[OPEN] The world is spinning endlessly

[spaghettification]

Who: Siebren and friends
What: October Shenanigans
When:...October? Possibly also November
Where: Siebren's home, the
Warning(s): Potential cannibalism mentions, unreality, mental unwellness, memory manipulation (self-inflicted), more in comment titles

1. This is the sound of energy [Gala Aftermath]
You can't believe how easy it is. You just have to go... a little crazy. And then, suddenly, it all makes sense, and everything you do turns to gold.
He calls into work the morning after the gala. And a couple more days beyond that. In that time, he is
metamorphosing
assimilating
unpacking
digesting everything that occurred that night. He stays at home, alone, trying to avoid everyone and everything.

much. It's too
The fragments of past that he's avoided for their sharpness rotate in him mind, turning their points toward him, crystal shards of time that threaten him. And yet, some part of him reaches out with Pandoran curiosity, like Sleeping Beauty toward the spindle. What he pricks isn't a finger, but he feels the pain just as instantly. And yet, and yet...

too much. It's
There it is, the multiple choice past solidifying in fractals, like frost spidering across a windowpane. Siebren has no way of knowing whether this is a correct past, but it is now his, memories feeling more stable than they have in years. Some things are lost, others are fake, but the end result is more real than anything he's been able to grasp before.

For three days, anyone approaching Siebren's home for any reason may hear, even from outside the building, the sounds of someone having a Bad Time™, with pained screams or furniture being thrown against walls as his gravitational powers pulse and fluctuate. For three days, he struggles.

And then, there is silence.


Traveling through the galaxy [The Library; CW vertigo]
Siebren returns to work. Nothing is wrong. He is fine. Can't you see how fine he is?

Somewhere, a book falls off a table and he flinches. And then, to anyone within a certain distance of him, the floor seems to fall away, in a dizzying cloud of galactic light, just for a moment, before he regains control, glancing around to see if anyone noticed.


Into eternity [Stargazing Night]
A notice goes up on the bulletin board, and letters are issued to penpals with explicit invitations: Crane's Ridge, 9pm on a given night. Bring snacks, drinks, something to sit on. Siebren will have his telescope and star charts.

He's brought some cheese and crackers and apple butter himself, as well, and is floating beside his big brass telescope, dressed in a comfortable sweater. For the moment, he is completely at ease. For the moment, nothing could possibly bother him.

Right?


A One Note Symphony [Wildcard]
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Comments

[misbegottendreamer]

“But… you feel it is fighting you?”

[spaghettification]

"It has been a struggle, the past...however many days."

That's a deflection at best. It's nowhere near an answer.

[misbegottendreamer]

Drelasa is quick to pick up on that. “Siebren, my love. Talk to me as you are able. Tell me what you are fearing, what you are feeling. I will share all that I have that might be of help.

[spaghettification]

He draws her nearer, almost entangling himself in her arms, and then...relaxes. Lets his physical tension go.

"I fear my memories are...scrambled. Not from the island, as far as I can tell. But before. The world back home, is isn't right, in my head. And there's sensory inputs. A waxy feeling on my tongue, a faint cloying taste. They're not going away."

[misbegottendreamer]

Her flutes embrace him individually, though she is careful to avoid putting pressure on his shoulders.

“I can try to help you put things together, based on what you’ve told me before. You know I’ve kept rapt attention to your lectures. Perhaps we can sift out at least a few lies?”

[spaghettification]

"Do...do you know my mother's name? That's one of the things I know that I am missing. A clear gap I've found. I remember her jewelry, her perfume. Can't remember her name."

[misbegottendreamer]

“That… is not something you’ve told me.” She wishes now that she had asked more about his family.

“Tell me what you can about her. I will listen, and speak back to you. We will find what does and doesn’t fit.”

[spaghettification]

"She was refined, polished, but in a way that left her sharp instead of soft. Her perfume smelled like powder and roses, and she wore her hair in a bun, just so. She wanted me to study music as a child."

He frowns. "Her shoes were always shiny and black, with a pointed heel. Father's shoes were also shiny, but polished rather than patent leather."

[misbegottendreamer]

"Tell me more. What sort of music did she want you to study?"

[spaghettification]

"Classical and baroque. Formal, old music. Stodgy, even." Even so, he's smiling at that. "Bach, Handel, Vivaldi..."

[misbegottendreamer]

"These names are strangers to me, kena. Another thing for you to teach me, when you are well. Now, you mentioned a smell to your mother. Roses and powder... what sort of powder?"

[spaghettification]

"Talcum powder, perhaps? Something light, soft, but lingering." He's not sure she'll be familiar with that, either.

[misbegottendreamer]

“Ah. Yes, now that you say it, I can smell it, vividly. And what was her voice like?”

[spaghettification]

"Strong. A good amount of vocal fry. When she was angry, she wouldn't get loud. She'd over-enunciate, instead. The words got crisper." Interesting, isn't it, that he goes first to what she sounds like angry.

[misbegottendreamer]

"Sharper, almost. Do you think anger is on your mind right now?"