Lorenz "I'm an 11" Hellman Gloucester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bergamotrose) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2020-02-10 09:51 pm
bergamotrose) wrote in middaeg2020-02-10 09:51 pm
[Open] February Catch-All | Pegasus Moon
Who: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester + Open (with potential closed starters as needed)
When: Full Moon and after
Where: Throughout Aefenglom
What: Lorenz finds himself facing the consequences of not having his priorities straight.
Warnings: Possible body horror. Will update as needed.
A
[It was a miscalculation.
That was what he would tell himself later, after the dust had settled. It was a miscalculation of a variety of factors that he had neither predicted nor given the appropriate weight in his planning. The first was finding others from his land with yet a different set of memories than the ones he had already encountered, and navigating the particular frustration of not being able to determine who among them was friend or foe. The second, Lapis Lazuli. The ferocity of the rage that boiled within her was far more intense than he had realized, and it was a disruption in the plans he was trying to pursue with her. As much as he wanted to trust her as an equal, for the moment that was impossible. The third...
Marianne.
In an ideal setting, they would have been of similar age and had met with the same trials. She would have faced the darkness inside her heart and made peace with it, and they could have moved forward. But she had arrived in this realm as she was five years prior-- seemingly fragile, certainly untempered, and as liable to shy away as she was to explode in her fear. That alone would have been enough to still Lorenz's own plans, but then she had been taken. Taken, and forced to endure an untold number of disrespects that she was still reluctant to speak of. She, among all of those in this realm from Fodlan, had faced the most trauma in Aefenglom.
And yet, she was the least able to accept the final verdict delivered by the judge.
Knowing all of this in his heart, Lorenz was faced with a singular certainty that she needed his protection. But, that certainty was coupled with the fact that he felt he could not interfere.
He itched to write something-- a poem. Anything. 'Amid time’s flow I mourn bonds I’m not sure I can ever rend...' It left an unsettled feeling in his fingers that crept up his arms and firmly clenched his swiftly beating heart in it's fist, binding him to it's will.
At least he had the foresight to lock the bedroom door. Stocked in his personal quarters were sundry items that he suspected he would need until dawn--
But, it wasn't enough.
The wave of pain that met his body as he caught a glimpse of the full moon slowly dawning over the horizon had him biting his tongue in shock. Hands clenched tightly upon the rails of his bed in a white knucked bid for support as his knees buckled beneath him, changing configuration into something wholly unfamiliar. His ears burned, his vision blurred--
Amid the disjointed thoughts that rolled in a tangle in his mind was one recurring thread: Marianne. He couldn't let Marianne see him like this.
He knew he shouldn't be alone. Yet, unbonded as he was, he had no choice.
Finding his footing, Lorenz took the only course he could think of: Flee. Throwing the window to his bedroom wide open, Lorenz leapt for the freedom of the night. The late winter chill of the wind helped him have a grip on his intention, kept his awareness sharp.
Thus, with an inhuman stillness he crept through the shadows of the city, intent on making it to his destination unimpeded: The Harbor.
The salty air at the docks, the frigid bite of the sea, would surely help.]
B
[It was a miscalculation, yet here he was.
Lorenz sat on the edge of the dock, wrapped in a blanket he had procured from parts unknown while his unfamiliar feet dangled in the empty space wrought by low tide. His silken hair hung in his face and clung to the ears that now twitched in the cold breeze, tangled with muck and dirt that Lorenz was too hesitant to attempt to define. Uncomfortable and exhausted, Lorenz squinted out over the crisp horizon while he attempted to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest and the distinct knowledge that he was certain his flight from Haven had not been as clean as he had wished.
People had seen him. They had to. If they hadn't, they surely would in the near future.
Huffing irritably, Lorenz idly picked at the delicate swatches of velvet that were now hanging from his antlers.]
This must make quite a sight,
[He mused darkly, bitterly. After spending so much time keeping his appearances in a perfectly coiffed illusion of grandeur, Lorenz knew there was no coming back from this.]
When: Full Moon and after
Where: Throughout Aefenglom
What: Lorenz finds himself facing the consequences of not having his priorities straight.
Warnings: Possible body horror. Will update as needed.
A
[It was a miscalculation.
That was what he would tell himself later, after the dust had settled. It was a miscalculation of a variety of factors that he had neither predicted nor given the appropriate weight in his planning. The first was finding others from his land with yet a different set of memories than the ones he had already encountered, and navigating the particular frustration of not being able to determine who among them was friend or foe. The second, Lapis Lazuli. The ferocity of the rage that boiled within her was far more intense than he had realized, and it was a disruption in the plans he was trying to pursue with her. As much as he wanted to trust her as an equal, for the moment that was impossible. The third...
Marianne.
In an ideal setting, they would have been of similar age and had met with the same trials. She would have faced the darkness inside her heart and made peace with it, and they could have moved forward. But she had arrived in this realm as she was five years prior-- seemingly fragile, certainly untempered, and as liable to shy away as she was to explode in her fear. That alone would have been enough to still Lorenz's own plans, but then she had been taken. Taken, and forced to endure an untold number of disrespects that she was still reluctant to speak of. She, among all of those in this realm from Fodlan, had faced the most trauma in Aefenglom.
And yet, she was the least able to accept the final verdict delivered by the judge.
Knowing all of this in his heart, Lorenz was faced with a singular certainty that she needed his protection. But, that certainty was coupled with the fact that he felt he could not interfere.
He itched to write something-- a poem. Anything. 'Amid time’s flow I mourn bonds I’m not sure I can ever rend...' It left an unsettled feeling in his fingers that crept up his arms and firmly clenched his swiftly beating heart in it's fist, binding him to it's will.
At least he had the foresight to lock the bedroom door. Stocked in his personal quarters were sundry items that he suspected he would need until dawn--
But, it wasn't enough.
The wave of pain that met his body as he caught a glimpse of the full moon slowly dawning over the horizon had him biting his tongue in shock. Hands clenched tightly upon the rails of his bed in a white knucked bid for support as his knees buckled beneath him, changing configuration into something wholly unfamiliar. His ears burned, his vision blurred--
Amid the disjointed thoughts that rolled in a tangle in his mind was one recurring thread: Marianne. He couldn't let Marianne see him like this.
He knew he shouldn't be alone. Yet, unbonded as he was, he had no choice.
Finding his footing, Lorenz took the only course he could think of: Flee. Throwing the window to his bedroom wide open, Lorenz leapt for the freedom of the night. The late winter chill of the wind helped him have a grip on his intention, kept his awareness sharp.
Thus, with an inhuman stillness he crept through the shadows of the city, intent on making it to his destination unimpeded: The Harbor.
The salty air at the docks, the frigid bite of the sea, would surely help.]
B
[It was a miscalculation, yet here he was.
Lorenz sat on the edge of the dock, wrapped in a blanket he had procured from parts unknown while his unfamiliar feet dangled in the empty space wrought by low tide. His silken hair hung in his face and clung to the ears that now twitched in the cold breeze, tangled with muck and dirt that Lorenz was too hesitant to attempt to define. Uncomfortable and exhausted, Lorenz squinted out over the crisp horizon while he attempted to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest and the distinct knowledge that he was certain his flight from Haven had not been as clean as he had wished.
People had seen him. They had to. If they hadn't, they surely would in the near future.
Huffing irritably, Lorenz idly picked at the delicate swatches of velvet that were now hanging from his antlers.]
This must make quite a sight,
[He mused darkly, bitterly. After spending so much time keeping his appearances in a perfectly coiffed illusion of grandeur, Lorenz knew there was no coming back from this.]
no subject
[He choked out, cheeks violently flushing from the raw astringency of the brew. Lorenz's tongue felt as if he had trekked through the desert for weeks on end and, upon finding a pool of water and partaking of it, found that the water itself was far from sweet.
And that was accounting for the spice.
He coughed, delicately covering his mouth as he did so, and sought for composure.]
Sir Everett was not joking when he described this as unfit for those faint of heart!
no subject
But the last sentence has him chuckle despite himself and how Lorenz seems to suffer even worse. ]
Sometimes it makes me wonder why he wanted it in the menu.
[ He redeems himself by patting Lorenz on the back, with sympathy and concern, as the man coughs. ]
At least it doesn't contain poison. [ Not... enough of it, at least? ]
no subject
[From the little he knew of Everett, through their conversations, the quirky drinks of his menu which he claimed were representative of his culture, and the intricate dance Everett seemed to partake in every time a word slipped from his clever tongue, it was the only assessment that made sense.
Lorenz coughed again, embarrassed by how frightfully red his face must have looked in that moment.]
There's no poison.
[He said firmly, hoping to assuage Wataru's concerns.]
It's a very... sturdy blend that would fell hardened soldiers, surely. Must be a combination of strong, astringent teas and... some kind of spice.
[It reminded him almost like his land's four spice blend of tea. Almost.]
no subject
Someone must be talking about him and accurately, at that.]
no subject
Turning his attention back on Lorenz, he nods. ]
I've noticed that, too. [ He sighs. Springtide culture would be similar to Japan's if it didn't sound much weirder. ] Would you like a... more regular blend to recover from the cough?
[ Because as much as it's supposed to help, that tea has an effect that worries him too. ]