An entity.

[aureatefantasia]

This is mostly for me to get my thoughts in order.


"John Doe" is the name taken on by a fragment—a reasonably large fragment, the very heart, in fact—of the Great Old One, the King in Yellow: Hastur. This fragment, though? Markedly more human, doesn't necessarily like Hastur, even if he still has certain inclinations and holds himself in a particular monstrously regal way when he isn't doing the mental equivalent of staring his host-vessel in the face because what the fuck are you doing, Arthur?, bouts of excitement, so on and so forth.

Funny thing, you know, when you can only control someone's vision, left hand, and left foot.

They're bound together, so fuckhead here has no choice, either. He only gains more control under specific conditions, of which he's promised (and he is shockingly true to his word) not to do again. He doesn't want to take away from Arthur, turns out. He does want his own body, though, and... maybe to be human.

So what do you do with part of a god that exists beyond the bounds of known reality, drives people mad, etc., who is slowly learning humanity?

...Aside from teach him about poetry and metaphor. Sometimes this ends humourously, but it's served them both well over the months.

Despite this arrangement, though, this relationship is far from perfect or even always friendly, with bouts of vitriol and arguments and derailments leading to stony silence or even physical harm. They're two strong personalities, and familiarity can surely breed contempt—especially while one is learning how to understand an entirely new perspective (be it Arthur or John doing the learning).

Still: John cares a great deal for and about Arthur, and not just because Arthur's survival is his survival. They've bonded through the hells they've seen, continue to go through, and John wouldn't know what to do without Arthur—probably even if he wasn't stuck in Arthur's body (being returned to the King is another matter...). As long as he is, though, he serves in the place of the eyes he's stolen: describing in detail what lays in Arthur's line of sight. Guy's a regular ALT text generator + reader, but it means Arthur remains effective when things get heated. After all: being a detective chasing cults of Elder Gods, getting stuck in the King's domain, attracting unwanted attention... It's not easy work. The bonus to him having Arthur's sight is the otherworldly visages of the creatures, landscapes, and beings they encounter need to do more than exist in proximity, as John is only so-affected by their countenances, fully able to process them even when words fail, whereas Arthur would go mad.

Though, perhaps Arthur's long gone mad. John serves as much as physical guide as he occasionally does moral compass, some days. One must be mad if a fragment of a madness-inducing god is the voice of reason, especially when he hides a score of secrets that would no doubt change things for possibly the worst. But... well. He owes Arthur enough, cares enough. They keep each other on track. And every moment that passes is a lesson in humanity and being more.

JOHN: It’s nothing, Arthur. I’m just telling you that every time you call him a monster, you’re forgetting that I am the same.
ARTHUR: But you’re not.
JOHN: And you don’t understand.
- ep24

ARTHUR: I think you are… your own, now, John.
JOHN: My… own?
ARTHUR: I don’t think you’re a piece of him, anymore. Nor a piece of me, truly. You’ve come so far. Changed so much. (He chuckles.) Think of what you’ve done. Think of how you’ve pulled me back from the edge, at the estate. You brought me back. That was… unmotivated by anything else, other than… love.
JOHN: You’re my friend, Arthur. You showed me the value of… carrying the fire. I couldn’t watch you lose your light.
- ep30

And that's all well and good, but... is it enough to change a monstrous creature after lifetimes of selfish cruelty and horror?

Gently offers Carcosa for an Arthur—
I'm current on the series, but also too lazy to rewrite things to account for it atm.


every word holds meaning

aureate adj.
1. denoting, made of, or having the color of gold
2. (of language) highly ornamented or elaborate

fantasia n.
1. a composition in fanciful or irregular form or style; a potpourri of well-known airs arranged with interludes and florid embellishments
2. an imaginative or fanciful work, especially one dealing with supernatural or unnatural events or characters
3. something considered to be unreal, weird, exotic, or grotesque

your first impressions last

Encountering John in his own body is, at first, unsettling for those unaccustomed to the Great Old Ones or similarly incomprehensible entities. An air of something Off or Strange, something potentially dismissed as simply a result of his appearance. Lingering in his presence might inspire a touch of madness, but as he is not Hastur in full, it's a well-reduced thing: there's enough humanity in him that it acts as a counterbalance. It also reins in his appearance behind the pallid mask. A physical body leaves him looking nearly human (from the waist up, at least), but the shadows cast by his hood, mantle, and the tattered ends of his robes all stretch a little too long, or hint at something unseen. The tattered and frayed ends of his robe reach out like tendrils and seem to move with a constant wind or as though they're alive in their own way. Something in the eyes of his mask seem to shift with his emotions, widening and narrowing even as they don't appear to change at all—it's a mask after all, but... Something isn't quite right. How many limbs are there within the sleeves and beneath the golden yellow layers? What is his face behind the mask? ...Is there one?
the above is purely headcanon and inspired by the king in yellow as described in canon and general lovecraftian and lovecraftian-adopted mythos

A living being possessed by John is an incomplete affair, for better or for worse. A voice echoing around the confines of the cradle of your skull, resonant and full, accompanied by the loss of your sense of sight. All he is comes as that voice, poetic and regally composed (if a touch condescending at times) in equal measure until fury or frustration turn what is normally smooth into a low growl to a rumbling roar—still trapped within. But better to listen, because he is an eager and thorough narrator. No one else can hear him, and he can't hear his host's thoughts... so whoever's carrying him will probably get a few odd looks from passers-by who can't mind their own business.

John is prone to detail on a poetic level if asked to describe something. Sometimes this means "flowery", sometimes it means "visceral". He's tonally very expressive, almost to the point of theatrical. His voice moves through the baritone range when he speaks, and it naturally shifts in alignment with his intent. Lighter, softer? Manipulative, cajoling, saccharine, and "trust me, won't you?" A lighter voice is less intimidating, after all. Smooth and low when he's even-minded. Rumbling like thunder when emotions roil. His voice distorts in tearing layers—painfully for the listener—deep and resounding, when truly angered as a remnant of his eldritch identity shining through whatever his circumstances.

Like his voice, given the opportunity, John's physically expressive as well. Especially in his own body, it's as much his nature as Hastur as it is the freedom of movement. With sweeping gestures, he rarely moves in an understated way unless he's trying to cut an interaction off directly, growing cold to it. He favours his left side to lead and at times doesn't think about the right at all outside of automatic movement and will instinctively reach with his left hand for something if he uses his hands for whatever it is.


art is of the soul

music:
"You Call It Madness (But I Call It Love)" - Russ Columbo and His Orchestra
"Faroe's Song" - Arthur Lester*

poetry:
"An Old Sweetheart of Mine" by James Whitcomb Riley (excerpt, st 1)
"Free" by Eugene O’Neil
"Invictus" by Earnest Hemmingway
"Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost

Camilla: You, sir, should unmask.
Stranger: Indeed?
Cassilda: Indeed it’s time. We all have laid aside disguise but you.
Stranger: I wear no mask.
Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) No mask? No mask!

The King in Yellow: Act I—Scene 2d