middaeg | February Fallout + March Catchall

Entry tags:

February Fallout + March Catchall

Who: Soren & OTA
When: March (some late February)
Where: Your Heart's Desire (or wherever designated)
What: Various. Soren is suffering from difficulties with his memory and bouts of disorientation after being brainwashed.
Warnings: Mentions of past event (blood/violence; brainwashing)

i. nameless faces
Maybe you're passing by the dragon on the streets of the Haven, or down in the Harbor District, or perhaps the Coven grounds. Maybe you know him and decide to greet him. Maybe you don't and do it anyway. Or maybe you're not the type to exchange pleasantries and instead offer him a passing glance of acknowledgment.

Or maybe you did none of these things, and Soren should still be able to recognize you. Maybe he doesn't, but thinks he should anyway. For some reason, he's offering a blank, nonplussed stare, long and hard like you're wearing someone else's skin. Realizing this faux pas, Soren snaps out of his brief trance and mumbles an apology.

"Oh... Excuse me." The way he shifts, he looks like he might just be thinking about evacuating the unintended social situation.

ii. lunatic (foeuveur 28th)
The Looking-Glass House was once devoid of a single soul besides the Dragon. Moonlight streams through the windows, full and bright. It's the witching hour. He cannot sleep.

He holds his horned head pressed to the surface of one of the many mirrors lining the walls as if in deep contemplation or to nurse a migraine. The charged and eerie silence echoes in mantras on his soft voice. If one treads closer, they will begin to hear snippets of what he murmurs to himself:

"He is not here. He never was. Don't let this infernal world get to your head..."

iii. fall back
Navigating the crush and flow of traffic in the Shopping District today is no mean task. Bypassing the crowd by taking to the air should come naturally to any Monster equipped with wings, but for whatever reason, this simple, frequently employed solution appears to have eluded the tactician.

It may not even cross anyone else's mind to begin with, being as there are plenty of shops packed together and stalls set up for the purpose of meandering through to browse. Soren pushes though as if on a mission to get out, but in the bustle and confusion, someone wheels around and clumsily smacks Soren in the back of his head hard enough to rob him of his footing.

The Dragon takes a skidding tumble into the streets, dropping bags and books. He gets trampled and tripped over a couple of times before passersby begin to notice, then throng him in a cluster of concern and curiosity. Soren blinks up at them in a daze, but then he blanches with fear. The crowd murmurs and shouts various questions and remarks, mostly whether he hurt himself or why he won't say or do anything, but it's difficult to parse among the cacophonous backdrop. His mouth hangs open and he tries to make himself smaller. One person reaches out, but he withdraws even harder, flinching as though they mean to strike rather than lend a hand. This show forces some of the people to shake their heads at his refusal of help and move on with their day, while the few who remain offer each other questioning glances as if asking each other what to do if he's going to act like this.

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[This piques Soren's interest. He'd wanted to escape the dense flow of foot traffic all along, but now he wishes more than before that they weren't so swarmed. Nothing bars them from conversing while walking, but it's not as easy.]

You've been to a different world before?

[He performs a quick survey of their surroundings from his height and locates patches of the streets close to a couple of boutiques and a café sparse of people. Not only that, but there are two sets of tables and chairs, and one is not occupied. He begins to head in that direction, casting a meaningful glance toward his company in silent urging to follow, and that he's listening in spite of the movement. Settling down for a moment might help to gather his bearings anyway; this wouldn't be the first time he forgot which errands he was running today.]

[Ferran follows Soren without additional comment, instead focusing on answering the question as they move towards the seats.]

Not in the same way as coming here. It's more like...

[It's a metaphorical "world," maybe, but still significant enough to count, he feels.]

Well, imagine you thought monsters were only made up stories your whole life. That's what you've always been told, and you had no reason to question it. But all of a sudden you realize that not only are you a monster, but a few people you know are, too—and none of you knew until recently.

[He knows if he'd maybe been less stupid about shoving people away, he might have been able to speak to the being that supposedly gave him his powers... but there are times he wonders how much help they'd actually been to his friends. It was a mess, either way.]

[Soren sets his armload down onto the tabletop carefully as he follows along with Ferran's explanation. It's easy to do so at first: monsters exist only in stories and fables on Tellius, as far as he's aware, and the closest thing that approaches the concept is mankind itself, beorc and laguz both, depending on your perspective. But Soren finds the entirety of it lacking, like he needs more context to understand what sort of world this is.]

Actually, you make it sound almost exactly like Aefenglom. I'm not sure I quite understand. It sounds more like you discovered something that changed your world rather than experienced any new ones. Do I have that right?

[It's entirely possible that, even with the full story, Soren wouldn't consider it a similar experience. Ferran's entire life situation changed at that time, more than just the discovery of his powers, and even he knows the emotional aspect made it more significant. Regardless, he hums to acknowledge the Dragon's response as he sits, placing the books on the table and folding his hands.]

I didn't go anywhere—the places were all the same. But knowing that I was different, that I had access to things only a few other people did, and that nobody else would believe... it changed a lot. I didn't know about any of the others at first, either.

[Soren pursues his slight curiosity in the fresh Fae's experiences prior to ending up here. The variety (and peculiar similarities) of worlds can be interesting to pick apart, and besides... it feels better to focus on something other than his own jumbled up memories. He checks their surroundings once more before taking his own seat across from him, scooting one of the bags aside so that it isn't half-blocking his vision.]

I see. [It was Ferran's perception of the world and his relation to it that changed after all, and because monsters were never believed to be real, he would have precious little in the way of books and other sources of information to help him understand what was happening to him and the others.] Even without a library, it sounds like you did get to learn a little more about what you were.

[It seems familiar... The ghastly idea of discovering you were a "monster", how that shifts the world around you and makes the place you stand in connection to everyone else unstable. Soren recalls this cold, stomach-dropping fear, and as Ferran replies, he already finds himself struggling to remain focused, like their conversation had triggered a mental sinkhole.]

[Ferran offers a slight smile and shrugs, agreeing with the phrasing. He never met the being that granted him his powers, and never truly understood why they were given to him. For the most part, the things he learned about were the basics of what his magic can do and just how varied his friends' magic was. It was hardly anything definite.]

A little. Mostly, I just kept finding more questions, and then... I fell through a mirror.

[He chuckles briefly, although he doesn't miss the distant look in Soren's eye—it's entirely possible the Dragon hasn't really recovered from the earlier spell. It might be a temporary distraction, though, so he simply continues as if nothing were amiss and waits to see how Soren responds.]

It's nice to have at least some concrete answers. Don't you think?

Hm? Oh... Yes.

[Clearly distracted. Soren hastens to drag himself out of the mire of his thoughts to become present again, even if he's not all that put together. He's grateful that Ferran's last question was easy to latch onto, even if his response didn't emerge all that heartfelt or decided. What he has in mind, well... at the time, he wished he never found out. In the end, however, he was glad to discover more about himself, glad that it didn't change anything about how the only person whose opinion of him really mattered felt. In fact, it made him feel better than before about where he stood with him. Comprehending the truth is always better than being led around by lies. As a tactician, he knows the benefits of accurate information well, no matter the discomfort or unease it may cause.

Relaxing some, he settles his arms atop the table. A glance down at his scaled hands, sharp fingernails, and the beginnings of fins on his forearms currently obscured by dark sleeves prompts another jolt of surprise, followed by a shake of his head as he recognizes how ridiculous it is to be shocked that he'd become something more than... a child of the mark. Or was he still that, and his blood had simply been compelled to express his parentage a little differently? Ah... his parents. They were...

Soren catches himself tumbling back down and scrambles to think of something, anything to say.]

I... understand.

[Oh... Once again, Soren seems taken off-guard by himself, revealed by a quicker pace of blinking. It's not often that he so freely offers to disclose such sensitive information about himself, especially to someone he only just ran into less than ten minutes ago. Could he excuse himself? Or would that only whet the stranger's curiosity even more? He laces his fingers together and chooses to focus there.]

Well, maybe I don't. Forgive me. I have been very confused lately.

[He's sure that's been made apparent by now.]

[Ferran's response comes with a sympathetic chuckle. He's seen nothing worth apologizing for, honestly, but plenty to be concerned about; being startled by your own hands isn't the best indication of a sound mind.]

That's alright. I've woken up in the street before, not really sure what was happening, myself. It's not exactly an easy experience.

[Ferran doesn't know or even guess that Soren's problems have been caused in part by manipulation of his memories, although he certainly knows his own were. He wouldn't want anyone to be able to relate to either, but the world isn't always so kind—whatever world it happens to be.]

But if you do understand, I'm sorry you've had to deal with something like that.

[More to the present, though, he decides on another wellness check that doubles as the reciprocation his Fae nature requires:]

What's your name?

[Soren scrutinizes the disguised Fae as he levels his sympathies, as if trying to ascertain whether there's some hidden motivation pushing his patience and understanding, or whether he's even telling the truth about sharing a similar experience. It's an easy scenario to pair with the story he had already given him about his background prior to coming here, so there's even less reason to doubt him. What's more difficult to accept is being treated nicely, even when there really isn't much to it.]

I am Soren.

[Considering the young and scared frame of mind he'd just been escorted from, he's glad that came so easily to him. Barring the mnemonic slips and pitfalls he struggles with mid-conversation, he is feeling much more calm and adjusted than he was moments ago. Still, he's itching to go home and stay there for a good while, and doesn't intend to stay and chat for too long... but he'll make what use of it he can to exercise what used to be one of his best talents.]

Your name was... [He focuses.] No, please don't tell me. I have to remember on my own. ... Viren? [Mortifying. He rests his temples into his digging hands.] No, no, that wasn't it...

[temptation to Just Leave rising]

[There are a lot of things Ferran would lie about, but making up more terrible things to have gone through isn't exactly something he'd find appealing, when just regular sympathy would do. He honestly just treats everyone nicely, until they prove themselves to be worth hating. (Or worth teasing.)

Soren may not want the full answer, but the Fae thinks it's fair to give him at least some encouragement; he seems like he needs it.]

You're halfway there.

[This is so stupid. Why is he so stupid?]

...Eren.

[This particular name takes the dragon by surprise. He lifts his head from his palm-cradle and shakes it, immediately figuring out which wires got crossed.]

No, you're definitely not Eren. You're... [sigh!] Oh, I can't believe this. Ferran, right? Ugh. Why do so many people have names that end in some variation of 'ren', anyway? Please tell me I've got it by now.

[After a brief laugh at the Dragon's exasperation, Ferran decides to cut short any further suspense. The guy is having a hard enough time.]

You got it. [Does Soren know a Viren and an Eren here, he wonders? They are fairly similar names, regardless, so the mistake is an understandable one.]

You're included in that, too. But it is a good question.

I know. [It's a reminder of something, a fact that strikes him like a lightning bolt of chagrin... or a big stupid hand trying to give him a noogie.] There is... was? There was even another Soren here once, too. Viren's son. He was annoying. I didn't like him.

[who do you like, you misanthropic little grump]

We may have shared a name, but our personalities were nothing alike.

[The Fae is honestly just glad to hear his new acquaintance talking about himself; he'd wondered how difficult it was going to be to learn anything about the other Mirrorbound. Plus, he judges plenty of people too...]

I've never met another Ferran, myself, but I'd be even more surprised if I met one from a different world entirely. [And to get a better idea of how to stay on the Dragon's good side...] How was he annoying?

[Soren looks suddenly about as fed up as he did when he was across from Soren #2. What were they arguing about again? Who the "real" Soren was? Maybe he was just as stupid for even deigning to prolong a conversation with him.

He sighs.]

He was a sword-swinging meathead with the proportions of a young man and the maturity of a five-year-old. He also began to treat me like one.

[A kid, that is. It's coming so clearly to him; why...]

Of all things, I am remembering this...

[He's a little amused that the topic seems to have exasperated Soren; it seems like a light enough irritation to not truly leave the mood of the conversation sour. He rests his chin against a gloved hand as he replies.]

Sometimes you have to remember the worst so you can appreciate the better things, I think.

[Ferran wouldn't apply that to himself, but it seems like a decent enough platitude to express in this case. He would prefer to keep all his memories in order himself, admittedly, though not for appreciation's sake.]

Then if someone else annoys you, you can tell yourself "at least it's not that other Soren."

[Part of the exasperation couldn't be blamed on the other Soren, for memory problems are far worse than the remembrance of a moron who happened to share his name, which was a novelty in and of itself. He streaked across his life and scarcely impacted it, like so many others.

Ferran's optimistic platitude does not appear to inspire Soren whatsoever. He doesn't smile or nod or acknowledge the remark with anything but his humorless stare. It is at this point that he begins to feel how drained he is, socially speaking, and faltering mentally before someone he just met over something as simple as a name, however understanding of his affliction he presents himself to be, hadn't felt good either. After a beat, he glances down at his haul, rises from his seat, and begins collecting them in a more organized manner than permitted to him in the midst of a busy street.]

I ought to be going, now. Thank you for your help. The next time we cross paths, let's hope that I will be more in tune with myself.

[There's certainly a hint of disappointment in Ferran's response after a brief pause, where he considers encouraging Soren to rest for a few more minutes. That exhaustion is apparent enough, though, so he'd just be making things more difficult, most likely...]

... Well, alright. I'll look forward to it. Take care until then.

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February Fallout + March Catchall

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thanks for the earworm infestation

:)

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