ASD "Druid" [UPDATED 7/19/25]
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Paraskevidekatriaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13th. It's a superstition, heavily popularized by the horror franchise (then singular movie) "Friday the 13th". Friday the 13th is cited to be an extremely unlucky day, but statistics show otherwise. Many governments, news organizations, and wide-scale companies have found that, /in fact/, people get into LESS accidents on Friday the 13th because they're meant to be more careful. So really- what is there to be afraid of on Friday the 13th? It's just another day.
Imagine telling Druid that, as he's on that stage. He wasn't able to get into his A.R.T. gear fast enough- not that he really cared to, in that moment. He was called by the Ambassador of Alagadda to do a simple task, like he usually is.
"If you died today..."
He stared down the sight of the Divine Stranger at Layla Raven.
"Would you be satisfied?"
. . . Druid was the one to hear the call. Hastur lined up the shot. But Alexander Issae was the one to fire.
// Updated.
Imagine telling Druid that, as he's on that stage. He wasn't able to get into his A.R.T. gear fast enough- not that he really cared to, in that moment. He was called by the Ambassador of Alagadda to do a simple task, like he usually is.
"If you died today..."
He stared down the sight of the Divine Stranger at Layla Raven.
"Would you be satisfied?"
. . . Druid was the one to hear the call. Hastur lined up the shot. But Alexander Issae was the one to fire.
// Updated.
" . . .Thank you, Lord Theodore."
He sat with the slug in the garden, just outside of his new enclosure made by Druid. Those tales of large creatures taken down, people being saved, and entire historical sites being discovered all by one Lord Theodore Thomas Blackwood wormed their way into the mind of the Assistant Site Director. He wasn't obsessed, and honestly he didn't care much for the information found within them. Not enough to remember, for the most part, unless certain buzzwords were tripped (and it was rare, too, unless he prompted).
To many, it appeared strange how quick Druid changed his opinion on that slug. Most treated it with begrudging respect- who really cared, at the end of the day? It was just another anomaly found at Site-66, and not even a particularly interesting one. It was a waste of a real containment chamber, usually thrown into a room and forgotten. Hell, may have even considered eating it with salt.
"I enjoyed that tale quite a bit."
That said... Here Druid was, sitting down alone with that slug. That so-called false-adventurer. He listened with extreme interest to those tales, knowing they were nothing more than stories of a man that was long gone. Alexander only wondered, truly, if he would end up like that slug one day. Broken. Nothing left but the stories. Not a single thing that resembles Druid, Alexander, or even Hastur.
Deep down without even needing to say it, he knew that he would do everything he could to ensure that Lord Theodore found a way to fulfill his promise. It was unlikely, almost impossible. The conditions barely even worked anymore, because of how he was. Any other person would take that tale and decide to make Blackwood's containment better, push for more respect for the anomaly, and then move on.
Yet here Druid was...
". . . Would you tell me another?"
... trying to do what no one else will do.
// Minor update.
He sat with the slug in the garden, just outside of his new enclosure made by Druid. Those tales of large creatures taken down, people being saved, and entire historical sites being discovered all by one Lord Theodore Thomas Blackwood wormed their way into the mind of the Assistant Site Director. He wasn't obsessed, and honestly he didn't care much for the information found within them. Not enough to remember, for the most part, unless certain buzzwords were tripped (and it was rare, too, unless he prompted).
To many, it appeared strange how quick Druid changed his opinion on that slug. Most treated it with begrudging respect- who really cared, at the end of the day? It was just another anomaly found at Site-66, and not even a particularly interesting one. It was a waste of a real containment chamber, usually thrown into a room and forgotten. Hell, may have even considered eating it with salt.
"I enjoyed that tale quite a bit."
That said... Here Druid was, sitting down alone with that slug. That so-called false-adventurer. He listened with extreme interest to those tales, knowing they were nothing more than stories of a man that was long gone. Alexander only wondered, truly, if he would end up like that slug one day. Broken. Nothing left but the stories. Not a single thing that resembles Druid, Alexander, or even Hastur.
Deep down without even needing to say it, he knew that he would do everything he could to ensure that Lord Theodore found a way to fulfill his promise. It was unlikely, almost impossible. The conditions barely even worked anymore, because of how he was. Any other person would take that tale and decide to make Blackwood's containment better, push for more respect for the anomaly, and then move on.
Yet here Druid was...
". . . Would you tell me another?"
... trying to do what no one else will do.
// Minor update.
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