Aguril Catch-All Prompts (open and closed)

[silentsavant]

Who: Soren and the Aefengang (that's you guys....)
When: Anytime in Aguril
Where: your heart's desire.... or wherever the prompt designates
What: Open and closed prompts for events and quests and whatever strikes our mutual fancies. Prompts are in the comments.
Warnings: Minor blood. Mimes. Will add warnings as/if they come.

If you would like to plot a custom starter for your character, feel free to hit me up at wingything or my CR plotting meme comment! I absolutely love tailoring threads for just one character. Feel free to create your own starter in the comments below if there is something different you have in mind (wildcard option??).

➤ Red-String Strung Along. Soren and some poor shmuck (your character) discover that they are ~destined to be~ via the red string spell that went haywire. Original prompt can be found here.

➤ Match Made. Two prompt flavors: help Soren try to find mates for difficult customers, or get paired up with him for a complimentary date instead and see if you can get him to say yes. Quest page can be referenced here under the part-timer quest titled Match Made.

➤ Forget-Me-Nots. Two prompt flavors: Soren experiences pleasant memories while picking flowers, and then there's the option where one of those flower-loving foxes bites him, causing him to accidentally poke himself on the toxic thorns. Quest page can be referenced here.

Comments

Red-String Strung Along [OPEN]

[silentsavant]

[ Soren follows the red trail that the miscast spell has divined will lead to his one and only with stern irritation nestled into his brow. Whoever turns up on the end of the line cannot possibly be the one meant for him, he has decided. That person isn't even tied to this world right now.

Either way, he is out to end this farce right now. After either a short while or taking great pains to locate who destiny has in store for him, who does he find, but... ]

[unsundered]

[It was truly fate's hand at work today.

This wasn't the first of those troublesome strings to have graced the Ascian's hand, and it's another one that he regards with a most general displeasure. Fortunately he was already out and about somewhere in the city when he noticed its manifestation, but does he do anything to find his other half?

No. That would entail more walking around and more effort than Emet-Selch could rightfully be bothered with. But what is he more willing to do? That would be sitting (practically sprawling) on a bench. He's pretty rude about it too, being right in the middle of it, arms stretched along the back, making it clear no one else was welcome to join him. This bench was for him and for him alone.

Staring half at the sky, expression bored, idle, detached- he only loosely pays any notice of those people milling around. Only enough to notice when one seems to take notice of him. Almost as if--

Ah. The thread told the tale. But this time it involved a stranger.

Emet-Selch regards Soren with as much regard as he would any other apparent human- which is to say, not much at all. His voice is a low, casual rumble, waving lightly at him with his threaded hand.]

And so your fortune has led yourself to me. A blessing unfathomable, wouldn't you agree?

[He has no idea who this is.]

https://i.imgur.com/xTvAYQb.png

[silentsavant]

[Unfortunately for the both of them, Soren knows more about the looming manspreading figure before him than even a common stranger would feel secure comprehending. This may well be betrayed by the swift and soft collapse of his composure into shock as a brief chill arrests the space within his ribcage. His catlike pupils constrict, the spines at the tip of his twitching tail fan out as though in defense.

Destiny indeed. His Bonded's enemy. But now that their ties have been severed by the whims of Talam's hold on its outworlder guests, nothing lies contrary between them. Nothing to worry about. Two parties, completely neutral, at best tentative allies in the sense that they're both outsiders who come from the mirrors.

It's not that Soren has secrets to guard any longer, is not a potential pawn to be risked should the architect of the Exarch's world's demise ever catch onto their alliance. Nevertheless, he still has cause to be on guard about an immortal being who previously wielded enough power and likely still harbors a healthy disregard for countless lives to accomplish such sacrifice on the scale of entire empires, of many worlds to the pyre of his agenda. It has little to do with Soren now, but a character that sinister cannot be trusted.

Then again, Soren has never been generous with his trust to begin with. Even knowing nothing of him, he'd be wary.

The way he speaks, almost like he's toying with him... Does he know who he was to the Exarch? Or is that just a grating facet of his personality, like he'd seen in the Exarch's memory?

The small black dragon hardens that chink of surprise and relaxes only halfway, hoping the blame for his startle could be laid somewhere more casual. A tension still tightens his shoulders. He speaks with a cold and level distance.]

I can fathom that is it the work of a spell cast by hopeful amateurs, and nothing we need contemplate any further. Let's just snap this fraudulent connection and be done with each other.

perfection

[unsundered]

[A grating, charming facet of his personality to be sure, the Ascian's manner remaining quietly smug, casually superior as though his very existence of being himself gave him this right.

But this stranger's reaction to him also gets a raised eyebrow. There were irritable sorts, and there were skeptical sorts, and there were rude sorts, and Soren's reaction encompassed and surpassed all of them. And there was something more to it too, an edge of surprise that he had a hard time explaining, and Emet-Selch had no clue what the cause of it might be. Had he given him some reason for offense in the past without realizing? Perhaps the man was just insulted by this whole process of a thread deciding romantic potentials for him.

It's not as though the Ascian liked it either, but he also didn't take it seriously.]

And so you would challenge fate so casually... but very well.

[He sighs, giving a slow shake of his head, as though disappointed at Soren's failure to appreciate the opportunities spread out dramatically before him. Opportunities like... being condescended to, comparisons to vermin, disease, or insects. Things like that. Or if he's very fortunate, generalized misery and pessimism.

Emet-Selch toys with the string as he speaks, tugging idly at it between his fingers. A toy, just like the person it was attached to.]

I have no idea who you are, and I care nothing for your existence. I can go into more detail if you like.

[silentsavant]

[Oh, to be looked down upon by his fated and called an animal or a plague...! How it would take him on a trip down memory lane through a warm and wonderful childhood. A shame that he must miss out. But he doesn't need any more generalized misery and pessimism, either; he's already well-stocked in those departments.]

No need. [He rotates, offers him the cold shoulder.] I also care nothing for your existence.

[The red string would appear to disagree, for it remains perfectly intact, as though that sentiment doesn't actually ring so true after all. He looks down and frowns a little deeper, trying to keep the welling of mild panic at bay. He should have said something else. He doesn't want him privy to his prior connection, if only because it would be inconvenient and annoying to have to deal with him at any further length. He hurries to cover it up.]

Is this spell so broken that it cannot even be broken by the usual means?

[unsundered]

[A true pity... how well matched they would be, were fate less inclined to be cruel.

But how cruel it is. The thread remains, which allows a flicker of surprise to cross the Ascian's expression, followed by a quiet hum. There was something to this man's reaction to him after all, he considered- his first response that implied some manner of (negative) recognition. A wariness that wasn't just because he was now attached to a stranger.]

My... it seems destiny has more in store for us than we thought.

[The Ascian continues playing with a bit of slackened red string between his fingers as he regards him. One of them was lying- or at the least, not being wholly forthright. And for once Emet-Selch knew that it wasn't himself to blame, twisting the truth so that some technically correct statement could come across in any way he chose. No, this was a case when he knew that he was the one being entirely honest. He didn't know, nor cared for this man whatsoever.

That the thread remained turns his lazy detachment into a hint of curiosity, attention beginning to take in Soren in more detail, as though attempting to place him somewhere (And in a distant way, something slowly begins to work in the back of the Ascian's mind, though it's a possibility that hasn't reached his conscious thoughts yet. A dragon, with black scales. Unfriendly, unkind.).]

Have we met...? You'll have to forgive me for not making more of a note of it. You humans tend to blend together, after all.

[Not that he has any proof that this man is human, but he has no problem with making assumptions.]

[silentsavant]

[To be called human again after everything that has twisted his form is actually quite refreshing, however imperiously he was slotted with them. Soren maintains his cold and hardened facade against the curiosity he unintentionally provoked in the immortal. He shakes his head, rubbing at the back of his sable-scaled knuckles as though the skein's knot simply needed sloughing off.]

No. I've merely seen you around. You're quite distinctive. Hard to miss.

[Despite knowing how awry the red-string spell had gone due to the full Sisters' influence, the concept of destiny brushes a chill down his spine, like it might hold any potential right now. Like he can't simply dismiss it, even though he wants to. After all, he has reason to believe there's more to it than a scornful wave of the hand.]

[unsundered]

[Unfriendly and cold, and unwilling to indulge in his pleasant (that is, only moderately condescending) banter. What a terrible dragon.]

'Tis only natural that your eye would be drawn in my direction. And while I can't fault your taste... are you so shy as to require a means like this to gather the courage to approach? I don't bite... the unfamiliar, anyway.

[What a reassuring smile, mocking to the last, though his watchfulness remains. When he deigns to continue it's on a slightly more serious tact.]

But yet you're far less indifferent than you should be to someone you've only seen around. Who am I to you? And who are you for that matter?

[While he was used to people not liking him (any time he brought out his actual personality, that tended to happen), the Ascian generally had a pretty good idea both as to who and why. And yet he'd somehow provoked this dragon's ire and caution without even trying.

Emet-Selch knew he hadn't done anything in this world to warrant more than a bit of irritation, and only at select targets, some of whom weren't even present any longer (like the Exarch). He had no designs on this world, no reason to encourage its ruin. No reason to have obtained any particular grudge from someone who hadn't already possessed one (also like the Exarch).

Had someone warned this man about him? If so, who? And for that matter, why?]

[silentsavant]

[There's no space to chastise himself for his mistakes; that won't do anything for him. He said what he said and he cannot replace those words with something less suspicious, more reasonable, but true, such as 'I don't trust you'. No, he's going to have to keep moving with the flow of their conversation, for if he extricates himself now, that will only prod at Emet-Selch's interests and suspicions further. How can he play this? He needs to be fleet of thought.

Perhaps offering up a morsel of the whole truth could disentangle him? Not merely the symbolic string that binds them together, but the uncomfortable encounter itself. An answer like this is likely to satisfy his perked up curiosity. He sighs to deflate some of the building tension inside, while on the surface to express reluctance in having to engage for any longer.]

If you must know, I've seen you in the memory of another Mirrorbound. Most of it consisted of vain badgering on your part, though there was a palpable inhospitable tension in the air between you and the holder.

[unsundered]

Poking about memories, were you... I hope you were invited.

[Something has almost, but not quite clicked into place. But Emet-Selch is distracted in another direction instead by thinking about whose memories he must've seen to give this man such a poor (and accurate) impression of him. He'd had a few unpleasant conversations with the Warriors of Light that he got on with less easily, but he didn't think much of his behavior to them would fall under the umbrella of 'vain badgering' (how rude).

Nor did it didn't sound as though the dragon had entered his own mirror (which would've opened up a world of possibilities that Emet-Selch would've had little chance of narrowing down), so his option had to be both someone here, and someone he had a particular negative dynamic with.

...There was really only one person who fit that description, even if he was no longer present. There was only stating it, and seeing the reaction.]

--Ah. Familiar with the Crystal Exarch, were you? [A heavy sigh, as though regretful.] Yes, I can imagine that would leave you with an impression most unfavorable. We did tend to bring out the worst in one another. Nor am I surprised he would begin to collect pawns here as well... spiteful as he ever was, towards me.

[Or maybe Soren was a grumpy sort who would've disliked him regardless.]

[silentsavant]

[Even though Soren expected this could be deduced even with such precious detail, a chill settles in upon the connection's linking, down to the familiar analogy of game pieces. It's finalized. The way Emet-Selch sees him has ossified from a transient stranger to someone who once stood by the Exarch's side. He understands more about the ancient being than would be tolerated by him, but there are gaps in his knowledge yet unfilled due to a lack of a more integrated and personal experience of one who was raised on Hydaelyn. Certain details fade into the darkness of periphery. Knowing who you are dealing with is half of the battle. And right now, the problem Soren contests with is not quite knowing what sort of danger he could be treading into, or even if there is danger to begin with. He can only work with what he does know.

One thing is crystal clear, though: his soul-to-soul pact with G'raha is broken now. That no longer holds any bearing. His eyes grow a little sharper, though his cadence remains calm and assertive.]

What makes you think he was making a pawn of me? I'm not a piece to be moved nor claimed between the two of you simply because he was an acquaintance of mine. However, in knowing a little of him, I naturally know a little of you. But I have determined that in this world, you are no longer the caliber of a threat that you could be.

[usurpers]

[ great pains indeed, for the one at the other end of the red string of fate was no other than . . . another black dragon. the other black dragon. by musk and scale alone, it’s eren.

except he’s literally yanking at the current string attached to his finger like he’s wrangling a bull and when soren comes pummeling through— he ceases, staring back with little to no movement in him until he attempts a slow moving wave; of reptilian recognition. ]

Sorry.

[silentsavant]

[ that little beardie wave is cute and all, but it's winning no points from soren, who is ticked off! and what's worse than being ticked off by someone? being hormonal and helplessly attracted to them...

needless to say, he has quite a few bees in his bonnet. he gets up from falling flat on his grumpy face and thumps him on the chest. ]

You should have been sorry before you started jerking me around like that. What did you think was going to happen?

[usurpers]

[ soren’s punches on eren probably make that sound when flats tries to kick spongebob’s butt. at least the disgruntled slant in the other dragon’s brows does . . . little in changing eren’s expression: big eyes just staring down, and an intrusive tongue flipping out to tickle and taste the top of soren’s head, or the start of it. ]

Something else would come out. [ like . . . food? a knife? an apparition. he didn’t know, spells were immensely capricious. ] Are you hurt?

[ pulling his arm up, eren dips to take a look at the (probably) rising other hand that’s tangled in this mess, that is, if soren doesn’t forcefully yank back. ]

[silentsavant]

[ you aots are all the same, aren't you? yanking on your strings; sticking your long sensory appendages out to poke poor soren in the head... not that he's thinking this whatsoever. he's mostly just bothered by the getting licked part on top of being pulled, and how easy it is to rile him up with something so primitive, so stupid. especially by eren, who radiates sex appeal more than usual. he just wants to live his life... he looks away, frowning, and huffs, but doesn't jerk his hand away. ]

I'm not hurt. I'm just annoyed and inconvenienced.

[usurpers]

[ eren just has this natural smolder to him. just look at him, every hover of his arm wings look like a glistening FLEX and his tall, scaly complexion the dark side of a tempting moon . . . beckoning for sin.

but really he’s just standing there. ]

Then you’re ready to break this.

[silentsavant]

...

[ breaking it means communicating his true feelings. it's not that he has any trouble telling people his honest opinion of them (especially when it's not flattering...), but when it comes to eren in particular, it's... not something he finds easy to translate into language. and moreover, thanks to horny!vision, he can't stop fixating on one particular aspect of their relationship.

he heaves a big sigh and looks him in the eyes, frowning. he hasn't gotten any less sexier. his tail brushes the earth behind him and thumps lightly. he takes his hand back and crosses his arms. ]

I'll go first, then. I find you... inexplicably handsome. From a purely physical standpoint, I cannot resist you. [ he looks so serious about this, and yet... he cannot keep his cheeks from getting a little pinker.] You also intrigue me. The nightmarish experiences that have whetted you into who you have become now seem beyond my capacity to imagine, but I can tell that your unique hardships have made you redoubtably strong.

[ okay, the pinkness is mellowing out a bit as the topic becomes more sober, and he lowers his vision to look straight ahead, actually capable of seeing past the hunky dreamlizard before him. ] With strength such as yours comes immense burdens. I'm not presumptuous enough to say that I understand them. We all shoulder them differently. But I can see them in you like a sailor only fathoms dark, living shapes moving beneath surface of the sea. It's never been any of my business to ask, but... [ he shakes his head. ] no, it's nothing. I appreciate all you have done to help push me to grow as I am in this body now, and I hope that by helping you to restore Creia, I have repaid your efforts sufficiently. There. I ended up rambling for more than I probably needed, but... there it is.

[usurpers]

[ that was so packed with detail that for the first few moments of listening and even after, it seems as if the dragon has. stopped! froze. the blue screen of death. he is in need of a reboot. his pupils have engorged and thinned so many times as opinions were given and painted colorfully— not sweetly but certainly colorful and intricate and even poetic. luckily, eren wasn’t one to feel like he’d fall short when curtness was simply the way he’s spoken his whole life, but. he does blink. enough that the silence becomes awkward. did he care that he was handsome or desired? not particularly. did he care that soren was at least minimum lay aware that there was something to him? more interest pique him there than his appearance.

it’s nothing, indeed. perhaps the final bundle of experience was what stuck out the most for him, believe it or not. breathing in, eren’s tail flops from one side to the other. ]

You don’t have to repay me for . . . Anything. [ he was not as deserving of any sort of compensation. chewing the inside of his mouth, eren pulls up the finger tied to the string, with one half weakened to its fullest. now it’s him. ] I just wanted to help you. We share similar experiences, so I know sometimes . . . I understand you.

[ had that been it—? it’s still tight. there was something that he was compelled to address. ]

When we’re together you only let me think of one thing. Freedom— nothing else matters during those times, and that . . . Gives me peace. Even if it’s temporary.

[ immediately after, the strings burst into a confetti blast of magical mini fireworks, and they are left with. hm. truths.

eren seems to be staring at soren, now with something odd: his cheek scales are showing off in a brand new color! ]

[silentsavant]

[ oh. the mood of the moment is rather... touchy, isn't it? in other words, soren has a bit of a heart-on. he would never admit it, but that color sweetening eren's cheeks is endearing.

soren has already revealed that eren's truths have bored into him by way of his wide-eyed and careful reception.

it's difficult not to want to take eren somewhere right now and foster that powerful feeling he just confessed to. now that the words linger between them this way, soren has come to recognize it, too. freedom...

he thinks of ike for a moment. he thinks of ike a lot. the deep blue back of his head against the sky, the chatter of birds leaping through branches, catching insects on the wing in summer, soaring on thermals way up high, unrestricted by gravity and inspiring wonder with the boundlessness of where their natural gifts could take them: anywhere. he feels, for a moment, what he felt in such a prosaic snapshot of a memory like that. whatever hangs here is this. whatever they share, even if it's a fleeting crash of their bodies beyond the walls of cities, nothing but their bodies moving together in combat or otherwise, erases all of the useless noise that crowds his brain when the freedom to be with who he loves beyond his own life's worth is denied him.

soren lowers his sights, for looking at eren right now is a little too much. his tail tucks loosely close to himself as if in shyness. ]

Yes... Freedom. I think... I reciprocate that.

[ you can be done confessing, soren! and yet here you are, having human emotions. ]

[usurpers]

[ what was freedom to eren, now? was it still a vast canvas clean of the cruelty he came to know? if it were, he’d still be trying to return home to see it, to feel it: a sky that only he would see, and a world he could travel away from its impurities. now . . . no, lately, doubt has reached him in what he saw, and liberty came in the small pockets of time where worry wouldn’t beseech him to cease. it would simply happen, and he would . . . exist. exist in peace, alone or whilst sharing his space.

so, when he comes to think of that, with the silence beginning to gather and the awkward stillness the air meets despite being spectators to such a lovely little firework show— eren’s intense gaze remains, but his lips!! his lips pull down in a frown of growing embarrassment. or shyness, as well? his mind is caught wandering to the “sharing” part of grass being torn and frames a wave just by, oh, there, he went and did it, the eye dart. the thing you do when you try not to look at something (lips, neck, then eyes) and end up doing so anyway. the dragon’s brows seem to clinch slightly where they meet by the space of his forehead, and there his color changes again, dawning an influx of more purple hues.

he was honest usually, but it didn’t mean he had an easy time expressing what he felt sometimes. he doesn’t even know what to say anymore— see you later? it is stuck. in his throat.

soren would be surprised to find that the only way eren can express anything right now was to give the other dragon’s gut a “harmless“ jab. how “harmless” depends on soren’s intake. ]

[silentsavant]

Ah- oof...

[ his hands were flying to that spot, but too late... now they're just clutching himself not in any significant pain but as a reflex slightly delayed by the distraction of eren's evolving expression and because it still knocks the wind from him. his gut isn't exactly armored by scales in this form... he squints up at eren petulantly and offers his thigh a quick tail lash in retaliation. ]

What was that for...

[ he actually doesn't understand!! is he mad at him for embarrassing him? flirting aggressively with him? soren doesn't speak the language of friendly jabs. ]

[tryhard]

[ ...Waver! He finds Waver. Looking absolutely baffled and glaring between the string around his finger and Soren with mounting annoyance. ]

Really?

[ At least it's someone he knows. ]

[silentsavant]

[ Soren looks less annoyed than Waver, just... resigned and quietly fed up with these magical hijinks. It appeared as he was on his way to Inkchanted, and the longer he traveled through the hilly arteries of the Harbor District, the easier it was to narrow down who his soulmate of the day was. His quip comes out sardonic and smileless as he holds up his finger like he's looking at a broken nail. ]

I come all this way to meet my one true love, and this is how he reacts? [sigh...] Fate really is cruel to me...

[ no lol he's coming to work and they both know it. They both know this is actually such bullshit. Right? ]

[tryhard]

[ ...and a matching sigh from Waver too. He tugs at the string, watching it go taut. ]

Oh, don't give me that.

[ He's not serious about actually looking for his true love, is he?? God. Hopefully not. That'd be awkward and disappointing. ]

It's just some sort of spell gone awry again. These idiots are obsessed with all these stupid rituals for this stupid supposed 'holiday'...

[ Grumbles Waver like a complete, cold-hearted skeptic. As if he didn't take the majority of Lunasa's observance off of work to renew his Bond and be a lovestruck sap for two days straight. Ahem. ]

[silentsavant]

[ It's a good thing Soren isn't privy to that little vacation he took, or else he might be due for a snarky remark. Instead, he winds an inch of the string around his sharp little finger in return for the tug, tightening the tension between them even further. ]

True love and steadfast partnerships are in season right now. Can you blame them?

[ Still dry in tone... ]

Luckily for us, breaking the spell can be as easy as it can be exasperating. Tell me how you really feel about me, Waver.