Credits

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-Gonna put them up here for convenience-

link back to form

As permitted by Strudel, certain parts of the form were put off topic to keep the post less condensed<3
Hope you enjoy reading!

Genoveva was the other viscet used in this story (please ignore the user seen on the front post- I won her in a readopt last year)

raw text, shown for archiving purposes

Hobby- {Art Piece with 50 words}
Personality- {300/300 words}
Origins- {1099 words}
Abilites- {294 words}
Story- {1503 words}
Total for Extras- (excluding titles) {2896/3000}
Titles- {11 words}
Extra Art- {1 Piece}

-To the winner, please pm me about the art! There's a version I wish to give you instead of the full one seen in the form since I plan to use the background further.-

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Origins

After all this time, Desmond considers himself a form of a genius loci. Not even he’s quite sure of his origins or whether or not he's had someone who physically conceived him, and he only saw fit to name and title himself after claiming his own territory. All he’s ever known is his existence, but to be frank, he's never had the urge to find out anything more. He’s seen lifetimes come and go like the wind, continents shift and change under his feet, and animals die and evolve in equal measures.

However long his life may be, Desmond could feel his life source dwindling faster than it could regenerate by the time he was aware enough to notice. After long periods of rest forced on himself just to stay alive (and missing countless revolutions of the world- time he’d never get back) Desmond realized that he was never meant to roam, and the need to establish himself made him antsy.

And so he roamed the earth before finding his way to the Osa Peninsula. He was attracted by the sheer life and diversity permeating from the soil— wedged midway between the Tropic of Cancer and the Equator, the area promised a great deal in sustaining his life source, so he took root, and the earth easily accepted him as its master. His life source manifested itself into a Kapok tree, and the tree grew tall and proud amidst the diversity of the forest. He took on a new skin, adorned in colorful feathers and sinuous muscle in an effort to blend in further.

His elation wasn't set to last long. Now with a solid connection to the earth, he inadvertently limited himself to the Peninsula— Desmond could go no farther than the boundaries that his life force had established in the peninsula, and each reminder of the fact drove him to seek other solutions to calm his need to move. Rationally he knew the limitation was a small price to pay for his life, but he became greedy. And rash.

Now, before Desmond elected to settle down, he resorted to more insidious methods of taking energy and life he couldn't create himself. His whole existence turned parasitic— he started small in an effort to limit himself, simply killing like a predatory animal, but his increasing need led him to decimate whole forests and populations, only leaving barren wastelands, extinction, and husks in his wake. The high of temporarily restoring himself to full power made his thoughts acidic. The flora and fauna mattered little to him, and the remorse he had for snuffing out life dulled to where he simply found joy in the rush.

And Desmond would have continued down this unfeeling road had he not realized that stealing energy this way only doomed him further. His own greed betrayed him as he grew weaker and weaker and fell into deeper slumbers after crashing from his power fluxes.

The peninsula seemed like a godsend as he slowly felt his energy grow bit by bit, but it wasn't enough for him to wait patiently.

It wasn't long until Desmond realize that he didn't need to limit himself to his small territory in the peninsula. He couldn't physically extend out, but his life force could.

He discovered that the roots of his Kapok could reach deep into the earth and far out in any direction he pleased. And the rush he felt from extending his power and range of his territory made it all the better. Desmond cared little for the death and rot he left in his wake. The territory he admired so much for its vitality was succumbing to his hold, and he fed greedily on the energy of the earth itself.

He never did learn to learn from his mistakes.

(Desmond dreads to think about what would have happened if the peninsula hadn't unintentionally stopped him.)

Desmond knew little of the method he used to keep himself alive, so he didn't realize that the state of the forest reflected his own health. And he was steadily destroying the Peninsula.

The energy he took in started to corrode the mortal form he adopted from the inside out, and he felt his own power feed on himself as his own greed turned on him. Had he not pulled back his roots in time, he would have killed both himself and left a blight on the earth the likes no creature had ever seen.

The experience shook him- it had been a long while since Desmond gave a thought to the life he saw as merely food. Too damaged and volatile to sleep in order to heal, he had to watch as the forest around him recovered as he struggled to keep his roots tethered to the Peninsula. He instinctively knew that a repeat of the incident would kill him. It was agony how his roots perpetually fought against the restraints.

Like a punishment, he had to watch and feel the energy of the forest bounce back before he could recover. His spirit was trapped in his mangled body until the forest healed enough to spare energy for him. It was humbling, knowing how little he truly mattered to its health.

(No true organism willingly feeds their parasite, after all.)

But, despite the forest’s callousness towards him, Desmond was still privy to its inner workings. And he watched and felt as it grew back to its former glory, sprouting vulnerable buds that grew into the sturdiest trees, and fostering generations of animals that changed with it. Despite any fires or disruptions, the forest stubbornly grew, not willing to succumb to destruction.

Because of this, Desmond formed a connection to the land he was sure wanted to expel him. He grew protective of the forest in a way that he's never done before. The tenacity of the life of the forest only tightened his own grip on his covetous roots until they eventually stopped vying for freedom.

(But… the greed remained. The roots would never forget that rush.)

Once the forest gave him enough energy to heal, it was odd registering how he stepped on eggshells for a good bit of time whenever he explored his own home. He knew the forest would tolerate him for years to come, sure, but…

Desmond's not too sure if he’ll ever forgive himself for what he did to his own territory. All of the lives he once carelessly threw away, now infinitely precious in their fleeting nature.

His mission to indefinitely protect and provide for the forest is the least he could do, really.

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Abilities

Longevity- Desmond's outlived entire species during his lifetime. He’s never actually adopted a corporeal form until recently, though. The names “Desmond” and “Mieczysław” were even more recent. However, since adopting Mieczysław as his true name, the only other soul who knows it is Genoveva.

Energy Transference- Although he usually takes energy for himself since it's his only viable form of sustenance, he can also give energy- turning back the clock is beyond even him, so the most Desmond can do is accelerate growth or accelerate decay. With the Osa Peninsula as his home, he acts as a conduit for the life permeating the forest. He's sustained by its vitality, but he inevitably cycles the energy back into the forest. The fruit has never tasted sweeter.

Parasitism- Desmond's ability to transfer energy is only benign because he forces it to be so— there's no limit to how much energy and life he can steal or give, and he can easily overload energy back into a target to corrode it from the inside out. He's ashamed to admit that he once regarded the earth itself to be a mere host.

Root Manipulation- Once his life force manifested itself into an impressive Kapok tree deep in the heart of his rainforest, he found that he could extend the roots for miles in any direction and bring them up to the surface as well. Nowadays, he uses them merely as a physical weapon. Can't give them much more power than that.

Genius Loci- After claiming the forest as his own, Desmond sought to protect the peninsula as well. His life force is tethered to the area, so he can't exactly leave (or he can't leave without severely weakening himself) so he commits his time to safeguarding the forest.

[Placebo]

A Love, Lost and Found || Story

Desmond nearly killed them the first time he spotted the family through the trees.

The group— not that he could really call it a group, their numbers were so miniscule— was unassuming as they carefully trekked through the thick foliage and vines on the windy morning. Hiding in the canopy, all Desmond could tell was that one was a female, one a male… and he also noticed another light scent he couldn't identify. He definitely didn't see another shape through the trees.

Well, no matter. Trespassers didn't get very far in his jungle, anyway. The energy in the forest easily bended to his will as roots buried deep within the ground responded to his call, shifted in the earth, and eased their way to the surface. Just a quick snap, and problem solved. Desmond really didn't want to deal with anyone unruly today. He wouldn't even make it hurt.

Desmond’s not entirely sure what made him pause long enough for the pair to rest. The female carried a sturdy rucksack at her flank, and the male was quick to relieve his partner of her burden. And out of the bag came… an egg.

So that's the smell.

The roots stopped before they reach the surface. He watched as the pair cuddled their precious cargo, and inch by inch, Desmond’s roots receded back into the earth. His gaze was unreadable as he watched the pair regain their energy while carefully doting on the egg, and they didn't even notice him when they pass under the tree he was resting in. He was almost tempted to laugh at how blissfully unaware the vigilant parents are.

Still, he allowed them deeper into the jungle. Nothing wrong with giving a viscling a home, after all.

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Desmond doesn't reveal himself to the couple in those first few months. He merely watches as the pair builds a home for themselves from the ground up, and every day he watches as the male lays on the ground and indulgently holds the egg up to the light every morning like a prayer, just to catch a glimpse of the tiny life tucked inside.

If Desmond subtly cranes his neck out to take a look from his vantage point too, then no one’s the wiser.

It does make him a bit restless knowing how close the family is to his tree, a Kapok barely as ancient as he… but, then his mind strays to the developing life inside that egg. To the hopeful, determined faces of the two parents. It's a strange experience, this sort of offhand protectiveness he feels towards the young family. Desmond can't recall ever showing this level of concern over anything trespassing in his home. He loves his home, truly… but rarely interferes for anything outside of it.

After all, a Mahogany tree graciously offers itself as a shelter to a passing songbird, but dually watches on impassively as it’s snatched up by a hawk in the same branches. The old proverb rings in his ears as Desmond watches on intently, curious eyes constantly tracking the egg in the warm sunlight. The family shouldn't hold this much influence over him.

They shouldn't.

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He's discovered entirely by accident one evening.

Day by day, Desmond silently observes as the family’s egg grows more opaque under the weak morning rays, until one day the mother interrupts her partner’s habitual routine to keep the egg inside the developing house.

He sees not hide nor hair of the family for several sunrises, but it barely surprises him when they come out one day with a small body cradled in the female’s arms.

The baby's a tiny thing, merely a brown blob nestled against her parent’s feathers, and Desmond continues to observe as she's brought out day by day and grows fat and happy under watchful eyes. Six instead of four as the tyke’s likely led to believe.

Curiosity wins out one day as he strays much too close to the home. The parents were gone that day for whatever reason (not sure why they would, but he's never raised a viscling so what does he know), and Desmond noticed that the viscling had strayed. Considering her natural predator was everything, he knew this had a high likelihood of going south, and fast.

She regards him curiously as well when he came into view. She’s rightfully wary of him, but the fact that he was also a viscet like her parents made her approach him on wobbly paws. He’s quite sure what to do with her once she clings to his leg, but he gingerly picks her up in an attempt to return her home.

He's not quite sure how he ends up staying outside with the child, letting her battle with his ears and tail. Desmond’s leery about letting her be so close to him but he thought a being a babysitter for a few hours can't hurt.

It's probably the baby blue eyes.







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He's not sure what it says about him when he doesn't even hear the male approach him from behind.

The poke comes out of nowhere, and it's a testament to how engrossed he was with the child not falling off his back when he calmly looks over his shoulder and into the pale blues of the male. Desmond looked at him blandly, but he did shift a bit as the male’s expression remained wry, but nonetheless intense.

«I suppose I should thank you for watching Genoveva,» He said.

It takes Desmond longer than he’d like to admit to process the language. Talking’s never really been his strong suit, but he still managed to blurt, «Why did you leave her alone here?»

The male had the good grace to look sheepish. «She's gotten more mobile than we’ve anticipated. Hard to keep in once place.» Desmond's careful to stay still as Genoveva’s father carefully retrieves her, and he internally notices how adorable it is when she stretches out her paws to meet her father. «But we didn't leave her alone— I knew you were here to watch over her, oh protector of the jungle.»

Desmond's eyes snap up at that. So they knew he was here this whole time.

He must've been more transparent than he'd thought because the male gave him a wry half-smile and said, «You're not as well camouflaged as you think you are, child. I honestly thought you were a black jaguar at first, but the ears gave you away.»

«My ears aren't that big,» he calls after the male as he walks away with Genoveva. And then, petulantly, «…And I’m not a child.»

«Well, come on then.»

Desmond dutifully follows.

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It seemed as if that exchange was a thinly veiled excuse for the family (Santiago, Adella, and Gen as he came to call them) to invite Desmond into their home. They quickly brought him into their fold as Genoveva’s honorary big brother. They also regarded him as a son, though he wasn't sure why— he might look younger than them, but it didn't mean he was.

They were a quiet, well-settled pair, but quirky nonetheless; he could sense weak magic in all three of their souls, and suspected they could sense his as well. It's a wonder that they didn't question him about the fact.

Desmond watched as their daughter grew into a soul far older than her parents' optimistic spirits, and they went to great lengths to keep him around the house whenever he wasn't checking his territory.

Including giving him a greenhouse on the top level of their home. Adella’s exact words were, «Well, we brought the forest inside to keep you inside.» Desmond's still not sure why they filled it with tiny trees, though…

It comforted him knowing that they came for the sole purpose of protecting the Peninsula through preservation efforts. (Though unnecessarily, as he never told them— there's a reason why there was next to no civilization in his Peninsula. No creature ever got far enough to attempt it) It's the thought that counts, really.

Desmond grew to love the three in a way that made his heart constrict in an entirely foreign way.

Well, Desmond supposed it was never too late to create another promise. He’d protect this family, too.

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It's a wonder how the only thing he couldn't protect them from was a fire. He never found Gen’s young body in the ruins.

The forest mourned with him that day.

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For Desmond, at the very least, the years passed in a near eternal blur.

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It’s a sickeningly cheerful day when he spots the form from his vantage point in the canopy. He doesn't even bother letting his roots creep to the surface at the intrusion. He also doesn't notice that the figure disappeared during his internal slump.

He barely reacts to the poke on his flank. He calmly turns around and peers into baby blues. The female casts him a wry half-smile, and says, «You still suck at camouflaging yourself, Desmond.»

Desmond's voice cracks, betraying his bland stare. «Genoveva.»

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