Midousuji Akira (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
discarding) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2021-03-12 08:45 pm
discarding) wrote in middaeg2021-03-12 08:45 pm
[OPEN] midousuji march catch-all
Who: Midousuji Akira
When: all of March!
Where: Aefenglom various. atm Midousuji is too weak + meek to venture
What: slice of life with a weird + huge/man-shaped toddler, and also, Midousuji tries magic
Warnings: none!
2: SUSPICIOUS (BUT PERHAPS, DELICIOUS?) TEA
3: CYCLIST MANSPLAINS WITH INHUMAN SHRIEK
4: BABY MAGIC FOR BABY IDIOTS
When: all of March!
Where: Aefenglom various. atm Midousuji is too weak + meek to venture
What: slice of life with a weird + huge/man-shaped toddler, and also, Midousuji tries magic
Warnings: none!
[Midousuji had busily spent the first week or two of his arrival oscillating between frenetic, ceaseless investigation of the premise of these new, awful surroundings, and collapsing from overwhelming and sudden apathy when struck by the paralyzing belief that this all may simply be some awful invention of his unconscious mind, with Midousuji wasting away in a coma with some severe brain injury. if the latter were true, then why waste the energy on trying to get to the bottom of things? but on the other hand, was there anything more tortuous than doing nothing?1: CUNES CAN BE EXCHANGED FOR GOODS AND SERVICES
sure, Midousuji was used to tuning out between races—but that was a standby mode between races. between purpose! and there is no purpose here. so maybe he has to do...something. but maybe not necessarily all of this exhausting alternation between research and existential frustration. Midousuji's decided it's definitely also a lack of exercise—the bulk of his natural, overabundant energy is usually exhausted through training or racing... and he's just been on his ass.
so, in a center cycle between states of mania and defeat, Midousuji decides to, for now...do some shit. but he isn't excited about it.]
1st wk; midousuji covets a clock
[Midousuji walks aimlessly around Aefenglom, and though he knows he should for the sake of orientation, he can't bring himself to take into stock the scenery around him. first of all, this place is so vile it doesn't deserve the grace of his cognizant filing (for now—it's not that Midousuji expects redemption of Aefenglom in that regard, but he knows he's going to have to be aware in detail of his surroundings in short order so as to not be as vulnerable). second of all, it's too much. Midousuji still feels stretched thin and at capacity with what he can fully absorb without his mind ripping in half, at least self aware enough to understand he is perilously teetering on some kind of edge.
Midousuji shambles down the cobblestone streets of Aefenglom, and eventually finds his interest, finally, pulled by a shop. maybe a furniture store, or a bit more miscellaneous—but either way, the thing that draws in his attention is a handsome, but simple, pendulum. it’s decently large, and its metal findings are brassy, the wood dark but not too worn. despite its old design, probably a recent make given the general age of this world’s setting. Midousuji stares, transfixed by its timely swing—through the glass, he can’t hear it, but he’s sure there’s probably a mechanical little click with each swing.
he doesn’t realize it’s already been five minutes that he’s been staring before he finally gives a slow tilt of his head, eyes wide. it’s entrancing, suffice to say—his mouth slightly hung open beneath his mask, it’s already another 12 minutes that pass and Midousuji doesn’t even seem to be aware. the shop-keeps seem a little unnerved by the vaguely haunted vibe of the tall, hunched figure boggling at their wares, his face coming increasingly close to the glass.
one of the keeps tentatively steps outside, and Midousuji doesn’t acknowledge them. tentatively, they try:] “Good afternoon to you, sir! Are you interested in that pendulum? You have a good eye! It’s a craft of yesteryear by Hoffmier...”
[Midousuji distantly registers them, then, and though he doesn’t move his head to face them, his eyes slowly drift in their direction, and the keep’s body language tenses a little, their polite smile a bit strained.]
“Under certain circumstances, it’s an excellent conduit, as well. Such is part of the signature of his designs,” [they mention, and Midousuji has no idea what they mean.] “A mere 7,000 cunes, if you’re interested.”
[Midousuji blinks slowly, then straightens up, head still tilted, eyes still fixed on the pendulum.] I have no money, [Midousuji answers, his deep voice low and quiet, just loud enough for the keep to hear through the gentle muffling of his mask.]
“Ah, is that so...”
[Midousuji knows by then, as polite behavior dictates from what he’s been programmed to understand, he should probably just go. but. he doesn’t. because he can’t seem to pull himself out of the trance. and so too, the keep doesn’t quite yet leave, trying to figure out how to get a sale out of him, maybe mentioning how they’d be happy to hold it if Midousuji wants to go home and retrieve his purse.... meaning, of course, they’ve misunderstood; Midousuji is utterly without money.]
2: SUSPICIOUS (BUT PERHAPS, DELICIOUS?) TEA
later same day; midousuji covets tea
[after whatever the hell happens at the previous shop, Midousuji, through whatever means after, ends up at a tea shop. it’s a little bit similar, initially—him bending this way and that at the lower bit of his spine, reading curiously about the offered products. it’s mostly black tea, as suspected, but of course, it’s a different world—there’s a lot of associated qualities Midousuji doesn’t understand, nor trust. but just as he’s apparently longing for some opportunity to burn an hour or two staring at a pendulum to calm and empty his head, tea has a similar appeal, though Midousuji might not be self-aware enough of himself in the moment to realize that he’s being hooked by old lures of comfort.
when he’s invited in again (this time at a time mark sooner than about 20 minutes), Midousuji lifts a gloved finger to slowly peel down his mask, still hunched at the window at an uncomfortable, sideways angle. he says again that he doesn’t have any money—he’s just looking. but he’s invited in for some samples.
Midousuji enters, his presence and size both seeming almost small, and is a little hesitant once directed towards the samples as the sales person walks him through the types.]
I don’t know... [Midousuji’s hand curls uncertainly at his collar, and he blinks.] I’m not from this place... [as if that isn’t abundantly obvious, given his attire.] I don’t know what they...do.
[maybe another Mirrorbound who happens to be more versed in tea, magical or otherwise, would be willing to break it down in language Midousuji better understands? you know. for better or for worse. his influence is (potentially) yours.]
3: CYCLIST MANSPLAINS WITH INHUMAN SHRIEK
2nd wk; (quest) pennyfarthings are traditionalist capitalist propaganda
[Midousuji now has desire for two things that he cannot obtain at present: a pendulum (potentially), and tea. so with similar dragging chagrin, Midousuji lugs his unwilling person to the quest boards, and puzzles over them. so many of the posted jobs, as expected, are not only out of his present depth—but his present understanding. frustrating.
then his eyes widen a little, shocked by perhaps the only stroke of any kind of divine luck he’s had in his time since arrival. if this is a coma dream, it makes sense that his interests would squeak in somewhere, he supposes—and specifically, it’s an ad for people to antagonize wealthy, stupid people for riding stupid, expensive bikes with no purpose or utilitarian appeal. almost as though to check he isn’t hallucinating, Midousuji inspects the posting closely, yanking his lower eyelid down by his thin, gloved fingertips, wide eyes stuck in disbelief on the ad. his tongue unfurls more than just a few inches beyond what’s humanly appropriate beyond his jaw, and he tilts his head so suddenly that his neck pops.
yes! this!!
it probably won’t be great—the bikes that he counts as superior for six thousand and twenty eight reasons don’t exist, here. but that’s more than enough to tear down simple competitors. even if he isn’t confident he could up-sell the quality of Aefenglom’s superior (and vastly, vastly inferior, according to his own world’s models) makes, nor is he...um...good with people (and that’s subjective, right? he’s good at manipulating and scaring people, in the right circumstances)... he’s more than confident he could campaign against the dreaded.... Pennyfarthing bicycle.
once Midousuji is enlisted, he can be found outside of the corresponding shop, bent severely so that his back makes a dramatic, nigh-improbable “C” shape as he points at some passer-by on one of the said stupid luxury bicycles.]
Is there anything more impractical?! [Midousuji shrieks to his captive audience, then suddenly bends his back far in the other direction, contorted so that the crown of his head is almost level at the small of his back. he just as suddenly, with a disturbing snap and squelch of his spinal fluids (audible, yes, horrifyingly), Midousuji is mostly in proper posture, pointing now at his onlookers.]
First of all, what is the practicality in the height?! If you fall from these stupid things, perilous injury is gauranteed! These models—[Midousuji squints in disdain for the nomenclature of the modern bicycle’s ancestor, but pushes through regardless,]—“safety bicycles”—ensure similar speed and comfort, without the risk!!—Of bodily harm, or bodily stupidity, such as looking like a [and Midousuji’s head snaps back, though his posture is still, um. almost normal.] STUPID SOUP-BRAIN!!
[his head goes back into a mostly normal position, squinting distrustfully among his crowd.]
Fashion is a symptom of idle society!! Do you want to be like these people!? Concerned with appearances—and to what end!? You realize how foolish a pedaller of a Pennyfarthing looks, don’t you!? Remove the wool from your eyes! High class society undulates the masses with unflattering, stupid trends, only because the rich sets the precedent! Their producers may call them “ordinary” bicycles, but they’re the old-blood, inferior genome to the greater potential!!
[Midousuji pauses, then suddenly smiles in a way that’s...supposed to be pleasant, but is still quite unnerving, softening his tone to a malicious, sing-song lilt.] So please check out the “safety” bikes of this humble shop—physics are on their side, and they are the seed of efficiency to come. Don’t be swallowed by the embarrassing annules of time.
[Midousuji gives an unnerving giggle, stifled childishly behind his fingers.] Trust me. I’m from the future, in the world of cycling. An invaluable seer.
4: BABY MAGIC FOR BABY IDIOTS
3rd wk; midousuji almost lights his (entire) face on fire
[eventually, when Midousuji peels himself off the floor of his current given quarters like an over fried egg to a skillet, he decides, with great, irritated defeat to maybe pop down by the Coven. he doesn’t need money to practice at the Coven. he talked a big game of buckling down on magical studies, and he hasn’t done a single thing to follow up with that, aside from haunting the library over so many (so...MANY) books—not that he owes a bunch of random assholes on the Aefenglom Mirrorbound network any kind of follow-through, but even he feels like an asshole asserting great claims with no follow through.
and, regrettably, there is just jack-shit else to do; after some conversations on the network, Midousuji has the seeds of mild doubt about whether or not pursuing magic with vigor is the true path back home. there are tons of more magical, more wise, and possibly? quite intelligent people who haven’t had any luck... but that doesn’t mean he can’t try. he’s always been Different, so maybe that’ll work out in his favor.
turns out, it doesn’t—at least not initially. maybe he can get there. but as dreaded—and anticipated, it’s...not intuitive at all. because nothing is, outside of cycling, and even that had one hell of an uphill (ha) battle involved into kinetic fluency.
currently, Midousuji is practicing some very simple cantrip magic. which he’d been briefed on, a couple days after his initial arrival. he’s familiar. he’s read about them, too—to great extent. but texts are only so useful. every Witch’s mileage may vary with regards to mitigating magic, especially for Mirrorbound, as the parameters of their navigation around magic are so much more hazy and puzzling. so though he’s rehearsed it a thousand times in his mind, using the stupid wand provided as training wheels for channeling, Midousuji’s hands and arms carry a slight tremor. his flesh beads with sweat, already having annoying, nervy flashbacks to failing his physical education coaching as a child, setting his teeth to be grit taut, lips around drawn out in an exaggerated, anxious sneer.]
“Yes, yes, good! Like that. Don’t be so nervous,” [the Witch reassures, immediately earning Midousuji’s most venomous, corner-of-the-eye glare.] “This is one of the easiest spells for even novices to get the hang of, so don’t hesitate.”
[but Midousuji does. because what does that even MEAN? once again, an infuriating discrepancy between native Witches and the lack of data around Mirrorbound. he can’t even ask; he knows she won’t be able to answer. he’s currently trying to conjure a little flame to the pert, waiting wick of a candle. a simple evocation spell for things like starting fires, lighting torches, and all that...
but determined to press forward, Midousuji nervously mutters the previously practiced incantation (rehearsed a few times before this practical attempt)—and once emitted, the...candle in question, inexplicably, becomes like a furious hydrant of flame, booming so vigorously that the plate setting of the candle shakes.
Midousuji’s eyes widen and he shrieks as he falls backwards, dropping his wand, immediately pressing his hands against his orbital sockets. both as a practiced reflex of comfort, but because...distinctly, his eyebrow burns; the hairs coil and wither above his right eye, and Midousuji screams, then hisses through his teeth as he kicks his legs, scrubbing harshly at the sensitive, hot skin with his gloved palm. the flames peter out into a voluptuous billow of black clouds, and the Witch tutoring Midousuji nervously crouches beside him, her assistants dealing with the magic cast to get it under control. Midousuji’s mollars grind as he wheezes dryly and in frustration, the collar of his shirt cooling with singed, sooty holes. it’s only then that he notices that his shirt was briefly on fire, since, you know, his face was first.]
no subject
His eyes narrow, but he manages to push down the instinct to bare his teeth. At least it seems the overenthusiastic shopkeeper(?) has realized he shouldn't touch random stranger's faces. Waver considers taking another step back anyway, just in case, rocking his weight slightly back on his heels. ]
So...
[ That's a lot of words for a whole lot of nothing, isn't it? ]
It's just a perfectly regular bicycle, then.
no subject
Anywhere but this stupid, GROSS place.
The point being, [Midousuji asserts with sassy emphasis, head snapping sideways again, almost hissing.] that yes, a rustic, primitive ancestor of the modern bicycle in its clunky infancy is better than [his long arm whips sideways to point at the unnerved offender originally in question.] a stupid biggy-wheel Pennyfarthing. Who even knows what bikes are like in your world anyway, I guess.
[Midousuji straightens back up again, his expression becoming mostly vacant—his tone is still a bit sensational, though.]
So indeed! It's as you say! Which makes it even more stupid, doesn't it?? Of course, it isn't my job to disparage the product; it's unfair to compare it to its advanced predecessors in this context! But even this bike is six-hundred-and-fifty-eight percent better!
no subject
He snorts, shaking his head. ]
They're normal. Kinda like these. Even-sized wheels, if that's what you're asking.
Throwing out numbers that exact, you certainly make it sound as though you're some bicycle expert. Or are you making it all up, and they hired you because you're loud?
no subject
Can't it be both? You sound like you have a weak imagination.
[Midousuji curls his fingers in front of his grinning teeth, where he stifles a laugh, his brows slanting backwards as he tilts his head. he wonders if this guy's being bold. insulting Midousuji because of Midousuji's unpleasant, hostile and unconventional demeanor. or maybe he's just like that?]
I'm loud, smart, charismatic, and passionate. You know, about this kind of stuff, at least. Like me or leave me, I have the magnetism, and I have the knowledge!
no subject
Bicycles are all well and good, but the streets here are so bumpy. It's probably uncomfortable as hell.
No wonder you're having trouble selling them.
no subject
... Yeah, well, [Midousuji concedes, eyes rolling away as he tilts his head to the side, lifting a thin finger over his rows of straight teeth.] We aren't talking about that, [he says quietly, intending just for Waver to hear. he agrees. riding bikes in this place blows. it's not impossible, but difficult to do well—and, you know, pretty uncomfortable for the entirety of the pelvis. not a welcomed feature.]
Anyway, these people don't know any better, [he says lowly, his other fingers raising as he glances back at Waver, looking mischievous, like he's sharing a secret.
then, he looks pleased.]
Besides, I've sold a few. Better than what they've managed in a day for some time!
no subject
[ Waver still looks faintly uncomfortable, feeling caught in this conversation now and not entirely sure how to extricate himself from it. He rocks back on his heel again, considering just... stepping backward again? Turning around and walking away? He scolds himself for so foolishly letting his curiosity get the better of him to ask this weird long man a question. ]
I don't need a bike, though. Don't worry, I won't run off to buy one of the ugly ones either.
no subject
Oh, don't worry, you needn't convince me, [Midousuji jeers. he waves his hand dismissively.] You don't seem the athletic type. I'm not trying to sell you anything.
I was simply...reciprocating your engagement that you initiated, [he explains through a mean smile, fingers curling at his chin as his eyes narrow.] which is kinda funny. Engaging an obvious sales person with no intent to buy. How gross.
no subject
[ Wow, calling him gross? Has this guy even looking a mirror?? ]
If you want to sell more bicycles, I suggest not creeping out the customers.
Good day.