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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[A Witch... Soren glances at the mirrors perched along the walls behind the creature of innumerable and mysterious identities and is reminded firmly that he is in a place called Aefenglom, severed from his ties to a world full of beorc and laguz to begin with. He fills his lungs and dispels the air in a steady stream, dropping the hand at his hip to stand up a little straighter. His expression is finally humbled by shame.]

...Forgive me. I was clearly confused...

[A Mirrorbound... That means he can be anything beyond his wildest imagination, really. His curiosity is tempted further.]

You clearly were.

[He doesn't mention whether or not he accepts the apology, but he doesn't dismiss it outright. Now quite sure that he isn't going to lash out, Mogget moves closer to peer into the mirror that Soren had been so adamantly arguing with.

The cat can see nothing reflected in it that he didn't expect, but he knows how the magic here works and that just because he can see nothing... it doesn't mean that there is nothing there.]

Who were you speaking to?

[The draconic boy goes silent for a few pensive beats and a languid turn of his head toward the mirror. His mirror. His reflection, made grotesque by the influence of the full moons. He must not forget what he is or why.]

Myself.

[Admitting he was doing something as unhinged as talking to himself is far easier when he'd been caught babbling to his own reflection like the lunatic he's become. Moreover, he doesn't care what this cat-witch or whatever he is thinks of him.]

Yourself? Hm.

[There are things said about people like that, but then again, humans could be such peculiar creatures. Not that he could entirely say that this one was human to begin with. It gets harder to tell as things progress. The tip of his tail flicks a few times, and he doesn't level the amount of judgement at Soren for admitting what he was doing as Soren may have expected him to.]

It sounded like a gripping conversation. [He muses then, considering what was said as he walked in.] My most engaging conversational companion has most often been myself.

[Soren's posture tightens and chills, his shoulder pointed at Mogget. The reflection frowns.]

And you won't find one in me. I have nothing of interest to say to you.

[To most people, that would sound very much like they were being dismissed and the conversation was over. It's just as well that Mogget doesn't care about those kinds of things, and he isn't done yet.]

I'll be the judge of that.

[He gives his own reflection a look. A small white cat. Slightly faded in the mirror, but his green eyes seem to glow back at him.]

You're becoming more interesting by the moment.

...

[Soren treats him to a spell of silence, as if to remind him that he doesn't have to indulge his curiosity, exaggerated or not, if he doesn't want to. His terms. He considers vacating the Looking-Glass House, but the idea of it sends him reeling with uncertainty. Changing his environment often led to different stimuli, different reminders that could drag his sense of time and space astray again. Right here, beyond this pane of reflective glass, lies everything he once was but cannot return to. Things he keeps forgetting, even the most important.

The full moons make it even harder to get a grip. The stillness and tranquility, the quiet refuge of the house of mirrors, dampens that effect somewhat.

But he's relatively stable now that he's recovered from his blooper, and speaking to others has helped him sort out his messy thoughts before. Mogget annoys him, but not enough to force him to either chase him out or risk the consequences of stepping outside and getting funny notions about where he should be going or what he was last doing. Besides, his own curiosity in the cat-shaped witch still lingers. After several beats, he finally replies, his eyes meeting the reflected reflection of Mogget's.]

I'm just trying not to go madder than I already am. That's all there is to this idiotic display you walked in on me performing. Besides, I would wager that you are a more interesting figure than me. First of all, you make yourself sound ancient.

[Mogget does not seem to mind the silence at all and barely moves during it. Indeed one might think him a statue, albeit an incredibly life-like one, if they happened to see him and not look too closely. Now and then, he ruins the illusion by slowly sweeping his tail across the floor, from one side of his body to the other.

If he was to say he wasn't affected by the full moons himself he would be lying, but Mogget has many, many years of practice in keeping his emotions in check.]

I am ancient.

[He pauses for a moment, lifting one paw up off the floor and cleaning the small pink paw-pads with his small pink tongue.]

More so than almost all things in my world.

[There's some irony in the way this primordial being announces this while bathing himself like the unassuming cat he presents himself as, making it all the more a ridiculous sight to behold. Soren hardly doubts his claim, not when his mind is stretched wide enough to encompass the possibilities of just about anything.]

What are you called?

You can call me Mogget.

[The way he says that - as he always says it - implies very much that 'Mogget' is not his real name, but simply what he goes by to everyone. It's the only name he's going to give right now, in any case.]

And what should I call you?

[A little on the pink nose for a name. It doesn't answer his question in the slightest, but Soren is not so desperate for the real answer that he goes out of his way to pursue it any more than that at the moment.]

Soren.

[He could be entirely desperate for the answer and still not get it - even those people who Mogget marginally considers friends have no idea of the name he was created with.]

Soren. [He'll remember.]

Who were you talking about?

[Silence pervades as Soren reflects. Searching for thoughts in the turbidity of his ordinarily clear and sharp mind proves difficult. His brow cinches in focused confusion as he dredges up the bitter thoughts he was having only minutes prior to Mogget's appearance.

It would be easy enough to dismiss the magical cat and remind him that his business is his own, but Soren falls not to those usual dismissive tactics this time. No. His foggy memory swirled further by the influence of the full moon frustrates him too much. He must triumph over himself and the damage wrought upon him for fear that one of the qualities that made him most instrumental to Ike and his company would disappear.

As it turns out, the thought he left behind was a troubling one, and pain carves its way onto the dragon's face in a flicker of time, legible to those perceptive enough and quite capable of seeing in wan light.]

My commander... Yes, I'm sure that was it. Ike. [His eyes trace the mirror's frame that only he can see. Where was he? Why isn't he by his side? His pulse begins to storm his chest.] Please remind me what I was saying. I'm not... quite with it tonight.

[The cat seems content with the silence. He sits quietly, sometimes looking at Soren and sometimes not. At one point, he turns his attention to cleaning his front paws. Given he hasn't been asked to leave... and if it was demanded, he likely would refuse anyway... he doesn't go anywhere.

But then Soren speaks up again and Mogget looks his way, blinking slowly.]

"He is not here. He never was."

[That had been it.]

Though you didn't sound as if you believed it.

...

[ Mogget drills to the pith of his problem, dipping Soren into addled contemplation again as he tries for what seems the hundredth time to sort something out that he had already set into place.

He is not here, but he wants him to be. He always had. What feels as far away ago as years yet as soon as yesterday, he had hallucinated his presence in this world with such harsh lucidity, and time after time he had tried to dismiss it as his heart leading his Bondless, moon-crazed mind down a spiral of purposeless madness. At times like these, he wonders about that. Wonders if the man who snuck flowers in his hair really had seen Ike in those dreams, wonders what happened to him there... and now that he's recovering from tainted memories, wonders whether he died there or here, has trouble separating truth from fiction... he can't even believe what he thinks is right anymore. Was he here all along?

The fierce dragon begins to quiver. The urge to go "home" arises, but he can't quite pinpoint where "home" might be. The time of the month complicates things further. He sighs to self-sooth, to shake the mounting anxiety from caving him in, and sharp claws grip the side of his arm. ]

... You have the right of it. No matter what I tell myself, what reason I wield, my doubts continue to resurface. I'm no good this way. I... can't do anything. I cannot even exist peacefully. I want... to go to sleep. Before I make another stupid, crazy mistake.

That is the wisest thing I've heard you say so far.

[There's no real malice in his tone as he says that, only the simple certainty that what he is saying is true. Or, at least, that he believes what he is saying is true. He watches the way Soren's claws gently dig against his arm and the tip of his tail slowly flicks from side to side.]

But sleeping here wouldn't be a good idea.

[Not least for the discomfort of it, but also because it seems to be very much the current source of Soren's distress. Mogget stands up.]

Where do you live.

[Soren's pause may be in part borne of his hesitance in letting strangers know where he dwells, but more critically it's due to racking his brain for knowledge that should come easily to him. He grimaces to himself, lifts his head to pine for a reality beyond his troubled reflection, casts away certain truths by doing so and then sends his solemn gaze out into the milky wash of the Coven grounds. He buries just how at a loss he is with peremptory refusal of assistance.]

If you are offering to escort me, there is no need to trouble yourself. I... [Yes, that's right. A reassuring reminder in the lithe silhouette of a cat helps to stabilize his bearing.] I have someone I can rely on and call upon. He knows where I live.

[And suddenly, so does he. But who knows how long his slippery brain cells will hold onto that information? If Mogget serves as a reminder, then... maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to let him tag along lest he forgets? Then it would also save poor Ranulf the trouble.]

But... hmph. It might not be a bad idea to have someone talk sense into me when I need it. It's up to you.

I already made the offer. Don't ask me to repeat myself.

[Mogget stands up, streatches, then walks towards the exit with his tail held high. As he walks, the bell around his neck lets out a somniferous little chime and clinks gently against the green witch-focus pendant hanging beside it.]

Come along, then.

[Offering to walk someone home isn't within Mogget's usual motivations, but he finds something about Soren to be interesting enough that he isn't done with him quite yet.]

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February Fallout + March Catchall

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