ayto | Week 1 Mingle;

Entry tags:

!mingle,
!week 1

Week 1 Mingle;

❤ Week 1 Mingle

Welcome to a new week, lovebirds! Monday dawns gray and misty, and it's actually not long before a thunderstorm rolls in! You can, of course, kiss dramatically in the yard in the rain and risk getting struck by lightning-- or you can stay inside, cuddle in the conversation pit, USE THE GODDAMN BOOM BOOM ROOM or do anything else until the storm blows over by the evening! Don't worry, the rest of the week will be bright and sunny and beautiful!

There's also a new section of the house, weirdly enough! There's a bright turquoise door located near the bedroom and opening it leads to... a massive indoor pool. The water is a pleasant temperature, there's a hot tub, there's an assortment of flotation devices for those of you who might have trouble swimming (tubes, life vests, boogie boards, pool noodles that can also be used to wage Deadly Combat if you are Sara and Kasque or Jeritza or anyone else ready for Violence). And if you somehow didn't pack a swimsuit because why on earth would your canon let you have one--

Worry not!! There's a rack of swimsuits in every size you lot could need! The catch (or not): they're all sexy. Like. Barely there sexy. Impossibly adhering to you sexy. Shoelaces would maybe cover more sexy. Absolutely great to play Chicken Fight in sexy. You get the idea.

Anything having to do with being able to write is still also Not Present.

Enjoy!!!

Premise ❤ FAQ ❤ Rules ❤ Truth Booth ❤ Locations ❤
Profiles ❤ Permissions ❤

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She hmphs, turning her head to the side.]

If you didn't notice, mine wasn't all that flattering in some regards. I think it must have backfired somehow.

[Sure, she'd written about her ideal date herself - and completely run off the rails - but even when it came to describing what attracted her to something else, it only showed the things that were describable.]

Most of the stuff I said, you know that just comes from books, right?

Is there something wrong with that? Books can take us to moments of which we never could've dreamed on our own. As long as you understand the boundaries that must be drawn between literature and reality, I would simply say that you're well-read, which is in and of itself a feat.

[He leans ever slightly forward.]

Furthermore, I would hardly say that yours was fruitless. Why, I was most impressed to learn that you're a dancer.

I think I'm very good at magic. [That isn't bravado; she says it with simple, direct statement of fact.] I've probably learned most of what I can from books studying on the surface.

When my friend Falin - my...friend - created a sprite jar, hers was so much more [she searches for an appropriate word] fantastic. At the time, she'd seen a dungeon for herself, and I hadn't.

[She's been thinking about that a lot recently, for whatever reason. She'd thought about it huddled under the blanket with Blaze, too. She has a lot of ideas. She doesn't even know how right they are. But that's all pretty serious, and he's already asked her about something else in her past, so - ]

But a dancer? That's a little different... I just think it's fun!

As do I. I love dancing as much as I love scholarship. Only . . .

[Trailing off, Cyrus shakes his head.

He has no doubts where Marcille's magical talents are concerned. Her statements are bereft of arrogance and she strikes him as a hard worker. Moreover, this Falin must be very dear to her.]

Pray tell me what a sprite jar is.

[The water shifts: Marcille sits up a little straighter at the idea. If it's something he really enjoys, he shouldn't hesitate so much about it.] Only?

- Oh, it's simple summoning magic. It's a simulated living environment that should self-sustain the sprites in the biome on magical energy alone. -

Anyway, only? [she asks again, as if she hadn't just mini-lectured on the experiment.]

[He opens his mouth to ask for more details, because all of that sounds utterly fascinating and he wants to hear about her jar, but Marcille beats him to the punch. A wistful breath escapes him.]

Ah . . . I have, as a dancing friend of mine once said, two left feet—so much so that I've yet to attend a faculty ball for fear of tripping over some poor girl. While I took a brief lesson from the most inspirational dancer I've had the pleasure of knowing, we concluded that it would be best if I stuck to what I do well.

[Which is teaching. Because he could not be taught.]

[Hopefully he isn't offended by Marcille's giggle, which she tries and fails to hide behind her hand.]

That bad, huh? At least they gave you the diagnosis straight.

[If he's thinking about her relationship with Falin, then Marcille has something similar on her mind. Whoever this dancing partner of his was, it sounds like they were close friends. Perhaps that person would have some insight into why he himself would find himself agreeing to come to the house.]

So, don't go to any balls. Have you ever danced by yourself, though?

[It is laughable, and embarrassing but true. Marcille can laugh. Cyrus takes no offense: If anything, it's good that his incompetence elicits a positive emotion like amusement—a sentiment that shows in his brief and wry smile.]

I have. But I could never keep my gaze averted from my feet, and the steps proved too complicated for me to manage . . . It quickly reached a point where I had to concede that dancing isn't for me.

Do you need to memorize steps? You can just move in a way that feels right to you.

[Maybe that's why she sees it so differently from magic. Every spell she's ever mastered she did so with recipe-strict discipline.

But he also might not want to be taking dancing advice from someone with her unorthodox move set.]

It's okay to not be good at something! I'm not trying to force you or anything.

[Shaking his head, he replies sincerely:]

Encouragement is a potent teacher. I appreciate your thoughtful advice.

The truth is that no movement feels right to me. While I can play the piano, my body is incapable of swaying to music. As you say, I'm simply not good at it—a fact that I've long come to accept.

[Albeit with much regret. He lifts a hand out of the water and runs it over his face, then smiles again.]

How about you, Marcille? Does dancing come naturally to you in a way that feels right?

[Oh wow it's really bad.

Perhaps Marcille was hasty in encouraging his dreams of dancing without understanding the full picture. She gives him a sympathetic grimace.] Don't give up, Cyrus. You play an instrument? Maybe you can't dance with them, but someone could always dance to your music.

[She scoots across the minimal distance between them to come to his side, sitting next to him and putting a reassuring bare arm around his very clothed shoulders.]

I guess, for me, I don't think about it until I'm doing it? So it's natural in that way. I'm usually alone, anyway.

[The gesture is unexpected, but not unappreciated. He mouths a silent "oh" before he reaches up and touches her hand in gratitude. Marcille is bright, and it shows in how she searches for the bright spots where it's dark.

He wonders about that last statement, but it's not the first time something like it has cropped up in this conversation.]

'tis a shame there's no piano here. I would have liked to play and watch you dance.

[At the very least, it doesn't sound like actual loneliness when she says it. At least when it comes to dancing, it's just something that she seems to often do on her own.

Now that she's this close to him, it might be a good time to acknowledge that as of her thread with Aoko, the swimsuit she'd settled on this number, except with anime underboob. And it was still probably the most flattering thing on the rack.]

Well... [She withdraws her arm, then leans back on her elbows, legs lifting just slightly to float in the bubbling hot tub water. The suggestion she makes sounds like a nice sort of dream.] Maybe if they don't give us maps, they'll give us a music room.

[Leaning back against the wall of the tub, he glances down at her legs.]

It would be most fortuitous if they do.

[First Dohalim, and now Marcille—if nothing else, he would love a music room or some sort of addition that will allow him to witness their respective talents. Marcille is passionate and exuberant, so he can only imagine the vigor with which she must move.]

Now then . . . I understand that you hold your friend, Falin, in high regard. Would you be able to tell me more about the sprite jars each of you created?

Oh... yeah, are you really that curious about them?

Well, you layer dirt and wooden platforms in a jar, then infuse it with magical energy to keep the sprites alive. The energy has to sustain itself in order to sustain them, so any destabilization and they'll die rather than remain. Mine was completely stable.

But Falin used dirt and debris from from a living dungeon to build hers. It looked so ugly, but the sprites... grew exponentially. It wasn't just the energy put into it: It was the ecosystem the soil supported. She didn't even know brilliant it was.

[Falin is nearly all instinct and feeling, a force that cares and cares and cares, not an intellectual. Marcille recounts the project with affection and a little wonder in her voice. She turns her head, shaking a single tear down into the hot tub water.]

[The entire concept is new to him, but even he can tell how utterly brilliant Falin's creation must've been—brilliant, though no more important than Marcille's own. Cyrus notes the fondness in her voice, so the contrast in the way she turns away raises his concern. He leans in her direction, lifting a hand out of the water as he reaches out.]

Is something the matter, Marcille?

[Marcille knuckles at her eye, sniffles, and shakes her head. She manages, at least, to not burst into sobs this time, though even thinking of Falin's care for different, often significant things, her laziness in completing projects, her laid-back nature... She's been through so much since they first met, since Marcille first followed her to the dungeon.]

I just miss her...

[Very dear, indeed. Marcille's tears illustrate the depth of her care for Falin, who is ( . . . was?) equally blessed to have such a fond friend. Cyrus could draw several conclusions here based on his fragmented knowledge of Marcille, but he opts to explore the source of her sorrow first. Reaching out, he places a hand on her shoulder.]

. . . It sounds as if you haven't seen her in some time. Is she on the surface?

[Oh, how she wishes Falin was on the surface.

They'll get her there, sooner or later. The worst of it is over now, or she wouldn't have felt comfortable agreeing to come here in the first place. Marcille just have to remember that... and it keeps the worst of her sobbing away.

She shakes her head and sniffles again.] We got into a lot of trouble in the dungeon... Falin saved us, but she was left behind. We had to go back in to save her. It's taken so long... But now we just need to get her back with us.

[And find enough people to help them take care of...the rest of it. If Laios' plan even works.]

[Ah.

His hand remains on her shoulder.

This puts some things she said before into another perspective. Marcille longs to see the surface, yet is loath to leave the dungeon until she's retrieved her dear friend. Her personal grievance pales in comparison to her worry for another. How much must it have hurt when Falin was left behind?]

. . . Is she close?

[Uhhhh that's one way of putting it.

Marcille still looks sad; the circumstances, no matter the outcome, will always horrify and weigh heavily on her. But there's hope in her voice, too, as if she really believes that things are finally approaching their revolution.]

She is. We found a way to get to her... and we did what had to be done, so now we just have to finish things. Our leader has a plan. It's stupid, but I hope he can pull it off.

[He nods. The hope in her voice is stirring. Both Falin and the party deserve this success.]

For everyone's sake, I hope so as well. What manner of plan is it?

Falin is... not exactly herself, right now.

[She knows he might ask more - he always seems to - and as a fellow practitioner, their kindred spirits make Marcille hope that he might understand her perspective.

Still, she's protected her field of expertise and the unexpected problems she'd caused close to the vest for a reason, both before and after fighting the dragon. Even hoping that she can trust Cyrus - and, oh, how she hopes she can trust him - she won't volunteer it right away.]

Parts of her body aren't her own. We need to separate her...from the parts of her that aren't her.

["Parts of her that aren't her"? His hand withdraws to cup his chin. Exactly what happened to Falin once she was left behind?]

A task much easier said than done, no doubt. But what parts are those . . . ?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Week 1 Mingle;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

hello friends who are backreading this thread will probably eventually have spoilers

delicious

literally

no subject

no subject

no subject