[OPEN] midousuji march catch-all

[discarding]

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!

[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?

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.]

1: CUNES CAN BE EXCHANGED FOR GOODS AND SERVICES

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.]

Comments

[towards_okeanos]

[Iskandar could tell the kid to stop being so dramatic about it, but then when did he ever pass the chance to be dramatic, hm? Though his style is definitely more boasting and less whining. Or rather, no whining at all.]

Well, what then to complain about? You have a goal and a path to it, even if you insist that you don't.

[Or maybe that's the point.]

Hate it as much as you like but focus. If you keep pouring all your discontent into it at once, the magic will keep blowing up in your face.

[He'd say use your hatred as fuel but at this point, he's not really sure if the kid would even get his comparison at all.]

[discarding]

[if Midousuji used his hatred as fuel, then the damage would probably be less severe than his discontent, at least. he has a lot of hate, but not as much as discontent. how about it.]

Hm...

[Midousuji tilts his head again, eyes narrowing as he thoughtfully picks at his lip, thinking. he hadn't been consciously focusing on his discontent. Midousuji is barely aware of it, but the truth is, Midousuji is constantly experiencing an absolute cacophony of emotions he merely doesn't let himself think about or look at too closely, effectively keeping himself in the dark about some of his own feelings.

discontent is not a sentiment he stifles, but it could be the extent of its breadth was overlooked just because of his tendency to look past his own feelings...

so what to do, then?]

Yeah, it's just a stupid goal, and a stupid path. Hardly something worth getting excited about.

But, there's cool stuff, too...

[Midousuji's jaw hinges open as his eyes wander towards the floor, eyebrows lifting, tension leaving his face completely.]

If I can just get the hang of the basic stuff, I'm really interested in some classes of magic specialty. It'd be really~ fun~ [Midousuji's expression is flat as he says this, but the melodic cadence of his voice sounds genuine. he glances back at Iskandar.]

What about you? You're surely a talent, given how annoying and preachy you are. [sounds sarcastic, but shockingly, it is not. Midousuji does legitimately have the impression Iskandar is an exceptional magic user.] What magic are you the most proficient with, in this place?

[towards_okeanos]

[There's something incredibly unsettling in a way this kid's expressions change. Iskandar can't truly locate what exactly is so weird about it... the closest he gets is to compare it with when one tries on an unfamiliar weapon. All moves come out as choppy and undirected when one is unpractised.]

Talent?!

[The assumption makes Iskandar boom with laughter. It would have made his life here so much easier.]

No, I have no innate talent for magic. All that I learned was out of necessity. I have little love for the craft, but it is useful, and I don't tend to forsake a tool that can give me an advantage just because I happen to not like it.

[He's not very discriminative in his means, as long as they get him results.]

That would be abjuration, healing and barriers.

[discarding]

[Iskandar's reaction is certainly justified, and expected—even though, hilariously, out of the breadth of Mirrorbound, Midousuji is the most "normal" and unremarkable as one could perhaps come, he inspires an uneasy feeling of uncanny valley—to the extent he might inspire doubt towards his truly ordinary parameters.

but hey, Iskandar isn't presently treating Midousuji that way, so...]

Haaa?

[Midousuji tilts his head, almost dropping it sideways and well below his collarbones, peering back with wide eyes through the space between his armpit and chest, the window provided from his severely bent posture.]

Healing? Abjuration???

[Midousuji's posture corrects abruptly, though he doesn't turn to look at Iskandar fully—but he looks at him as he hangs his head backwards, chin towards the ceiling, eyes wide with curiosity, the arm not handling his wand dangling loosely by a bony hip.]

You?

[that slack arm lifts to press its fingertips against a toothy smile, shoulders shaking in a little titter.]

Well, you can't judge a book by its cover, I guess...

[maintaining his pose, Midousuji's gaze drifts idly away.]

So you learned magic out of necessity... No passion to be found. That makes sense.

[all of Iskandar's annoying assertions... to Midousuji, they suddenly have context. they're the same. Midousuji has to do this, but has no motivation fueled by desire.]

Interesting...

To me... "talent" is just a skill compounded with a love for the pursuit in question... Outside of those parameters, it's only a skill. Natural gifts are imaginary; they're merely a subject of compatibility between work and desire.

[towards_okeanos]

[Iskandar laughs. He may warm up to the kid just yet! Eerie and weird as he is, he's got a good head on his shoulders and that matters to Iskandar more than some odd personal quirks.]

I have not heard talent being defined like that before. But you are not wrong. Love for the art and dedication to your craft will carry you far. The lack of those... well, not so much.

[Many would say he was naturally gifted in the art of war but what child can ever truly be? That he loved it, yes. From the youngest age. But he also had the advantage of education, training and an ample supply of excellent warriors and strategists to guide him.

The same cannot be said about magic. There he had one example, and not an example he was especially eager to follow.]

I pick what is most useful. I can fight on my own, I don't need to use magic for that. Healing though, oh that's something arcane arts can speed up considerably. It would be foolish to forsake such advantage.

[discarding]

...Useful... Fight...

[Midousuji narrows his eyes, scowling, tilting his head in confusion and curiosity around Iskandar's words. it makes sense to pick up magic where you lack otherwise, but what if you lack...everything? how do you pick? it's not as if Midousuji would expose himself like that by asking, but...

well, he's quite good with subterfuge. mind games. playing tricks on people, misleading. his eyes slowly widen back open, and he tilts his head in the other direction, his curiosity now colored by thoughtful consideration.]

I think...

[the way Midousuji opens this up, and begins to explain, is almost child-like; articulate to be sure, but kind of like he's figuring out how to say things as he says them. he speaks somewhat slowly and clearly as it is, but it becomes presently exaggerated. it's also a little bit of a shyness, though he'd never admit it, because he's presenting something only he thinks he can really understand. what's shaped his paradigms and strategies by being so...er, not like the other kids.]

...it makes sense, though... to bolster your existing strengths...

[offense that's more innocuous. something dirtier than simple spells that manifest explosions, or make you physically stronger. he's never been an overtly offensive person, traditionally speaking! Midousuji's eyes widen, his gaze becoming unfocused as he drags his hand down his face, dragging his eyelid down to expose its glossy pink.]

Though arguably unbalanced, being incredibly strong—stronger than anyone else—with one particular skill... can at times be far more impressive...

[Midousuji seems to snap his head out of wherever its gone, and he curiously inspects his wand again, debating cantrips again. foundational stuff. but it's becoming clear to him, suddenly: a trajectory!]

...But that's only true if you achieve that goal overwhelmingly, and successfully dominate.

[he glances at Iskandar, and his tongue extends to push the tip of the black-lacquered conduit in his thin, gloved hand, eyebrows raised with clarity]

I was like that at home.

I think you just gave me a really good idea.

[towards_okeanos]

[It is a little unsettling to see this thought process in action but Iskandar is no stranger to people thinking aloud with fragments of sentences trailing into nothing, cut short by another coming right after. As if their tongue could not keep up with their minds, and yet they felt the need to give those thoughts some semblance of tangible form.]

A risky approach, yes, but as long as one makes it work.

[Which is exactly what Midousuji says next, even without his interjection. He most likely hasn't heard it. No matter. Iskandar is no longer worried about the kid. Barring one singed eyebrow, he'd be fine.]

Have I really? Well, then I am glad.