deernet | video | un: falcogrice

[ on the feed and fixing the device's angle from his lap to hold just a half an arm's length in front of him is a young boy, definitely no more than twelve, with expressive, too-tender doe eyes and a certain amount of calm as he preps to speak. he's also incredibly tiny for the furs draped over his shoulders, now falling into a slant as he brings a hand up to give a little wave. for the most part, he tries for a smile, but the only thing his lips really feel like doing is subtly curving in one direction before he can't bring them to go all the way. the sorry excuse for a smile gets masked by pressing his lips quickly together in an awkward rush. talking to a camera to record these things is always weirder than text, or speaking to people in person. ]

Um, Hi. I'm Falco, and I woke up a few days ago. It's nice to meet everyone. I have a few questions? Not about The Trench, I think I'm all caught up with what's happening. [ at least close to what everyone else seems to know, by asking around, network snooping— it's no wonder that he's spent a few days just to let the information ruminate in his head and settle in. by staring at the ceiling.

either way, he clears his throat! ]

I know some Sleepers might have been in Deerington— but does anyone remember being to other places that aren't your home? Like, different worlds. Specifically South Sister, or California. Or the year 854, if that's familiar? The second thing is . . .

[ falco doesn't say anything and instead, signs: anyone understand? ]

Just curious. [ since if everyone can understand languages . . . ] And, for last. I'm looking for priests that don't use blood for their rituals. For, ah— Exorcism rituals. [ and after an inhale as if he was about to say something more, like an explanation, he shuts up and holds his breath. instead, he starts to scribble something down on spare notebook paper, ] —I can't talk about it if everyone is listening, but if someone can help— [ and then holds up the paper, showing what he's drawn: two "S" marks, put back to back. ] I'll let you know.

[ he supposes that's it, and nods— or more like bows his head. he's beyond polite and respectable as he says: ]

Thank you for watching, and stay safe.

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[ honesty was usually the best policy falco would take, unless, of course, his life was in danger. sure the truth bummed him out, but you know what would be worse? infecting trench with ghost aids. ]

Thank you.

[ the offered help to fix a problem so big is what matters most, so as falco brings himself to the tattered couch, he's nodding, and pulls out a folded piece of parchment paper from his back pocket (he's also armed underneath his cloak with a beretta m9 holsted on one side of his hip and a knife on the other— only really seen when he bends his arms and brings the fabric out of the way). he hands the piece to dipper, scribbled on it two "S" back to back (ƧS). ]

This symbol, [ ducking his head down and exposing his neck from the bundled up hood fabric around it exposes the same brand in purple, extending even further down to his back are purple streaks born from the ƧS. ] it's The— [ it looked like he was about to say something important, like a title or name, but quickly backtracks. ] the thing's mark. It can spread around if you say its name, or through my blood.

[ so no giving out transfusions, for the time being. ]

I got it on an island called South Sister. It was the only place left in that world that wasn't completely taken over, but it was coming in through the cracks we made.

[ well, considering falco was patient zero— ]

. . . I made.

[Likewise, Dipper pulls out his journal from somewhere inside his coat. Where does he keep that thing? It's a mystery. He flips it open and starts to take notes. He's listening very carefully as Falco explains, pausing to chew on his pen a moment in thought.]

I knew a demon once, who could see anything through drawn or created depictions of himself. An eye in the center of a triangle. His name could give him power and his origins where extra-planar. He was from a dimension called the Nightmare Realm.

[The more he says it the more he finds the similarities between this thing and Bill.]

...Tell me more about this South Sister place and these "cracks". How did it um- find you.

[ just knowing that there were more of these things out there, and so many different kinds to boot, made falco feel unease in his gut. the supernatural was so much broader than anyone could imagine, even him. to think one had to be so careful was almost suffocating. he has to shift attention if he wants to focus and instead goes through his memory for an answer to combat a fraction of this. ]

How Mister Admin explained it, he was the head of the island— [ he swallows and wets his lips, making sure that he's not speaking too fast for dipper to write down, ] I'm more vulnerable than most people because I'm Eldian— I'm already connected to another dimension, "Paths". That's where our abilities come from, and . . . It found a way to breach that instead of the island's defenses.

[Infinite dimensions means infinite horrors apparently. Dipper writes all this down pretty efficiently. He's used to taking notes on the fly. "Eldian" sticks out to him so he pauses and underlines that.]

So, being Eldian means you have a natural connection to another dimension, it was able to find where the veil was thin between you and this "Path", and breached it. Now it's there to stay.

[It all makes a surprising amount of sense. Dipper taps his pen on the journal for a moment, racking his brain for where to start approaching this. It's not a standard fire-and-brimstone demon, which might have been more in line with his ghost exorcisms, but not something he's dealt with a lot. Dimensional beings, however, he has experience with, however, how to get rid of them can vary vastly depending on the nature of the demon. He remembers Bill and his motley gaggle of lackeys. The lackey's got sucked out of a whole in space-time, where Bill they had to destroy on metaphysical level. Erasing him from existence, essentially.]

Do you know if this thing has any weaknesses, anything that it reviles or recoils from?

Yes! It makes more sense, that way—

[ dipper, from the area, knows how to put it into words that felt like explaining the etiology of an illness. it made the boy hopeful, that it could be picked apart and understood better than they ever did or had time for in south sister. maybe none of them had actually come across a dimensional demon, to begin with, and had only treated it the traditional way— all red, pointy, and hailing lucifer. ]

Blessed water hurts a lot, [ falco swallows; thinking on it, he remembers the bubbly burning all as if it had happened the other day. it twists his insides around uncomfortably, but— it wasn't time to fear pain. he inhales and decides, for his and everyone's best, ] but I'll take it again, if I have to.

[ what else . . . ]

It likes to feed on negativity, and grudges— So, maybe the opposite of all that? Things that are purifying, a-and caring.

Awesome, now we're getting somewhere.

["Blessed" water hurting it was pretty interesting, and it gave Dipper some hope for a starting point. If something had a weakness, it could be exploited.]

[Dipper pats his coat down, looking for a specific pocket before he pulls out a little vial of liquid and offers it to him.]

Back home, a priest of a specific religion could purify water and it could be used to ward evil. This is basically the Trench version, from one of the Disciples of the Pale Sanctuary. I've used it in rituals and it's so far functionally the same.

[A pause.]

Don't like, drink it, but see if it has the same effect as the blessed water from where you were before.

[ to have the vial extended to him has falco swallowing back any nervousness with certain resolve that if he wanted to get rid of the thing, pain would have to come in second or third place on the list of things to be concerned with. once his hands is out and he gently takes it, he decides to right his brows and breathe in. ]

Should I use it now? [ kind of like— a test run? they shouldn’t be in danger, he thinks, especially if falco keeps his distance (which he motions to do, almost valiantly but waiting for dipper’s green light). ] Just a drop— and I’ll stay over there.

[ for security . . . for ghostbusters! for science. ]

[Oh- Oh! Dipper gets it. He gets up and stands a few steps away.]

Just a drop. If it hurts you I want it to hurt as little as possible. I just need to know if it works.

[ alright . . . just a drop. making sure he’s standing at least almost eight feet away, falco inhales, pops open the vial and steadies his occupied hand, holding his remaining hand out and under the bottle’s nozzle, knuckles facing up.

here goes, and with a nod to set their light to green, falco carefully tips it until a single bead is at the mouth of the vial. it’s clearer that he’s shaking now, but it’s just enough to shake the drop down to pelt his skin and right the vial.

instantly, it sizzles— it even makes the sound, tsssssss, like any water dropped onto a heated stove.

(okay, so maybe two or three extra drizzles fell as a result) ]

Ah—!

[ it felt like his skin was getting eaten through by acid, the way he grips the bottle in one hand and cringes, contorts his entire left side in an effort to ward off the pain. to hold his breath, his face turns red, quickly putting the bottle down to cradle an . . . actually fine limb. his fingers were perfect, the top of it unharmed, once he pulls open his fist and shakes it before having a look.

so far, nothing else happens. ]

It works it works it works—!

[ said through strain, a gasp and a cracking voice, of course. ow. it takes a while to pass, too. ]

video | un: falcogrice

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