Deer Country Network

[The device that lets him communicate with people over long distances is interesting, but Trevor's seen magic achieve something similar before.

No, what holds his attention is the several different vessels of water available in houses. He's standing in a bathroom where the shower, sink and bath all have the water running.]

...I feel like an idiot talking to myself, but if this really works.

[He looks directly at the camera and then attempts to straighten it out (it isn't) before he clears his throat.]

So citizens of this fine shithole, what do we need this much running water inside for?

The well I get-- [He points at the toilet.] But this all seems a bit much.

[ The video shakes as it comes on like it's been struck by something, and it takes a moment for the picture to orient itself in Rey's cozy bungalow. The scene before us is Rey standing in the middle of her living room with her hands on her temples as she looks helplessly around at a sea of porgs. At least 50 in her small home in a rainbow of colors, both their natural brown and black hues and absurd colors like magenta and lime.

The dismayed look on Rey's face is probably understandable in this moment. One of the porgs is her Omen, that one is a little smaller than most of the others and has wisely fled to the top of the fridge where it looks on in amusement. ]

Oh this is getting out of hand, why do I keep creating you? I'm not even trying to!

[ She looks up, dismayed, and noticed that one of the furry, feathery bodies had turned her camera on. At first the panic on her face amps up but then she presses her lips together, dropping her arms in a helpless open-palmed gesture. ]

Does anyone know how to get rid of things accidentally created with Darkblood abilities?

 ( cut for male presenting nipples  )

[ Rey looks awkward in front of the camera, this is not her natural element. She doesn't enjoy calling attention to herself, and this feels very self-indulgent, but save walking around and polling anyone she comes across this seems like the most efficient way to ask her questions. ]

Hello. For those of you who don't know me which is- probably a lot of you, my name is Rey.

[ She pauses, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip briefly as she tries to think of how to proceed. ]

I'm wondering how those of you who are used to running for your lives, or fighting every day to survive have settled here. How you found things to be useful to the community.

I was a pilot and a scavenger back home, there doesn't seem to be much call for either of those things here.

So I was just wondering how others adjusted.

Thanks.

CONTENT WARNING: psychological changes, hoarding, and obsessive behavior related to lavish desires

[ this video opens up with the blink of two eyes and a disgruntled chitter. perle is filming falco and focusing on . . . quite a mess of books in various assortments, stacked upon each other until they were in danger of tilting. among the open spines on the floors pinned with bookmarks were scrolls of paintings, sketches, statues, sepia photography— anything resembling a loving relationship, falco has seemed to have snatched it and keeps it all hostage in his little cabin home's attic like a greedy little dragon buried in precious, hoarded gold. he's pacing left, right, and has been caught mid-explanation as he works a red thread between his fingers. ]

( he rambles and an omen goes ham )

[Memory #1 - Creeper Landlord]

[Tory’s Omni flicks on, showing the courtyard of an apartment complex that’s trying to disguise how run down and in disrepair it is with some scenic plants outside.

Tory emerges from one apartment, approaching the landlord, Rodney, who’s working on a repair. He appears to be in his late forties, average sized, with a build that reflects he’s no stranger to physical labour. ”Hey, you haven’t fixed the leak yet” He continues working for the moment, replying “And you haven’t paid rent. See how that works?” Tory nods, giving her assurances that she’ll pay. ”Yeah, I’ll have it to you by next week. I’m already working doubles.”

As he works, Rodney remarks, “Last month it was some excuse about your mom’s diabetes…” ”-Dialysis-” Tory replies, quickly and emphatically correcting him. He responds with shrugging indifference before finally stopping and facing Tory. “Same diff. It’s not my job to keep track of your excuses. My job is to cash rent cheques. If I can’t do my job, then you can’t live here.” Worry etches itself onto Tory’s face. “Don’t do that. My mom, she’s…”

Rodney shakes his head. “That caretaker thing is the only reason you’re not in juvie.” Tory looks surprised, and he simply nods. “Yeah, I heard about that cat fight that got you expelled.” ”You don’t know anything about that,” Tory answers irritably. Rodney shrugs again. “I know if I had some mud and an inflatable pool, I could have sold tickets. That boy you two fought over would have sat front and center.” ”Don’t talk about him.” Tory warns.

“Boys.” The landlord smiles, stepping right into Tory’s personal space, looking her up and down. “See, now if you had a man instead of a boy, maybe things would be easier. You wouldn’t have to worry about rent.” He reaches up to touch her hair and stroke her face, and in an instant, Tory seizes him, bending him backward into a submission hold. ”Bet you wouldn’t sound like a man if I broke your wrist!”

“Mm-mm. I wouldn’t do that.” The hold clearly hurts, but despite the pain, Rodney remains arrogant, smiling cockily at her. “What would your probation officer say?” Tory pauses for a moment before letting him go and shoving him away from her. “Think on what I said,” Rodney says, starting to turn to leave. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight, but if I don’t, I’d better see you with a cheque on the first.” He makes a claw gesture and a mocking cat meow before walking away laughing loudly. Tory glares, frustrated, then takes her anger out on the nearby drain pipe with a kick hard enough to dent it.]



[Memory #2 - Callous Aunt]

[Tory is out walking along the sidewalk of a strip mall wearing a tank top and leggings when a familiar voice remarks, “You’re a hard girl to find.” She finds herself facing her aunt who is giving her an accusational look. “Avoiding your Auntie Kandice now, sweetheart? Ignoring my calls?”

Tory doesn’t bother denying it. “Yeah. What do you want?” Her aunt replies with fake cheer, “To see you, of course!” only to look off to the side and add, “...and to ask if my sister’s disability payment came in yet.” Tory is visibly annoyed at the admission, but not surprised. ”What, need funding for another scam? That money’s for us.” Kandice attempts to guilt trip Tory. “Come on, my sister promised to always take care of me. She taught you better.”

“She taught me how to recognize a low class leech,” Tory retorts, her disgust for her aunt’s selfishness and greed apparent. Kandice’s expression turns to a glare as she speaks sternly to Tory. “Mind your manners! When your mom kicks the bucket–” she cuts off as Tory tosses her bag down and gets into her aunt’s face.

“Oooh, quick temper,” Kandice remarks. “Just like your old man.” She takes her breath and makes her tone a little more polite before speaking again. “When your mother passes…gracefully. Then what? You think your daddy’s going to just show up out of the blue?” Kandice points at herself. “I’m all you’ve got.”

Tory scowls, backing up. “You don’t give a shit about us. You just want her survivor benefits.” Her aunt has objections, protesting “I was at little Bobby’s fourth birthday party just last year.” Tory is quick to point out that her aunt Kandice just proved correct. ”-Brandon- is eight. And next year, I’ll be eighteen.”

Tory begins to walk away before her aunt grabs her arm. “Hey. Who do you think’s going to win a custody battle? You’re a high school dropout and a criminal.” ”So are you,” Tory replies, trying to put on a confident facade but not quite succeeding. “Yeah, but I know how to play the game. A judge is going to take one look at you and laugh you straight outta court.” Cruelly mocking, she adds, “See you at the funeral, sweetheart. Tick tock”, leaving Tory angry and worried.]



[Memory #3 - Victory]

[The final scene unfolds at a tournament. Some Trench residents watching this unintentional broadcast might recognize Terry Silver. There’s another old man standing beside him in the same black gi, John Kreese. Tory is facing both of them.

“Let her do what she wants. You’ve come this far. This is your fight now. So whatever happens, it’s up to you.” Tory nods and bows before her match resumes.

The match is a tense one - both because it’s the tournament finals, and because of her history with her opponent. She and Sam have disliked one another since the day they met, and their rivalry only escalated from there. Even a few months ago, Tory might not have cared about fighting fair. But now? She’s careful to stay within sight of the brunette’s uninjured eye. It’s Tory’s way of trying to fight fairly, since she’d accidentally elbowed Sam when grappling earlier in the match. Tory wants an honorable win.

The two girls exchange blows until Tory drops low and lands a clean hit in Sam’s midsection, knocking her to the floor. “Point! Winner,” the referee declares. Despite her past grudge, Tory is visibly concerned for the other girl. ”Hey, are you okay?”

Sam looks confused at the question, uncomprehending of why Tory of all people would ask her that. Before Tory can say anything more, the referee takes her wrist and holds her arm up, declaring her the All Valley female champion, and that Cobra Kai has won the All Valley championship. Her fellow Cobra Kai students, all in black and gold karate gis, all swoop in to hug her and lift her up.

“What a match!” the tournament’s announcer declares enthusiastically. “Whaaaat a match! Give it up for your first female champion, Tory Nichols!”]

-------

[Upon realizing that her Omni has been broadcasting, Tory makes a sound of annoyance.]

Ugh. Looks like it's my turn for this bullshit.

[Her hand reaches out and hastily shuts the Omni off.]