April Showers Bring Strange Flowers [OTA and one closed]

[blindwatchersees]

Who: "Theodor Gorlash," the butterflies, and you!
What: Getting to know the island and its inhabitants, finding oneself in the more literal sense
When: April general
Where: Downtown general/Paradesium
Warnings: To be listed in individual threads, likely to contain heavy discussions of various mental health topics


Strange Signals For a Small Desert Town [Closed, for Cecil]

In the middle of the night, that strange voice makes its way into Cecil's head yet again. That's quite rude of it, considering that at this time, more people are trying to sleep than not. There's an appropriate hour and an inappropriate hour for psychic communications!

Find... her. Find... her. The scion-to-be carries the spores. Find... me. Find... me. The worm waits alone. Dark. Strange.



A Fiddle of Sinews, a Flute of Bone [OTA, Empty Pockets]

He hasn't an instrument of his own, but Theodor wonders if perhaps he might find one on loan in the lovely little place where music wafts out like the alluring smell of freshly-baked bread. In the manner of a hungry stray cat, he makes his way though the door and settles in a corner (not in a chair, just a corner, sitting in a manner that is oddly feline and rather ill-befitting the frame of an old man). He scans the place with yellow, lamplike eyes, taking everything in.



A List of Things, Strings, Wings [OTA, Northwest Hollow]

After managing to scrounge up a bit of paper and charcoal, Theodor has settled in the quieter parts of Northwest Hollow, and is attempting to sketch the flowers and butterflies of the area. He's quite good at capturing their likenesses, however, the edges of his drawings seem to have a tendency to melt into faces, bearing exaggerated expressions of laughter, terror, and sorrow. It's probably intentional.

If anyone walks by, he's going to look up and acknowledge them, while his hand will keep scratching out designs independently. One of the aforementioned butterflies will keep its eyes on the page, as it perches on his shoulder.

Hum Dum Dee Dum, Hum Dum Dee Dum, Time For Something Sweet [OTA, Oak and Iron]


Speaking of the smell of baking bread, he's gotten quite hungry, and it suddenly occurs to him that he can't remember the last time he had a nice cup of tea or a strawberry tart. He makes his way to the Oak and Iron, and sits down at the first open spot that's just a little too close to someone else's seat to make ignoring conversation entirely feasible.

"So tell me... what's a good blend of tea around here, in your opinion? I imagine it's hard to find Greenmote Gunpowder around here."


Wildcard: PM me on Discord (redheadednimbus) if you have other ideas!

Comments

Time For Something Sweet

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"I like the mint tea, but that's technically a tisane," Chris responds, with a glance to this new person. "I didn't know one could drink gunpowder. Or is that just a flashy name?"

[blindwatchersees]

"I think the name comes from the grains, if I'm not much mistaken. They're shaped a bit like pellets of gunpowder, not that you see that sort of thing very often, where I come from."

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"Hmm... hang on..."

Chris flags down one of the servers, who greets them as 'Freeman', and asks if she has heard of gunpowder tea. Theodor will have an opportunity to explain the pellet-like look, or Chris will do so... to which the serving girl brightens and says,

"Oh, you mean pearl tea! Yes, we have that. Would you like me to bring you some?"

[blindwatchersees]

Theodor visibly brightens.

"Oh, you do have it! Yes, I'd love a cup, thank you!" He does a happy little wiggle.

[thelatechrisfreeman]

The server comes back with a filled cup of tea, as well as a small tin of the loose leaves and a teapot of hot water. "In case you want to make yourself another cup, sir."

Chris comments, "A few of the locals have an orangery going, and a lot of citrus fruits are in season. I recommend the lemon tart, but they also have an orange upside down cake. To go with your tea."

[blindwatchersees]

"A tart, you say? A lemon tart! Oh, that sounds scrumptious! But... hmm, responsibilities, responsibilities. I can't go into debt over a slice of pastry. Or I could, but it's not something I'm terribly keen on dealing with."

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"If you haven't found a job yet, you should have been given food vouchers to use here at the Oak and Iron," Chris points out in a mild tone. "But I'm not averse to buying food for a friend. My name is Chris Freeman, and you are..?"

[tisnotthehouse]

The work doesn't stop just because Tarantulas has an infant -- in fact it can't if he wants to keep Dawn fed and comfortable, with all the enrichment she needs to develop properly. After taking two weeks off from work, he resumes selling radios and other small electronics from his shopping, and making the occasional housecall for installation purposes. Sometimes he leaves Dawn with Ryja during these visits, but more often he takes her along with him, in her cloth sling strapped to his chest. Some part of him simply cannot stand to be apart from her, as if it still remembers when her soul was a piece of his...

Or maybe it's simply paranoia that one of the enemies he made in her creation will try to take her from him. Hard to be sure, honestly!

But it's on one of those occasions that he spots Theodor again and makes a detour to check in, Dawn held fast to his chest. When the man looks up Tarantulas smiles him, glancing between his face and the butterfly as he says, "Well, hello there. Still pulling yourself together, I see."

[blindwatchersees]

"Well, you know, it's a process. Who's this, then?" He actually stops drawing as the butterfly is now also looking at Dawn, its wings shifting in hue from purple to gold with an iridescent shimmer.

[tisnotthehouse]

Dawn squeaks loudly, little arms straining as she reaches for the pretty butterfly.

"No, no darling," Tarantulas coos at her, bouncing her a little to distract her. "That's Theodor's butterfly, we mustn't touch it."

He smiles at Theodor sheepishly. "This is my daughter, Dawn. She's two weeks old." And covered in blue fur. But Tarantulas is covered in purple fur, so clearly he managed to pass his own genes on just fine.

[blindwatchersees]

"Two weeks old, and already much too curious!" he laughs, clearly not at all put off my Dawn reaching for the butterfly.

"Might I ask what brings you out this way? Out for a learning walk, perhaps?"

[tisnotthehouse]

"Just like her father," Tarantulas agrees with obvious pride. "But I'm on my way to work, actually. I don't know if I mentioned before that I happen to be an electrician? It's a somewhat basic job, but --" He shrugs pragmatically. "It puts food on the table, and that's what matters.

[blindwatchersees]

"Oh, an electrician! I imagine little Dawn will be learning those skills early on in life. You're going to make so many things, aren't you, dear?"

[lasthumanvoice]

"Can you wait til the morning?" In his bed, Cecil turns over, moving his pillow to over his ears, the question half-whined out in the brattiest tone of voice ever. Oh, he knows he's susceptible to outside influence, but does it have to come when he's trying to sleep?

[blindwatchersees]

The pillow does nothing to drown out the inconsiderate thunder.

The day is too bright. The words, the words are now, when we are dreaming, and the daylight cannot claw and peck at us in the earth.

[lasthumanvoice]

"Mrrrrrgh. You get to explain to my boyfriend why I got no sleep tonight." He climbs out of bed, pulls on a pair of pants and a shirt, and grumbles his way outside. His home is near town hall and the clocktower, on the north part of the town.

[blindwatchersees]

Boyyyyyyfriend? Boyfriend… Pieces! Pieces pieces pieces. Muse. Warmth. Flesh. Boyfriend.

The voice is now crooning somewhat distractedly.

[lasthumanvoice]

"His name is Gerry. He's had to deal with weird, and he's had to deal with tough, and it's made him hard, but not so hard he can't laugh. He's honest about who he is and what he wants, and even when things I say scare or worry him, he's not scared of or worried about me. I think he thinks I'm better, somehow, because I didn't get hard. I think he doesn't realize that I got fake, instead."

Clearly this is what the voice was asking for.

[blindwatchersees]

Fake. All fake. Doesn’t matter. Real, fake, waking, dream, doesn’t matter. Loved until he was worn down to ragged scraps. Took the pieces and made them new. Pieces. Pieces. Boyyyyyyyfriends~ 💛 💜

Yes, those emojis are somehow audible.

A List of Things, Strings, Wings

[astrogator]

Ari Tayrey does a lot of walking these days, especially around the quieter section of Northwest Hollow, close by to where she lives. Usually she'll greet anyone she passes, to be neighborly, but when she sees the old man further along the path, intent on drawing something, the young lieutenant stops for a moment.

There's something familiar about the figure. As if she's seen him before. He's hard to place - and then she has it. He's that confused man out of the Village. That's enough to make her approach. She probably wouldn't have, if she'd recognised his face from the ship, but by the time he had arrived there she was long past seeking out new arrivals and trying to sway them. She'd focused on action instead.

'Peace and prosperity!' she calls out as she draws near, not wanting to get too close without drawing attention to herself. She's in bright blue coveralls, a large backpack slung over one shoulder.

[blindwatchersees]

He beams at her.

"Piece o' prosperity to ya! Lovely day, isn't it?"

[astrogator]

That doesn't sound quite right, but she absolutely appreciates the effort.

'It is! Warm and bright enough.' Having spent her life in artificial environments, Tayrey doesn't take comfort in nature the way many of the others do, but even she can appreciate a pleasantly sunny day. 'What are you drawing?' she asks.

[blindwatchersees]

"I'm drawing whatever my hands think my eyes are telling them to draw. And occasionally taking a break to tell the bees what a good job they're doing. Have you ever talked to a bee? They're incredibly relatable. More orderly than I'd like, but rife with anxiety! And they love pillows!"

[astrogator]

Now she looks quite bewildered. 'No, I can't say I've ever talked to any... insects,' she replies cautiously. 'But I didn't live planetside, before all this. I'm a spacer.' As if that might be the only reason she has never attempted to talk with bees.

'I wanted to say that I'm glad you got out. That you escaped that place and you're free. Nobody deserves to be trapped,' she says earnestly, trying to pull some logic back to the conversation.

[blindwatchersees]

"That place..." His eyes suddenly widen.

"You... you remember! You remember where I was before I was here! Do you... do you know who I am, perchance?"