Who: Reaper no_reload & OPEN
What: He's back from the dead... again. Month-long catch all for his shenanigans of exploring, wandering and not wearing clothing.
When: All of March
Where: Everywhere in Deerington

Content Warnings: Public nudity, amnesia, home invasion


i. Smoke Week

Reaper was fairly miserable for the week where he was trapped as nothing more than smoke. The contents of his person gradually increased over the week, giving him more opportunities to settle into bigger containers. He would mostly keep himself to such places, limiting how much energy he had to put into not floating away. Contained places also meant that when he vomited himself inside out – and he did – it wasn’t such a difficult task to reorient himself afterwards.

There was only one problem that persisted. While he didn’t officially ‘sleep’ in such a form, he would internalize his consciousness in an attempt to block out the continuous pain that he suffered from. That was the only real source of ‘rest’ that he could accomplish and the chronic pain wore of him.

When he was internalized, the effects of his fourth death would often manifest itself in sensations of being pulled apart. Someone trapping him in this form, or someone seeking to stop his regeneration. That nightmare drove him from whatever container or person he was staying with to wander the streets slowly and rather ineffectively.

Anyone out in the early morning hours could find him lurking under a bush or vehicle, hiding in their houses or even right in the middle of the street. His smoky body pulled and twisted, confused and vulnerable. Bodies falling from the sky forced him to seemingly roll in a random direct for any place that could be deemed safe.

“Need a place to hide,” he’d be heard muttering. Or, “help me” which was very rare indeed. Even vulnerable, he was stubborn to the idea of needing a hand-out.

ii. Deerly Beloved

Once he had been able to obtain a human form again, he also discovered the deer form that gave him timely relief from the continual agony that he suffered from physically. At first, he had accidentally taken to it and been trapped there until he found a way out of it. He took a few days to learn how to control it – what else was he supposed to do? – so he could have time with a free but empty mind.

The smoky buck with an impressive set of antlers moved through the streets of town at dusk and into the night hours. He wandered as if seeking someone, and he would often be found on street corners issue a lot rumbling sound while looking around. Or in some cases he would issue a long high-pitched shrill call that echoed.

He could be found either wandering the streets, wisps of smoke lifting from his limbs, antlers and coat. At other times, he would stop outside of houses of people who he may have once known, peering at their abodes while lingering partially in shadows. The sensation of familiarity only frustrated the complete absence of memory as to why that sensation was.

iii. Facial Awareness

On his third death, Reaper had kept to himself, hiding away from the public eye except for select people. This time though, he had new sets of difficulties that sent from wherever he happened to be staying. He had been smart enough to write a book of people that he knew, who to trust, the extent of his own powers and pointers on how to relearn them. Apparently struggling with that once meant he wasn’t willing to have a repeat performance.

a. Clothing Options

What most Sleepers of Deerington might not realize was that Reaper’s goth get-up were not actually clothing made of fabric despite how they may feel or even despite the fact that he could physically remove articles as it pleased him to. It was all made from himself, which was the only reason that he could fall to smoke completely and reform with a full set of clothing.

That left him with the terrible truth that wearing normal fabrics was lesson in pain management. During the day, he was better about it, wearing as loose fitting clothing as possible. He would grit his teeth and head out onto the streets for collecting whatever items he was out for.

Reaper did not cover himself completely, meaning that large expanses of scarred up skin were exposed of his arms, his neck and face laid bare. He ignored the prerogative insisting he cover his face, and he mentally reasoned that no one had seen it. His naturally pigmented skin was mottled all over from old burn scars, lacerations and even bullets, and his hair was pure white and undeniably long down to the small of his back. His fingers and toes were blackened as if deadened by frostbite or desiccated from a lack of blood flow.

To those unfortunate enough to come across him in the middle of the night where he slept walked his way out of any area he was resting, they would find him standing completely nude in the middle of some street, on the top of some rooftop and randomly in someone else’s yard. His face would be turned up towards the sky in those times, lost and confused.

When aware of someone, he would turn his head to look and no matter the person, he would simply ask, “Arthur, is that you?”

b. Power test

Okay, this was going to work this time. Reaper held a small black book in hand and practically had his nose into the pages. He snapped it closed after a time, tucking it into a pocket in his clothing and then closed his eyes. His breath evened out or even deepen as he concentrated. Suddenly smoke began to rise from his hands and shoulders, and he evaporated to smoke.

He reformed himself a few meters away, smirking in triumph. Also very naked. “Shit, again…” Okay, back into clothes before anyone stared too long.

In another session, Reyes was just plain running full tilt. He moved faster than anyone had a right to, pelting along the streets as he pushed the limits of his own enhanced physical abilities. He jumped over obstacles in his way, sliding his ass across car hoods and even jumping over whole intersections of the street. Sometimes, if he wasn’t careful enough, he would run into mail boxes or chairs, sending them flying and seemingly unharmed.

In the outskirts of town, he could be caught standing quiet and alone. The grass would brush against his calves, and it seemed so peaceful. Then he seemed to relax and the grass and insects all around him in a three foot radius would wither and die, turning to into black husks. Reaper himself seemed unchanged aside from the fact that any bruises or injuries he might be carrying would heal.

“This… is my curse.” To always take life.

c. Curious Nature of Things

When one valued knowledge, the absence of it kind of drove them nutters. Reaper had always valued information, and that meant that he was set to explore to learn things that he had forgotten. With his little book in hand, he would wander the streets of Deerington. He examined businesses, even went inside the establishments to look around and take notes as it suited him to.

Reaper would also have little regard for people’s privacy. If someone had an interesting house or he could see in their windows that they were participating in a task or even just talking on the Fluid, he would not even bother with self control as he simply would try the door and walk in. He’d look around, huffing at a bad paint colour or wall paper.

“Hey who are you and what are you doing?” That was a good opener, right? Not too invasive. “Have we met before, do you think?” He might be wearing all black and stood with a similar bearing as Reaper but he was definitely far more outright curious and less… stalkery from a distance. He had no time for those tactics right now. He need info and he needed it now.