video | un: falcogrice

[grice]

[ 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.

Comments

[ghostharasser]

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.

[grice]

[ 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. ]

[ghostharasser]

[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.

[grice]

[ 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. ]