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.]
4
When the shrieking starts he finally moves, making his way quickly towards the noise. What he finds when he arrives at its source is, really... no surprise at all.]
Have you considered a different kind of magic?
[It might be difficult to tell where the voice is coming from at first. Only a small number of the Coven witches in the room have seen him before.]
This one doesn't seem to be your strength.
no subject
It's cantrips, [Midousuji gripes, voice low and deep, clearly displeased. he pulls at his lower eyelid, his ego coming back to him after that scare had shocked him somewhere small within himself, and it's bruised and annoyed. his tone, implies, of course, that if he can't get the hang of Cantrips, regardless of the type, since they're kind of all-rounded base magics... he's probably fucked.]
I don't know if another type would be much different...
[not that Midousuji's not gonna try, though he's clearly still a little shaken up. as, you know, demonstrated by the way his arm is a little shaky where it supports his palm, rested on the side of his face.]
Grosssss... Gross, gross, gross, gross...
[Midousuji's trying to consider what else he could try, not per se discouraged—but certainly irritated.]
no subject
Midousuji's overall behaviour (the tics, the fluctuations of his voice) does do something to immediately tip Mogget off to the fact that not all is as it seems here, but it only serves to make him more curious.]
Are cantrips so important that attempting something else is out of the question?
[And he sits down a few feet away, his bright green eyes fixed on the boy with intense curiosity.]
You might try something less likely to set you on fire.
no subject
...No, [Midousuji answers with a hard stare, and he bites at the tip of his finger, worrying the cloth in the blunt, straight pinch of his teeth. his gaze casts off, looking caught somewhere between fretful and irritated.] But cantrips are necessary to get the hang of before you can really do anything else with any iota of competency, isn't it.
[Midousuji pushes himself up with his other hand, slowly hunching his broad back as he settles into a sitting position. his knees lift.]
...Something less likely to set me on fire sounds like a good, obvious idea... [Midousuji glares resentfully, but not quite at Mogget, mostly because he's electing to neglect eye contact. he taps his teeth.] but anything could potentially blow up in your face like that, couldn't it?
[Midousuji tilts his head at the cat, and...... finds himself happy to be looking at Mogget after all, so he settles to rest his cheek against his bony knees, head tilted as his arms setting around his wiry shins.]
Maybe less literally, but couldn't you say all this stuff is dangerous?
You sound experienced.
no subject
[He agrees, informs - however this interesting young man wants to take it. When Midousuji settles with his arms wrapped around himself Mogget moves a little closer, sitting down about three feet away from him and curling his tail around his front paws.]
And I am experienced. Both here and elsewhere.
[No one here yet knows what Mogget truly is. A creature born of free magic. Chaos in conscious form. Oh, the ruin he could cause if he had his true shape and power here.
He half closes his eyes for a moment, as if intending to blink but aborting the decision, then looks up again.]
A cantrip still requires focus, regardless of what you are trying to achieve with it. [And then, after a moment.] Do you know what you want to make the magic do?
no subject
or maybe—
Midousuji's eyes widen as he blinks with Mogget's question, tilting his head severely as his thin fingertip yanks down his lower lip, exposing the bottom of his gums, appearing thoughtful.]
I wanted it to make a small flame... That was my goal. Just light the wick... I imagined it lighting that way so clearly in my mind... A gentle little light, the size of my pinkynail...
But maybe a more genuine part of me wanted something disastrous and powerful, so that won. That's where I'd eventually like to end up, after all.
[what a thing to admit so frankly.]
no subject
[The young man is honest about his intentions, and Mogget can appreciate that even if it causes some worried looks from the people around him. He glances about the room, then back up at Midousuji.]
Have you considered practicing outside?
[Just a thought.]
If you have your aim in mind but aren't occupied with potentially setting the ceiling on fire, it might be easier to control your impulses.
no subject
he's finding maintaining eyecontact with an animal is way easier than with a human. go figure]
Well, I came to the Coven for an idea of how to begin practicing on my own. I guess I could try anyways, but it's kind of like... training wheels...
I guess I could practice that one outside.
no subject
[Give the people in here a chance to clean up. Not that that is any of Mogget's concern - he just wants this noisy person far away from where he's trying to study.
Learning new things is a novelty that doesn't quickly wear off when you're as old as Mogget.]
In fact, I'm surprised no one else suggested it sooner. Maybe one of the people here can accompany you.