comfypillow: (pic#17776395)
𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑦. ([personal profile] comfypillow) wrote in [community profile] peacockstop 2025-05-19 11:56 pm (UTC)

3 b/a combo!? Grabs this bird

[ The man beneath Getian’s hover is tall, for a human, with hair the color of sunlight drawn back into a patterned headband. Colorful robes adorned with exquisite feathers and beads sway in the breeze, tinkling lightly as they knock together. It’s an article that had reminded Quincy of the tribe and the ceremonial robes they wore on ceremonial days—seeing him emote for a second upon finding it, the costuming staff had shoved him straight into it. This, at least, he doesn’t mind, finding small comfort in the familiarity of this style of clothing and the apparent freedom of the set’s forest. It’s all fake, he knows, but the rough bark beneath his palms and the mountain’s crisp air in his lungs are enough for now.

The crew hadn’t expected their tribesman to vanish between takes. Quincy had slipped away at the earliest opportunity, adept at moving silently through the forest, even though this forest is not the one he’s guarded for many years. He knows how to read the stones and moss, how to judge the trees that grow here, and how to move as respectfully through the brush as possible. He has nothing but the utmost respect for nature—it’s in his blood, his traditions, his character—so he is reluctant to startle anything that does not need to be startled. That respect extends to the creatures of the forest: he looks up at the shadow overhead before offering a polite nod in greeting.

Yokai of the forest are not surprising to him. He has know them for a long time; an old bird isn’t much different from an old fox, if potentially less mischievous by nature. ]


I see. [ he gazes down the pathway that Getian is referring to, quiet for a moment before speaking, ] Is the other way the same?

[ He turns his gentle gaze back to the bird’s figure, resting a hand against the trunk of a large tree. Pale lips move, about to say something else, when in the far off distance the echo of some of the crew searching for Quincy drifts. They aren’t especially close, but those of the forest know how to listen for upset—and the crew members traipsing through aren’t graceful as they swat their way through bushes and groan about having to come off the beaten path.

Ugh, why did he leave set… John, stop slowing down, you just slipped in mud, it isn’t like you slipped in shit. Deb, he wasn’t the only actor that’s gone missing either, right? Maybe a few got lost out here. Let’s bring anyone we find back, or else they’ll be a wandering out here for hours. Ugh… what did I step in now? I’m not paid enough for this job…

Quincy’s eyes narrow in the direction of the noise before he turns his attention back onto the bird above. ]


Don’t let them find you. They’ll bring you back, too. They’re … aggressive.

[ He says, though he’s of the mind that this old bird is native to the forest and not another absconding actor. Playing around on set is troublesome and he doesn’t expect a yokai to enjoy getting captured and dragged into some role. Quincy, similarly, no longer wishes to tolerate it—so he steps onto the other path and begins to head down it, not wanting to get caught either. Illusions and tricks are too risky with pesky crew members on his tail. ]

Post a comment in response:

This account has disabled anonymous posting.
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting