February Fallout + March Catchall

[silentsavant]

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.

[[ Will also create custom starters or plot something different! Hit me up via wingything or discord (paingel#4140) or shoot me a PM if you want to hatch or discuss something! Please feel free to use script format in tags if that's what you prefer. ]]

Comments

[ranyaulf]

His question might've sent Ranulf emotionally reeling at one point, but perhaps the time spent recovering has brought him the same scenarios? Curiosities turning into possible futures, ones where they may not remember these times or perhaps where one might and one might not. But in this case for some reason, Ranulf is prepared to answer. There's a smile on his face, a slight twinkle in his eye... perhaps there's a little sadness that lingers about him. Nothing that overwhelms him or makes him second guess the present, or...

"It'll be the same if it's the other way around," he says with a gentle snort. "I'll never shut up about what happened, nothing left unsaid... and I mean nothing."

If Ranulf has to, he'll repeat the same stories. Every last one until the day he takes his final breath, until he goes blue in the face (to match his hair).

"Because we'll still follow the same path. We'll get there in time, just like we did here."

He reaches down, gently raises Soren's head by the chin with one finger, then takes his lips with his own. Softly, gently. Not a farewell kiss, but a 'happy to see you' one. Always happy.

[silentsavant]

After he relishes his kiss with subdued zeal, Soren snorts in wry mirth and finds the inner strength to take the bittersweet subject in stride. "I would think you suffered a head injury," he remarks, leaning his cheek into his lover's hand. "And good luck telling me everything without getting me to give you a real one. But over time, I..."

At some point, he would be hard-pressed to dismiss Ranulf's tales as lunacy or pranks. Knowing himself, he would resist him for some time. Years, potentially. But what does he know of himself anymore? If it's possible to open his heart to him here, it must be possible elsewhere.

"I'll have to come around eventually. It would be the truth, after all."

[ranyaulf]

He laughs, a bright sound that bounces off of each mirror, though he's quick to cover his mouth once he realizes how loud it is--- how somber the situation was, what it's like now. That it's felt like an eternity plus a day or two since he's had a reason to, and now that he's done it... he feels immense relief. The touch helps too, feeling the warmth of Soren's cheek in his hand, their bond bringing him the kind of peace he's been needing for some time.

"If and when you do, I give you permission to give me a few raps on the head. But not the ears."

With a toothy grin plastered on his face, the laguz gestures towards the exit of the house.

"I'm not sure if you're feeling hungry or not, but I was able to snag a dessert for us to share."

And it's not him! This time, at least.

[silentsavant]

Dessert? Soren's eyebrows lift at the change in topic, and then the soft smile returns as his thawed heart warms a degree further. It's not the idea of eating a sugary treat that he's hungry for, but the gesture itself and the company who wants to share in it.

"How sweet of you." He disconnects from his partner and partially faces the exit with his intent to leave. "When you say you 'snagged' them, you make yourself sound like a thief."

If a hapless patisserie is missing a few pastries from their window, Soren couldn't care less. All that would matter is that Ranulf didn't get caught. He doubts he actually stole anything, but it's still worth picturing the cat swiping sweets for the fleeting amusement of it. At any rate, he came here distressed, but it's certainly nice to leave it a little cheered up.