Simon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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bottlecaplogs2026-04-15 10:16 pm
i_can_read) wrote in bottlecaplogs2026-04-15 10:16 pm
Entry tags:
Simon in April
Who: Simon and YOU.
What: Catch-all and specific top levels,
Where: Around,
When: All of April
Warnings: Horror genre references, body horror specifically, cult/religious trauma, dissociation and emotional issues, so much swearing, etc. Just Simon Things (TM)
A. Yeah my heart it spoke, and the stars replied -> OTA
Simon is easy to find on clear nights. He drops his shields for as long as possible--as long as he dares, because how long? is a question that dogs him, haunts him, taunts him, fills him with fear and forces the stones around him to close up once more--and floats or lies in the grass or rests in the fork of a tree, bathing the nearby area in a red glow.
What's he doing?
Looking at the sky. Specifically, he's looking at the stars--all the many hundreds of thousands of them, spread across the abyssal vault of heaven. Large ones, small ones. Shimmering curtains and waves, clustered scores of speckles barely distinct from one another. And bold, shining monuments to light, standing apart from any neighbouring gleam. He stares up into them with his own swirling pools of light--the pools of light that are his eyes--their radius so large and wide-armed that they almost evoke the galaxies above.
Small, pale, imitations of the miracle that dwarfs him. A tiny, feeble imitation in the lush world below. A world vibrant and verdant with life.
It almost--
It almost.... makes him feel like he was meant to. Like God is real. Like--like maybe this is what God is. This is God, or God's doing. But then, what is he doing here? What is he, Simon, doing? Here? What is he? What's it for? Why? Why--why is he, Simon, here, why him? And for what?
So it's not always a peaceful moment.
Sometimes it is, sometimes the wonder of it all eclipses the grief, the fear and confusion.
But sometimes... sometimes there are sounds. Quiet, muffled sounds. Like he might be... crying?
Don't worry, though--he'll stop the very instant he hears anyone coming. And his voice--sharp with paranoia and danger, or coarse with emotion and suspicion.
"Who's there?"
B. Plant Your Hope With Good Seeds -> Closed to Henry and Parvati
Despite a not-very edifying (or perhaps too edifying?) conversation with Umemiya, Simon is nonetheless undeterred. He's interested in the garden, and he wants...
He wants to do that. He wants to garden. Just a little. He doesn't know how, what with the utter lack of hands... or legs... or any way to carry or dig or bury or plant. He wants it so badly. It's like an ache--or a burn. A compulsion, an impulse, something nudging at the back of his mind.
He's been thinking about it, sitting there in the grass and under the canopy of nearby trees. Sealed up inside his shields, where he can see only darkness and hear the world only dimly. Protected. Encased and isolated, sheltered and solitary. Safe.
Ha. Safe isn't real. But it feels safer.
Bwcause if he stays in there, encapsulated by the darkness and the security of his rock shield, it feels like.... well, like the submarine. And when it feels like the submarine, it becomes easy to defy gravity.
The downside, of course, is that he can no longer even feel vibrations through the ground. And this leaves him completely unaware of anyone walking by.
But that's fine, right? It's not like he's going to drop his shields and scare the bejeezus out of anyone all of a sudden--
Or so he (doesn't) think, dropping his shields suddenly right as someone walks by.
C. Training wheels fell off -> OTA
[Simon still spends most days rolling around, opening his shields to look around and then closing them to follow his planned path.
Or else he's in the air--flying with his shields up like the world's most dangerous aircraft. Because he still navigates the exact same way he did back in the submarine, with the camera. He recognises the irony, but it's... kind of comforting, weirdly. It gives him something to do. And every time he opens his shields, he has a new vantage, a new vista to take in.
It's an experience that never gets old. High or low, terrestrial or aerial.
He just.... he doesn't have the best control while flying, so..... um. Possibly he falls. With luck, it's merely nearby. But sometimes he falls directly onto someone. Or onto a building, or onto someone's current project.
It's a work in progress, okay?]
D. Wildcard!
[Drop me a line at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
railerat or just throw something at me here and I'll figure it out!]
What: Catch-all and specific top levels,
Where: Around,
When: All of April
Warnings: Horror genre references, body horror specifically, cult/religious trauma, dissociation and emotional issues, so much swearing, etc. Just Simon Things (TM)
A. Yeah my heart it spoke, and the stars replied -> OTA
Simon is easy to find on clear nights. He drops his shields for as long as possible--as long as he dares, because how long? is a question that dogs him, haunts him, taunts him, fills him with fear and forces the stones around him to close up once more--and floats or lies in the grass or rests in the fork of a tree, bathing the nearby area in a red glow.
What's he doing?
Looking at the sky. Specifically, he's looking at the stars--all the many hundreds of thousands of them, spread across the abyssal vault of heaven. Large ones, small ones. Shimmering curtains and waves, clustered scores of speckles barely distinct from one another. And bold, shining monuments to light, standing apart from any neighbouring gleam. He stares up into them with his own swirling pools of light--the pools of light that are his eyes--their radius so large and wide-armed that they almost evoke the galaxies above.
Small, pale, imitations of the miracle that dwarfs him. A tiny, feeble imitation in the lush world below. A world vibrant and verdant with life.
It almost--
It almost.... makes him feel like he was meant to. Like God is real. Like--like maybe this is what God is. This is God, or God's doing. But then, what is he doing here? What is he, Simon, doing? Here? What is he? What's it for? Why? Why--why is he, Simon, here, why him? And for what?
So it's not always a peaceful moment.
Sometimes it is, sometimes the wonder of it all eclipses the grief, the fear and confusion.
But sometimes... sometimes there are sounds. Quiet, muffled sounds. Like he might be... crying?
Don't worry, though--he'll stop the very instant he hears anyone coming. And his voice--sharp with paranoia and danger, or coarse with emotion and suspicion.
"Who's there?"
B. Plant Your Hope With Good Seeds -> Closed to Henry and Parvati
Despite a not-very edifying (or perhaps too edifying?) conversation with Umemiya, Simon is nonetheless undeterred. He's interested in the garden, and he wants...
He wants to do that. He wants to garden. Just a little. He doesn't know how, what with the utter lack of hands... or legs... or any way to carry or dig or bury or plant. He wants it so badly. It's like an ache--or a burn. A compulsion, an impulse, something nudging at the back of his mind.
He's been thinking about it, sitting there in the grass and under the canopy of nearby trees. Sealed up inside his shields, where he can see only darkness and hear the world only dimly. Protected. Encased and isolated, sheltered and solitary. Safe.
Ha. Safe isn't real. But it feels safer.
Bwcause if he stays in there, encapsulated by the darkness and the security of his rock shield, it feels like.... well, like the submarine. And when it feels like the submarine, it becomes easy to defy gravity.
The downside, of course, is that he can no longer even feel vibrations through the ground. And this leaves him completely unaware of anyone walking by.
But that's fine, right? It's not like he's going to drop his shields and scare the bejeezus out of anyone all of a sudden--
Or so he (doesn't) think, dropping his shields suddenly right as someone walks by.
C. Training wheels fell off -> OTA
[Simon still spends most days rolling around, opening his shields to look around and then closing them to follow his planned path.
Or else he's in the air--flying with his shields up like the world's most dangerous aircraft. Because he still navigates the exact same way he did back in the submarine, with the camera. He recognises the irony, but it's... kind of comforting, weirdly. It gives him something to do. And every time he opens his shields, he has a new vantage, a new vista to take in.
It's an experience that never gets old. High or low, terrestrial or aerial.
He just.... he doesn't have the best control while flying, so..... um. Possibly he falls. With luck, it's merely nearby. But sometimes he falls directly onto someone. Or onto a building, or onto someone's current project.
It's a work in progress, okay?]
D. Wildcard!
[Drop me a line at
no subject
(Man, if Simon was mad about the excess wood, he's going to blow a fuse when he inevitably gets lost in the forest).In contrast to Simon, Anasui knows precisely what he's doing. Construction was so similar to deconstruction and modification - Anasui was in his element. In his mind's eye, he's already planned out the walkway around the assigned markers, and all he has to do is put everything back together. As he walks, Anasui sorts the lumber by height and weight, and by the time he's at the start of the proposed walkway, all the material is ready to go. Anasui gently releases the planks onto the ground and starts building.
Despite having only a fraction of the grip he had on his psychic powers compared to his mastery of his Stand (and having no hands), Anasui is still incredibly fast when it came to putting things together. Not caring whether or not Simon had his own plans for the walkway, Anasui starts laying down the planks with his psychic abilities, then ties them tight with a combination of his talons and his mouth. It's simple but elegant; stylish, precise and, most importantly, functional. Plus, it would be extra secure after he started nailing and/or gluing it together. He hadn't decided yet.
... Admittedly, it's entirely possible that because he's so wrapped up in the rhythm of building, Anasui's forgotten Simon was supposed to be working with him. Scratch that, he's definitely forgotten.
no subject
As the stones pull towards Simon, his shields rise around him. It is again not a conscious decision. And yet it makes perfect sense as mere moments later, the pieces of his stone shell close over him and the hewn rocks encircle the sphere of his form.... almost as though in orbit.
"Fuck! Yes!"
Of course, this means he can no longer see. But that's actually for the best--navigating the forest visually would be almost impossible for Simon. He didn't see the route to this storage, for one. For two, the sheer density and diversity of the forest still overwhelms him often and easily. And the amount of focus and direction required to keep his control over all of this is immense. He doesn't have teeth to grit or a jaw to set, but if he did, he'd be baring his teeth, his eyes ablaze with determination.
He's all too aware that he has no time--or energy--to waste. He's in a race with not only Anasui, but his own limits.
So he says nothintg to Spinarak, and he definitely doesn't bother to make sure he didn't make a huge mess before he leaves. The way he remembers the path is in distance via time, by degrees turned with rotational direction reversed. A spatial puzzle performed blind. No point in checking his work--again, he wouldn't know what to look for--but even if he tried, it would only distract him. Every single second he holds onto this, the difficulty grows.
He has to trust his memory.
There's a touch of dark irony to that. But unlike the passage of time or the tenuous gradients of reality, this is the kind of thing his brain does hang onto.
And so it is that Simon arrives at the site of Anasui's ongoing construction--late, but triumphant, floating two metres off the ground and surrounded by multiple concentric rings of precut stone.
Stone that he releases from his power all at once, and which hit the ground with enough gravity-induced power to force a small local tremor of the earth.
WHMMM-DDD--
no subject
Simon is a lot stronger than he looks - that much is clear, and Anasui takes a moment to note the man's abilities. Gravitational forces. Mastery of rocks and weighted, balanced flying. It's different from a levitating Solrock or Lunatone but just as fascinating.
(The fact Simon's powers seem more gravitational than psychic in nature twists more uncomfortably in Anasui's stomach than he'd ever admit).
Eventually, Anasui leans over and looks at a few of the rocks. After a moment of perusing, he uses his psychic powers to levitate one over.
"Convenient. This one will do nicely," he says, going back to work.