems to be watching him back.

He's sitting on the beach when Peter arrives, head in a cloud of cigarette smoke. He has retrieved the makeshift pole and it sits at his side, with the body dragged out of the water and lying bloated on the beach.]

If I did, it'd be a real shame to meet him here like this.

[The only relief is that Peter does, apparently, see the body. So it's really there. It's not just him.]

Twenty minutes ago, it had green eyeshadow.

[None now. Did it wash off somehow while sitting beached?]

[paletteswap]

Has anyone come to assist? Should I come find you? That doesn't sound like it's something you should be alone with.

[callada]

Had a couple people say they'll be here soon. But if you want to come, I won't stop you.

[saibot]

Failure? For you? I do not doubt that to be true.

[pearlstrings]

Interesting.

Do the pupils respond to light or movement?

[callada]

[Ah, so Aziraphale hadn't heard about that yet, then - the lanterns being their soul, their life force, whatever one wants to call it. Well, he can explain more but for now the more immediate concern is the body.]

If you were a doctor, I'd say go ahead. But I might as well. Just be ready in case it reacts.

[He does have the basics down, after all. Has to, on account of taking solo field missions. So he crouches beside the body again and tries not to notice how it watches him; how without moving its head, those reddish eyes swivel in their sockets.

Touching the corpse is just about the worst thing ever, but he checks the cold neck for a pulse and finds none, then decides it's probably easier to slice through the shirt than try to remove it any other way. It's a good thing he'd brought a knife, hoping he'd have a fish to gut. Slicing through the wet fabric reveals an array of scars - stitched cuts, gunshot wounds, an old burn here and there. A brighter pink scar than the rest where a knife plunged into his back below his left shoulder.

It probably looks awful but he knows all of these old injuries, and shakes his head as the thing begins to smile wider.]

Maybe the front? Help me roll it over.

[callada]

Yes. It's not random, it's watching me specifically.

[lunchbreaks]

--Yes, yes of course.

[ He watches on, interested, seemingly undisturbed by all of this, and moves to help him do the rolling over bit. He is a very large person, but Aziraphale is mostly taking his time just because he'd like to be gentle with his arms and legs, and not destroy them more than the water had already done. ]

Will you want for it to be buried? When we are done here.

[ Out of respect for his body, you know. ]

[callada]

I guess so. I'd say burned, but fire doesn't work well here.

[Cremation just seems appropriate. No point going through all the work of digging a grave. He's still alive, after all. He's right here. Right? It's life in some sense of the word, anyway.

With the body now on its back, he kneels back down and briefly locks eyes with the staring, grinning dead face and its ruined makeup. It changed again, he notices - orange and yellow streak down one cheek and drip to the sides, and smudged magenta stains its lips. Remnants of exactly what he's wearing now, as if it's trying to become a more perfect but drowned copy. He shudders and tears his gaze away to instead strip the remainder of the shirt away, but there's no wound fresher than the usual network of scars.]

I don't know why I'm looking. If this is somehow a previous copy of my body from when I died earlier, there wouldn't be much to see. Just a few scrapes here and there.

[He reaches for one of its hands, looking to see if the palm is scuffed from his fall on the rocks. The grin splits wider. The belly begins to bloat.]

[pearlstrings]

[On a scale of 1-please don't, how weird is it to ask a stranger if you can come see their dead body...]


You and only you?

I assume assistance is on it's way, if it hasn't reached you already.

[paletteswap]

I'll be there shortly, it doesn't seem wise to be alone with whatever that is.

[callada]

Sure

[While he doesn't feel unsafe, he welcomes anyone who wants to come figure out what it really is. If it wasn't for the little changes here and there to the makeup, and the clear fact that it's watching him, he would assume it's his previous body, and that on revival he was somehow given a new one. That perhaps the forest spirits had tossed this one into the water.

Which is not ideal but neither is this entire place so when Kuai finds him, he'll just be sitting on the beach with a cigarette, his lantern, and the corpse, still half in the water, its legs swaying with the movement of the lake. It does not look at Kuai as he walks up, as it is seemingly intent on watching Rosinante only.]

[callada]

[There's a delay. Assistance has indeed reached him, and it keeps him occupied a while.]

Only me, while it was here. It's gone now. Turned into foam and drained back into the lake.

[paletteswap]

[That definitely looks like a very dead Rosinante.]

That is even more horrifying seeing it in person.

[He's trying to rationalize this corpse of someone he's talking to, his train of thought somewhat following Rosinante's.]

Could it be because you died previously? There is a... copy of you somehow?

[callada]

I wondered that too. Like this is a discarded body from that death, or maybe my original body. It's not completely dead, but who knows how death works here. We're all dead already, technically. Watch, though.

[He adjusts the lantern to better highlight the body's face. It doesn't seem to react to the light - no shrinking pupils or blinking eyes, though its gaze tracks his hand as it moves. But slowly, ever so slowly, the pattern of makeup on the face changes. It's smudged and runny, making the eyes look more horrible with the remnants of black eyeliner circling them, but the colors elsewhere shift, gold to blue to purple over long stretches of seconds, and the design changes too - never crisp and clear as if freshly applied, but it still manages to hint at starbursts and hearts and irregular patterns of spots.]

If it's a discarded body, why would the makeup change like it's alive too?

[Hopefully Kuai can at least confirm he's not imagining that part.]

[paletteswap]

It's looking at you.

[ Which is far more disturbing than the makeup. How can it be looking at him if it's dead? Unless it isn't.]

Have you tried talking to it? Maybe it's a forest spirit that can shapeshift and is trying to imitate you?

[In which case it might parrot back whatever Rosinante says. He's not sure if that's better or worse than a duplicate corpse. Probably worse because they'd have to be on alert to make sure the people they were speaking to weren't spirits in disguise.]

[callada]

[More viscerally disturbing, he'd certainly agree. He's trying to ignore the way those dead eyes follow his movements. Something about the suggestion of talking to it makes him visibly cringe, speaking of disturbing.]

What would I even say to it? "Hello"?

[He doesn't even like looking at it in the first place, but it's not a bad suggestion. As if bracing himself for something far worse than a slightly undead corpse, he swallows, then gives it a shot.]

What are you?

[Maybe that's too rhetorical. Too accusatory. Either way, it doesn't reply, but it does grin a little wider.]

[lunchbreaks]

[ Oh yes, that's very grotesque. Aziraphale frowns and then he goes to find some piece of torn cloth to cover his face with. He just doesn't want Rosinante to have to endure watching his own deceased face doing this. ]

Perhaps we should call it, then.

And I'm sure we could still cremate the body if you wish; the heat from fire seems to be just fine.

[ And he may or may not periodically check if his powers will work. ]

[pearlstrings]

[Damn.]

I don't suppose anyone managed to take a sample.

[callada]

[That's certainly appreciated as a gesture. Both of them get to then miss the corners of the mouth as they continue to split through the cheeks, bisecting the face along the jaw. Nobody needs to see that many teeth all at once.]

And carry it all the way to the bonfire? Yeah, we could probably manage that.

[He glances over his shoulder toward the town center in the distance. It's a fair walk, but not impossible with help. Maybe they could beg a torch off Rastus instead, though that might not be enough flame to get very far with.

When he looks back, it's clear the corpse is rapidly inflating now. As he tries to stand and back away, his heel catches on the stony beach and sends him sprawling backward. So much for getting away from whatever the hell is going on -

And what is going on is that the body quickly swells like a bubble blanketed in scarred, stretched skin, though the arms are caught in the remains of its clothing. That hideous split face is visible briefly as the chest grows and dislodges the torn fabric, at which point, again like a bubble, the entire body bursts. Rather than gore, they are showered in a spray of seafoam. And as Rosinante swipes at it and groans in disgust, trying to get it off his face, the foam itself slips off of its own will and it all rejoins into a mass which shrinks back into the lake.]

[callada]

Didn't think of it. Seemed like it all wanted to rejoin itself after. My clothes aren't even wet.

Might be worth it if someone else tries to do some fishing.

[pearlstrings]

Do you think it's possible that a spirit was responsible?

Have they been known to change forms like this before?