ph_logs | April Showers Bring Strange Flowers [OTA and one closed]

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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?"

"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.

"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?"

"Quite possibly," Tarantulas agrees. "It's a good starting point, anyway, and of course I'll be glad to teach her everything I know...but I have hopes that someday she'll surpass me. Perhaps she'll wind up doing things that I can't even conceive of."

This, in his mind, is the greatest triumph a parent can have. To make someone new, raise them up, and see them turn out even better and greater than you. And Tarantulas already thinks he's pretty great, so like. No pressure, Dawn!

He laughs, clapping his hands together.

"Ah, perhaps that's one of the best things we can hope for in life. There's a wonder, a splendor in seeing our children make their own way, because they are something different from us, something new, something we can barely even begin to imagine. I worry for people that beg for a sameness in the people around them, and their offspring. Why live life as a static echo, when you can behold wondrous..."

He almost says "iteration," but then realize that makes him sound a lot like a certain other Daedric Prince, so he stops, but then fails to come up with a replacement word, so the sentence just sort of hangs on that.

Tarantulas looks at Theodor curiously, unable to tell why he suddenly stopped. "It's true though," he says, trying to keep the conversation going. "For some species conformity might work, but for sapients like us it might as well be a synonym for mediocrity. Diversity and innovation are the keys to success."

He cuddles the infant in his arms close, gently petting the blue fur that covers her head. "When I had Dawn's older brother, Ostaros, I had hopes that he might develop into a great scientist, or perhaps an artist or a poet. A new type of intellectual...but he was taken from me and raised as a soldier instead. He turned out to be a very good soldier, very skilled, but..." He sighs heavily. "It was not the life I would have chosen for him, nor I think the life he'd have chosen for himself. I must work to protect Dawn's freedom to make her own choices."

He nods.

"We fight our battles so our children don't have to, or so we hope. I feel like they still inevitably find their own battles, of course. My little girl... wait... wait!" His eyes go wide.

"Yes, that's right! I had a little girl of my own! With hair like fire and the sharpest teeth! Oh, what was her name? What was her name?" He taps his forehead with his knuckles, trying to drum up his thoughts.

"You did?" Tarantulas stares at Theodor in surprise -- which rapidly turns into heartbreak. How horrible would it be, to look back at his own history and realize he'd forgotten even a single microsecond of the time he spent with Ostaros? Which reminds him, he really should figure out a work-around for information creep sometime this epoch...

But for Theodor, he fears there's nothing he can do. He hesitates even to speak out loud, for fear of derailing his train of thought and causing him to forget what little memory he still has. If Tarantulas were a praying mech, then perhaps --

But wait. Why not? He's ever believed in Primus, of course, but the divinities of this world are empirical beings, with measurable effects on reality. And unlike the demons, there doesn't seem to be a price for calling on them. What could it hurt to just...maybe...

Is anyone listening? he thinks anxiously. Please help him. Even just to remember the child's name...No parent deserves to suffer like this.

“It’s strange what I can remember. I grew a horse for her, made out of magnolias and June bugs, in the palace gardens. I taught her how to fight in the shadow of ivy-covered walls, and imparted to her the manners a wild thing is expected to keep in the presence of gods. Together, we figured out every curse one could utter with the fingers and palms, and I wept bitterly when she set off into the wider world. But her name… it’s like it’s fallen down a rabbit hole.”

"It will come back to you," Tarantulas quietly insists, his spark aching as if Theodor's struggles are his own. "It must. Something so important can't stay lost forever."

He rubs his cheek against the top of Dawn's head, holding her close. Such a terrible, agonizing thought, the idea that through accident or injury he might forget her precious name...

"I think you're right. It's out there, and so long as I never stop reaching for it... it's all connections, it's all a matter of connections, and hope."

"That's right...if nothing else, there's always hope." Tarantulas smiles slightly, adding, "I expect I'll be quite busy in the days to come, but if there's ever anything I can do to assist you, I do hope you'll let me know. I..." He laughs quietly, surprised at himself. "I'm not sure I've ever sympathized with someone else's struggles as much as I do now, to be honest..."

He tilts his head yet again, almost cat-like, and replies, "I knew someone once who didn't think he had a drop of compassion in his body. He was quite wrong." And then,

"I'm glad to meet someone who longs for understanding."

"I've lived quite a long time without any evidence of compassion," Tarantulas remarks. "But it would make my life easier if there were some hiding deep down in my spark after all. I suppose we'll see."

But then he smiles and explains, "I've always wanted to understand everything. I used to fancy myself a master of time and space...even built my own pocket dimension once. But, hyeh, as always happens sooner or later, my hubris caught up to me. That's how I wound up here." He shrugs. "I won't let it stop from me trying to learn all I can, though. I simply need to be more mindful of the long-term effects of my experiments -- and the people I associate with." He definitely needs to stay away from people like Overlord, no matter how handsome and visionary they are.

He nods, seeming very much in agreement with all of this.

"Tell me, what drives you to understand? Does it help you feel in control? Does it give you comfort? Or is it as intrinsic as scratching an itch?"

"Ah, but don't get too mindful. Can't have you locking yourself up in fear of making a wrong move, eh? Can't let that tremendous curiosity go to waste!"

April Showers Bring Strange Flowers [OTA and one closed]

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