(semi-closed)

[foursakes]

Who: four + closed prompts
When: through august
Where: the daisy chain, the wilde, city wide.
What: some quests and closed prompts! i’d be happy to write one for you as well if you’re interested— feel free to contact me (liberos or owlie#3609) or hit up four’s plotting comment for the month!
Warnings: probably just some sickening inner dialogue, four is four.

Comments

@louis

[foursakes]

[ four hadn’t come here simply to get a job in delivering . . . packages. precognistitchin’ was the kind of shop that the intoner could be useful in, far more than taking dresses to and fro’ to their new owners.

no, if she could help it— her worth would show here. where no one sees, she fits tears into a vest sewn for a vampire (ugh, gross), frills, a skirt and an undershirt to match. four makes it look like an accident caused by another worker’s folly (because she’s truly that petty, and would go so far as to sabotage them to take their place). it works rather well, if four were one to say so. the worker in question is given delivery duty after so many errors. four volunteers: perhaps i can mend them for you, my lady? and so she’s given the chance.

someone had to model for her, this being sent to any of the hired ones to come with her for a moment. they had to match these measurements, and the first one to fit the bill is. that. was a deer. the manager had said his name, louis. what an absurdity. deer were made for the forests. and hunting. not modeling, but. four breathes in. and here goes. ]

Excuse me, [ she doesn’t touch or tap his shoulder. just her voice, sweet with caution, would do. ] would you spare a moment to model for me, Sir Louis? [ she bows her head, respectfully. ] The head-tailor said she would continue paying for your time spent, and . . . [ she gestures to the very many tears in the garments she holds in her hands. ] You would be of tremendous help to me and the owner of these.

[rightfoot]

[ Louis had busied himself with organizing things for his next couple of deliveries, having freshly returned from a couple of them. He wanted to ensure that everything arrived by the time expected by the appropriate people - if he wasn't able to get to them early. A couple of looks from others in the process of the deliveries- assuming that he had been here much longer than he had - stopped being surprising. Just a smile and a nod 'Yes, I'm new'.

He's quietly reading through some of the information for his next delivery when he's approached. He wasn't really prepared to model, either But, since he'll get paid for it as if he were doing deliveries, he didn't particularly mind. ]

Oh, alright. Louis is fine.

[ Glances at the tears. ]

What happened to that?

[foursakes]

[ she’ll lead him to where they need to be, then! although she’s constantly . . . glancing, and hopes that she could mask it well enough as simply trying to accompany his attention as they walk.

it might just be clear she’s never seen someone like him before. four clicks her tongue at the question, and shakes her head in dismay. ]

One of our workers . . . They were awfully neglectful. [ she sighs as she leads them to one of the corners meant for modeling, gesturing for the deer to step up onto the pedestal. ] It was almost as if they wanted to be sent away. Why not say so, then—?

[ who knows is the air she wants to give off. ]

I’m Four, by the way.

[rightfoot]

[ He follows her, but keeps a little distance between her and him, so not to crowd her at all. He doesn't want to get in a stranger's space. He notices the glances. For now, he doesn't say anything about it, but he gets an idea as to why they're happening. It's happened a bit since he arrived, and while it did bother him, it doesn't anymore. He's used to people turning to look at him, even at home. He steps up onto the pedestal, following her direction. ]

People make mistakes sometimes.

[ Oh! ]

Four. Nice to meet you, you already know who I am.

[ He shifts a little. ]

So, um. Would you like me to put that on? Or --

[ He doesn't have a clue. ]

[foursakes]

Likewise. Ah— Perhaps, [ she tries to motion, but. one look at those antlers again, even his weird looking human shaped hands that are way too unnatural, and she's shaking her head, holding the space of the dress out for him to step in. especially with a prosthetic limb. she tries not to stare. ] let me help you.

[ then he can fix whatever once it's on— she can't have him ruining it. four pulls up the fabric, and from behind him, begins tightening the laces that would mark his back. it's quite the beautiful dress! ]

A wise one once said: Once may be a mistake, twice is idiocy. What do you think of that?

@alex

[foursakes]

[ four has to sell some of these clothes she’s been stitching up, or perhaps even get a commission. so many dresses, lovely colors and fabrics, reds and greens. she has to bring attention the precognistitchin’s work (her work). so, she uses the one weapon that she has managed to clutch to her being— the power of song.

the siren hums, and the hum turns into a lovely song that captures the hearts of men and woman walking about the streets. many stay to take what she has and pay her plenty. that is— only those who aren’t sirens as well.

when alex walks closer to the stall, four sings louder, eyes observing her and dragging up and down her frame. she’s judging every bit of her, from her chest size to her curves, to her height and nails. she doesn’t show her a dress, but, ] My lady? [ she calls, a smile like honey dipped pastries. ] May I have a word?

[sing_for_me]

[ Alex hadn't realized she was charmed until the young woman spoke up. Even without the enchantment, the beauty of the tune and the song would have been enough to draw her in. But she snaps out of her revere, blinking a few times as she tries to focus on the person in front of her. ]

Oh-! Sorry, I didn't realize--

[ It was strange being on the other end of a charm. She tucks some hair behind a finned ear, a little embarrassed. She seems nice enough though. Maybe it was an accident? Lord knows she's done that a few times. ]

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you.

[foursakes]

I— I should be the one apologizing, actually . . . [ four’s chin dips, growing ten times more sheepish. she’s speaking to something that almost reminds her of a fish’s fins. ] I am the one keeping you from your time.

[sing_for_me]

[ Now she feels bad for making such a sweet girl feel bad. ]

Oh no, it's alright. I was--was that you singing? It was such a pretty song, I would have wanted to find out about it anyway.

[foursakes]

[ lol ]

I— Yes. It is a gift that I carry even a long way from home. [ she dips her head. ] I stopped you because, [ the fabrics in her hands are lifted. ] I saw this on you. I-It isn't because I'm trying to sell you anything, I just help with tailoring . . .

Would you, perhaps-?

@emil

[foursakes]

[ another day, and, look at her! she has steady income in! one would be proud. two would want one for her and say it was perfect (that loveydovey fool). three wouldn’t care. five would just throw it on the ground or burst the seams with her disgusting cow breasts. zero . . . zero would’ve liked them if she hadn’t changed so much. none of those outcomes satisfied her, and then again! they were stupid in their own right. she isn’t just waddling around. she’s here to try and get back, and to do that, she needs to live again. she needs clothes, and food, and to take care of herself.

nothing new. exercising her magic was a must if she ever hoped to cling to that part of herself. a melody comes from her, sugary and unnaturally enticing to the non-sirens that listen. was that all she could do? a bother. she’ll have to keep trying.

she stops singing when she catches sight of a boy— wrapped up in bandages and unable to see the light of day through them. the one in her dreams. the one where she was . . . monstrous, inside and out. she couldn’t hide that part of her she hated away from him. he knew her weakness. were there more people she could run into from that dream, then? he can hear her, certainly he can hear.

four continues putting the clothes she’s mended in boxes, and others out on display, though she doesn’t say a word, in hopes that the boy wouldn’t recognize her voice as she did him. ]

im sorry this is so late!!!

[petrifying]

<sub>[The thing though, is that to a boy who is blind, his ears are what guides him most of all. Over so many years of relying on his other senses they've become incredibly sensitive to the point there was no way he'd mistake Four's singing for an unfamiliar voice. It does take him aback though, as he sits himself out in the courtyard of the Coven, still not really sure what to do with himself. He hasn't wanted to bother people much, even though they've gone out of their way to help him orient himself at least around the academy. He'd become familiar with the small, temporary room he'd been housed in and with each day he grew his mental map of the layout of the place.

If this was to be the new reality he would be living in, especially without his butler or his friends to rely on, he needed to be as self sufficient as possible. Easier said than done, of course, considering his...affliction, but even so, the last thing Emil wants to feel is like he's a burden. The only thing worse is feeling like a threat.

So, when he hears the familiar voice he can't help but be drawn to it again, even if he can't really remember exactly where he's heard it before. Was it in a dream? He vaguely remembers as much...but that'd be silly, wouldn't it? Gingerly he follows his ears until he can hear someone busying themselves and nothing more. The song is gone, but he knows she isn't.]</sub>

Umm...hi! _{[Awkward but genuine, that's how Emil operates as he lifts a hand to give her a little wave in Four's direction.]} Your voice is really beautiful! I really liked the song you just sung.

_{[Even if the content of it was a bit...er, questionable.]}

no worries at all!!!

[foursakes]

[ jesus christ it was him. four continues to shuffle things along, glancing over occasionally in a way that shows very clearly to those around them— she knows he's talking to her, and she's choosing to not return the conversation.

or perhaps she's simply just trying to think. think of what to say. when another witch watches the one sided trade with furrowing brows, she takes action— as if she's been so rushed and oh she just forgot to . . . ]

I, [ she clears her throat. ] thank you, little one. [ fuk. plan b. ] Should you be walking around without your guardian in a city so vast—?

[petrifying]

Guardian?

_{[There's a cock of his head to the side, like a dog does when they're trying to understand. A moment later and he's shaking it, pressing the tips of his fingers together in front of him.]}

Oh, I don't have one here. I'll be okay though, as long as I don't wander too far.

[foursakes]

I . . . I see.

[ so far so good. act even more natural, says paranoid parrot. ]

“Here”— are you not native to here?

@viren

[foursakes]

[ the task was simple: bring food, water and other casting supplies into the wilde to secure at the cave’s base. there hadn’t been another person more suited for this roll, she figured, than the man she shared a dance with.

used to exploring, to scavenging and setting out for tasks that required energy as well as prowess, four comes prepared as much as she could. her strength isn’t the same, as is most of her song’s power (most— but she still has it), an intimidating clawed gauntlet covering one of her hands as she takes a handful of objects to stow away in a bag. scroll at the ready, everything else— good. ]

I take it you’re experienced in battle, Lord Viren?

[bloodwit]

[ and here's viren - perhaps overprepared. he'd pored through as many texts as time permitted these last few days, absorbing as much as knowledge as he could; this left him with ideas and possibilities and what-ifs, most of which would go unused. it'd been something of a challenge, balancing the necessities with the "could be" necessities. ]

[ because although his demeanor wouldn't betray it, he's excited. ]

[ ... and cold. he'd thought some stylish black coat would do the trick; he didn't foresee having to layer everything to his socks. when the fuck did it become so cold. he can't tell if the clothing quality here is just awful or the weather is just awful. or it's both. ]

[ regardless, after a curt nod of acknowledge as to four's presence - ]

I can hold my own, yes.

[ to emphasize this, he gives a showy twirl of his mage's staff, then to set its tip neatly into the dirt. and really, after a look over at four and that atypical gauntlet, he feels the question answered on her behalf. with an inquisitive raise of an eyebrow, ]

That looks... messy.

[ not necessarily a bad thing; how far the blood splatters depends on how hard she hits, obviously. ]

[foursakes]

[ it’s always better to be prepared than not. four has taken the time to ready, study the arts. most enchantments she may not actually be able to use (not that people know that). she’ll keep trying as much as she was capable, which was vast— many monsters can learn certain ins and outs of the world and one’s abilities.

(she’s read, as well: harpies carry a power of song as well. so, so insignificant compared to what she’s used to, though. ugh.) ]

It was the weapon and skill I was gifted with. [ though, she understands what he means, and dips her head as she walks. the gauntlet’s claws were messy indeed, if they were to dig somewhere. ] I take no pleasure in how it must be used, though.

[ pleasure, no, but she certainly vents all her frustrations in a punch that could snap a man sideways. there’s no remorse, only excuses. ]

—Has magic found you, as well?

[ a mage’s staff could only be so useful without magic. ]

[bloodwit]

... So long as it gets the job done, hm?

[ tone somewhat lightened; more blood did mean it's met its purpose, he guesses; it would be interesting to see it in action, if things came to that. ]

[ prompted, he casts a glance down to the staff, which rhythmically taps against the ground as he walks with it by his side. it's of a solid metal, constructed with a convenient grip, its tip pointed and sharp. ... his look was of the the lingering sort, not one without a touch of pensiveness. ]

It has not, no. [ a sigh and a shake of his head, his gaze lifting back to four. ] Whatever magical ties I have seem to have been... severed.

[foursakes]

[ ah, said at the lightened remark. she doesn’t look happy (the keyword is look of course), before she nods and contents herself with it. if she were gifted in anything else, should use it surely—

but she did enjoy the cracks. it gets the job done swiftly. four seems more worried about the lack of magic on him. ]

I . . . I have only found my magic laced to one spell alone— two, at most. [ she fools herself into believing it’s still her magic, at least. it just doesn’t have the same weight anymore, or the same variety. ] Perhaps you have yet to find yours?

@daenerys

[foursakes]

[ the first full moons of many to come, and four flees.

sharing an apartment does no good for her now, where she wants to hide from paloma, where she wants to do so many things and tries so desperately to find her balance, her image, make everything that she stood for as perfect as it could possibly be for others— because that was what everyone wanted to see.

except the restless surges in her being has left her absolutely aggravated by nightfall. black splinters poke out of her neck, her arms, burn them and prick like tiny little knives. she plucks them all out, one by one, rip them if she had to. until it bled, until skin broke. she does not dare allow the feathers to grow.

that is not where feathers belong.

more than usual, she is compelled to sing. at one fine point as she stands on the roof of the apartment buildings, she parts her lips and drips intent into notes. i do not want to be alone. she wants to attract whoever she can to hear her cries in the wind, and so the siren’s melody bleeds.

they will urge any beast, any human, to come to her. ]

scoops up – please let me know if this works!!!

[freeing]

[ She use to admire the moon at night. It was something she could always find in the sky when she needed something to distract her mind. From the long nights being used by Khal Drogo to the endless longing for home when her ships sailed across the Narrow Sea. Here... it was different and part of her is not sure if that is a good or bad thing. It is an echoing reminder: Doreah, her Dothraki handmaid, spoke so clearly of the legend of how dragons came to their world. A second moon, which cracked like an egg and spilled out the creatures.

She wonders: is that so far-fetched now?

It was not the moonlight peeking through her window that garners her attention. It was a singing that haunts her mind. Makes the dreams she dares to enjoy cease and pull her from her slumber. It felt as if she was out of her own body – that standing, moving across her room, and out of it was all something otherworldly. Was she still dreaming?

Melodic magic weaves its way through Dany's core, her feet leading her past Jorah's apartment, down the hallway – exactly to where Four lingers. Whether it was another apartment complex or her own, Dany's bare feet show no sign of stopping until she finds her way to the source. To find the end of this charm that leaves her daze.

Four's figure was beautifully lit in the silver glow, her own knees feeling compelled to kneel before such a sight – such an alluring beast that charms her in ways no woman or man had. It takes a strong resolve for her to realize something was wrong – so she croaks with a soft whisper past her lips: ]

My lady...?

👀👀👀👀👀 this is,, so great

[foursakes]

[ someone would come, someone had to, it didn’t matter who. perhaps, maybe she wouldn’t mind paloma at this point either. there was too much blackness oozing from the holes of her heart and no where to go but to fill her chest, empty her of anything truly sweet (if there had always been some left to begin with).

the one who calls for her in turn makes four’s very heart twist like a knife being plunged through her gut. it hurt. it hurt, it hurt, it always hurt. four has little control over the rancorous black swan beneath the crawling of her skin. no one would like that, the frightened part of the intoner pleads. no one would love me for who i am. ]

Sweet Daenerys, [ and so the ugly black swan coaxes four: let us find out, then. she steps forward, her hands in front of her and beckoning. ] we meet again.

[ she wants to touch the woman’s hands, and smiles quaintly when she’s allowed to cradle them (her hands, though, they tremble. they tremble with the rage of a fighter who has only tasted loathing). ]

Would you mind if we spoke?

[freeing]

[ The woman haunts her. As the chilled breeze catches against her skin, she knows not how to pry her eyes away. Mind, body – it too remained rooted like a lemon tree. Her form feels heavy, eyes wanting to shut but how dare she shut them at the source of the song? Her words follow soon, just as sweet as strings and drums that bring her back to happier times. Simpler times. ]

You drag me from my dreams, here and now. Why...?

[ She dreamed of her far away world. Of Essos and the lover she left behind. Of the husband now ash and cinder. Of the child dead on arrival. Four takes that from her and sadness does swallow her heart, but she doesn't show it – even in her haze those eyes of her stare to her like a Queen – full of purpose.

And Dany's purpose was an answer. ]

What do you want of me?

[foursakes]

[ that was want. that was resolve. little four might even cower at it, as zero had approached her with her sword. every time, four had cried, and screamed for mercy.

what does she have to lose here, now? ]

Oh, [ she starts, her tone wondering. ] I hadn’t been aware that dreams are as tangible as the waking world. Phantoms may gain the upper hand against the living at this rate.

[ she giggles— unhinged and soon fleeting. you see, that’s actually a funny joke. because she no longer belongs to the living. four has perhaps gotten either a second chance or a terrible loop of dreams to be stuck in. her personal hell.

as passive and as “harmless” this was, the touch of aggression to her tone was so misplaced, if you were to compare this girl to the one met at a quaint little fashion show for children. I hate that look, four thinks as she fixes her smile for the queen. i hate that look people make when they think they’re something grand. ]

I apologize for disturbing you, my lady. I was . . . Lonely.