isleofavalon | [open] SOMNUS & YOU, catch-all feb

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[open] SOMNUS & YOU, catch-all feb

🧙 WHO: Somnus and YOU
⚔️️ WHAT: Open quests, TDM prompts, etc.
🕒 WHEN: around feb
🗺️ WHERE: errwhere
⚠️ WARNINGS: none

Cupid's Arrow Beta Testing

[ What is the purpose of such quests? An enchantment to cause another to fall is reckless, dangerous, even. But that doesn't mean he won't be watching as the arrows are distributed. Eventually, and with a solemn mien not fit for any feelings of affection (enchanted or otherwise), he decides to take up the quest with explicit intention to not fulfil it. Taking a potentially enchanted arrow from the quest-giver means one less another might use against someone.

Now he stands and walks with an arrow in hand down one of the cobblestone streets, his eyes keen on its sharp, spell-doused tip.

Enter you, at an ill-advised moment or angle-- perhaps a carriage is rushing down the street, too, or a man wheelbarrowing a stack of hay shouts for you to move out of the way and into Somnus' path. Somnus deftly side-steps the encounter, nimbly twirling the shaft of the arrow between his fingers to prevent it from harming you-- only to be pricked by it himself....

When the commotion ends, Somnus stands still. His free hand rises up, slowly, to press his palm to the slight-left of his upper chest. It's a tender motion, self-steadying as if something suddenly weighs upon him, but delicate as if he’s holding something fragile within. He looks at you, ashen and solemn. For once, emotion flickers across his normally stony expression.

This. This is a great, incomprehensible, and terrible pain. ]

Training Grounds:

[ Ever since his arrival, he's been cut off from the birthright-magic of of his Line. As such, he has neither pocket-dimension armory nor Armiger. Unable to house it within the metaphysical space of crystalline, divine magic. and Somnus has still yet to find a proper sheath for his blade. Which means... he might as well exercise his new, kinetic magic with it.

Find him wielding his sword remotely through kinesis, practicing various forms as if if a specter were swinging it only meters from where he stands. Occasionally, he'll attempt to kinetically lift another weapon into his practice. ]

Sync or Swim

A: [ He trusts those insofar who are interested at exploring the potential and boundaries of their magic, and so if you are a like-minded professional and should you have agreed to accompany him, he enters the ritual tent with you. On his part, it appears he's neither flighty nor awkward, but grim and serious as usual. He's fought many battles with men he's known for less than a month before-- and when presented with a common goal (whether that of defeating daemons or this), he knows that success can be possible just with that.

He also has known for some time that one is never strongest when alone.

With the paint applied, they are ready to commence the dance. Somnus holds up his hand to you, his pale, calloused palm facing outward and awaiting yours to join it, prepared for the first touch and the initiating circle. The dim lighting of the tent casts shadows, accenting the severity of his expression, yet the amber glow of the candles seems to simultaneously soften the normally sharp blue of his gaze. His voice, strong and deep, announces, ] Let us begin.

[ (Note that if new CR, assume names have been exchanged!) ]

B: [ Whether success or failure, Somnus can be found after any attempts at the ritual by the prismatic bonfire afterward, looking upon the fire with a complex expression. The flames flicker, dancing in his eyes. Perhaps they even cast a nostalgic light. ]

Save a Beast, Kill a Man

[ He looks upon the quest board app with some amount of interest for the last one. (Thankfully, he's read up on what selkies are.) To anyone who also happens to be randomly standing nearby also reading the latest update on their quests: ] Are such unions lawful in this realm?

[ Not only does it seem to be a marriage between a fae-creature and man, it's obviously one of forced marriage where the requester is openly asking for murder. Is that also not frowned upon? ]

Wildcard

[ Wildcard any of the above prompts here, DM me Jade294#6977 or PP me at drinksteapots! I'm okay with repeating multiple prompts. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

["Move!"

She barely has time to. What was she even doing? Wandering aimlessly. Still learning the ins and outs of Camelot. Somnus plays the saviour either way, even if she's not fully aware of it. She knocks right into him in the midst of avoiding potential collision.

It's as she's dusting herself off that she finds her attention settling back on him. Always playing the part of the gentleman it seems.]

Wow. Sorry about that. [But she's warm and welcoming as she ever tends to be.] I didn't hit you too hard, did I?

[What's that look he has? He doesn't look as cold as he normally does. Maybe he's still getting over the shock himself.]

[ He is in shock, alright, suddenly at the mere sight of her.

A gripping, powerful shock that threatens to overturn his balance before her— ....metaphorically, of course, because he’s as still as ice as the town continues to bustle around them. Except, all is silent to his ears save for her words, and all else is out of focus but for the soft lips that speak them.

Somnus wrenches his head away, brow lowering in what may either be disgust or frustration, his eyes dark as the hand upon his chest shifts from palm to fist, gripping the fabric of his cloak as if to stifle himself. He feels a resounding thump within, powerful enough to make it seem as if the ground is threatening to crack and give way to a void beneath him.

This feeling is unnatural. Yet... ]

Hail, ....Healer. [ He dares not call her by her name.

He should leave, but he doesn’t. Without looking at her—- but with the cracks of his expression giving way to conflict—- he speaks. ]

Are you hurt?

[...Is he ever going to call her something other than titles? 'Healer' is a bit of a new one, she supposes, encouraging her to cock an eyebrow. It's never really insulting, just... strange.

Funny, actually.]

How many times do I have to tell you?

[She shakes her head at him. He's so stubborn, like some kids she's known. He's lucky he's with someone as nice as her because some people wouldn't tolerate that at all.

There's something else there. Something kind of intense about the way he's looking at her. Maybe it's not 'intense.' Aerith can't put a name to it, but there's something decisively different about him.

At his question, she examines herself.]

Mmmmnnnope! Right as rain. Nothing to worry about, okay? I should have been paying attention.

[ She isn’t hurt. Fortunate, he thinks, but it provides little relief. It’s in the few moments she takes to assess herself that Somnus uses to regain some of his composure. He straightens, lowering his hand from his chest to smooth out the front of his robes. Unfortunately, some strain in his shoulders remains.

Movement catches in the periphery of his sight: more carriages make their way down the street. They shouldn’t remain standing near so busy of an intersection. ] Come. [ He bids her, stepping away from the street and slush of snow and allowing her to walk along the inner sidewalk. Would that he could lead her some place more peaceful than this... but perhaps he can escort her to wherever she had intended to go in the first place. Perhaps that would be enough to satisfy this suddenly selfish emotion, and then he can depart.

Beneath his cloak, his hand twitches at side. ]

Have you errands to attend?

[He ushers her away from what could likely turn into more enthralling adventures on the dangerous side and though she's not personally concerned about being run over by a carriage (because naturally she should be trying to actively avoid that), she decides to play along. He's showing some concern, which is not entirely new. He was that way when they arrived, after all. She remembers fondly the cloak he retrieved for her.

Not the most conversational man, but a very kind one.

She follows along at his side, humming a nonsensical song that seems to have no rhyme or reason for being, only that it is present at all while she tries to find a way to answer him.]

I don't know if I'd call it an errand. I think you might be a bit bored by it, though. You're welcome to come along anyway.

[Looking over to him, she continues.] I spoke with him. His Majesty, I mean. I grow flowers back where I come from and I wanted to do the same here. He seemed to support that. He said if I grew any, to arrange to have them taken to his... people, because they'd have a use for them. I'm looking around for what kinds of flower seeds might be available here.

[So she can have a flower shop. Simple pleasures for a seemingly simple girl, who is anything but simple.]

[ It seems his feet betray himself to this newfound feeling. Against all rational thought, walking with her.

She means to prepare flowers for the king and his people. Such gifts aren’t uncommon to royalty, and he would know. During his reign, the palace courtyards were filled with small fields of sylleblossoms, courtesy of the Oracle. But where would she purchase seeds during the dead of winter? The markets are their best bet, or if desperate, the apothecaries for seeds with which they may concoct. ]

To the market, then.

[ And so they proceed. Somnus is careful to keep his gaze fixed forward, yet it seems that he’s hyper aware of her presence— her warm demeanor, the cadence of her voice... Abruptly, he asks: ]

Will you be tending the garden on your own?

[He'll come with her, then? Aerith makes no effort to hide how pleased she is by that, considering he's hardly seemed interested in spending extended time with her. Such is the case when it comes to such brooding and stoic individuals, she supposes.

Not that it's ever stopped her from annoying them into giving in.

At his question, her head tips and she peers sidelong to him.]

Hm... I kind of want to open a flower shop, so yes, I guess so? I want to grow a lot of flowers and make people smile with them. Although I wouldn't mind people helping me. Are you offering?

[ He has no business attending to any gardens, he's had no experience, and even as an ancient spirit, he's had no time to appreciate nature as it blooms--

But as chance happens, her sidelong glance towads him is met with one of his own, and in that moment their eyes meet. He sees the earth within them, prairies and spring and life and beauty, and at once, he's struck silent.

Somnus' eyes narrow at her, as if scorned. Rationally, he knows, this feeling isn't true. He's enchanted, yes; but he cannot stop it, which only feeds to guilt and powerlessness. Thus, all he feels is another pained, dull thump within his chest. A single word escapes, blasphemous: ]

Yes.

Edited 2021-02-03 03:58 (UTC)

[There's that look again. Aerith can't seem to figure out what it means or why he's giving it. She's usually the one with the imploring, prying gazes. When he gives her one of his own, it almost feels weighted. To be fair, Aerith doubts there's much with Somnus that isn't weighted in some fashion. He's a serious individual, obviously takes things seriously.

It makes his response all the more surprising to hear.]

Wow, really? [She does nothing to disguise the transparency in her expression.] I didn't take you as the sort to like flowers. I was actually pretty sure you were looking for reasons to avoid me. Why the sudden change?

[Sympathy, maybe?]

[ He has to maintain some semblance of control. That he would even try is laughable, given that the relinquished all control upon his death, but he must.

Now that they've stopped in their path, Somnus elevates his gaze to hers, searching her face but finding no answers to his quandaries. Hollowness settles in when he cautious himself for the third time that what this enchantment encourages, he cannot-- and should not-- harbor.

But his hand lifts, then, and his fingers dust tenderly across her cheek, correcting a strand of hair back to the sweep of her long bangs. His expression maintains its reticence, but his tone... there is something softer there, distant and mournful, even as his hand drops back down to his side. ]

Ask not, Healer.

[It's an odd feeling, to have someone look at her so intensely. Sometimes, she's sure that Cloud has looked at her in the same way once or twice. The truth of what comes for her in a currently frozen world remains with her. A foreboding? It's something of that nature. An inevitability.

He leaves her with only more questions, more so when he fixes her hair for her. Instead of pressing him, which is no doubt a temptation, she only smiles.]

If you start calling me by my name, I'll let it go. You need some help saying it? It's super easy.

[She leans over to him right up into his personal space with a gleeful look.]

Say it with me, hmm? Aeriiiith. Not 'Healer.' Aerith. Not 'Maiden.' Aeriiiiiiith.

[ Gazing at him as such, a coy smile upon her lips and a gentle brightness in her earthy eyes, ...she is too close, and, terrifyingly, too tempting to touch again. The typical pallor of his face remains, but his eyes traitorously, briefly dip to her lips before snapping up. This enchantment is truly powerful, but if it is within his power, she will never know of his succumbing.

Somnus takes one step back, rigid and frowning, angling a shoulder at her. At the very least, he can create some much needed distance between them. Whereas before his expression hinted at sorrow and longing, now it seems he’s doubled down on his usual grimness so much as to present a glower.

He needs a crutch to stave off this affection, and dourness might just help.

(It feels as if he’s bleeding.) ]

The market is before us. Let us find these seeds.

[She has to hide a laugh. He's so uncomfortable and it's not a falsehood to say that she kind of enjoys getting under his skin. (Not even 'kind of.' She definitely likes doing that sort of thing, though to do so is never exactly malicious on her part.)]

You're no fun.

[A gentle teasing and as he turns to offer shoulder, Aerith is... undeniably Aerith, curling an arm loosely around his to bring him along, blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil Somnus seems to face.]

His Majesty said he likes larkspur flowers, so I'd like to see if I can find some of those. I grew lilies back home, so I'd like to grow lilies here. But I won't be too particular. I'm sure they might have different seeds available for different seasons.

[Although if she grows them inside to begin with, the season won't really matter, will it?]

[ The shoulder had been to pivot away form her, and uninvited, she takes his arm anyway. Perhaps this is recompense for when his hand had brushed away a hair at her cheek.

A moment passed where he breathes in and out his nose, slowly. ]

The larkspur-seeds... [ He lifts a hand slightly towards the stalls, gesturing to them. ] At your leisure. [ —Because even though Somnus has pledged to help, this is wholly out of his area of expertise.

Indeed, he knows he isn’t fun, as she says; he also knows that she ought to be on the arm or someone who complements the light she brings, not dampens it like himself. The warmth from her, gracious and gentle, burns. It should not be his.

They arrive at the market. While there are no carriages traversing the stalls, there are far more people bustling around them. It is crowded, loud, with bartering and waving and shouting and laughter as vendors advertise their stocks and customers haggle with them. Somnus usually finds himself leading, however with this topic, she’ll have to navigate to wherever they might need to go. ]

Edited (Repetition ) 2021-02-03 20:45 (UTC)

[Is that tension? Perhaps. Hardly any different than when Cloud has felt the same at how very forward Aerith can sometimes be. She doesn't address it either which way, likely for the sake of company's comfort. (Or simply because it might not be worth addressing. It's never been her intention to deliberately cause someone discomfort, after all.)

At the market, it's people, people, and... more people. Lively. A little like the slums and she eases into what feels a bit like familiarity. She's there for seeds, yes, but she can't help looking over the other various stalls and occasionally stopping at one here for fresh fruit, another one over here for jewellery, and so on. Seems like they could probably find just about anything if they looked hard enough for it.

And of course, Somnus being the unfortunate victim in this circumstance, gets pulled to each one too. At least until he gets tired of her being attached to him.

Flowers are an eventuality at a stall with various sized pots and makes, pre-made smaller beds for windowsills, and an array of seeds, complete with directions. (How much sunlight, if direct sunlight or not, watering procedures.) Larkspur, lilies, roses, and no shortage of options for her to choose from.]

Hmmm...

[It's only then that she frees his arm in favour of tapping at her chin in contemplation. What to pick, and how many? It's not like she came here in a pile of money.]

I should pick a few to start with. I don't have a place I could sell them yet, so I can just grow some back at my place.

[ He does naught but be guided through the stalls, silent as she makes her way through the vendors that sell trinkets, jewelry, and garb. Everything but flowers initially seems to catch her eye, and he remains patient, compliant with her whims. For one brief moment a particular stand does catch his attention, that of an artist showcasing his glassware and polished metal designs, one of them a delicate hairpin gleaming in the overcast light like the moon through fog...

Then she finds the flower stands. The moment her arm leaves his, he finds himself taking an inadvertent half-step forward after her, only to stop himself in time for the ill-advised chase. His arm, bereft of hers, falls limply to his side. It is colder without her.

Yet she seem happy as she chats about the flora, at ease and content. While he has no experience tending to flowers, he’s listening to each and every word she speaks, taking in this new information.

She’s worried about lack of space to house extra flowers. He all too readily volunteers a solution: ]

My residence is yours to use.

[ Her smile is as precious as petals; may such flowers bring her more joy. He’ll learn to cultivate for her, and any for flowers she lends him, he’ll be meticulous in their care.

...

Gods, how far he has fallen.

Somnus keeps his slackened, stoic expression upon one of the lilies. ]

[She's still thinking about the layout of her residence in this new and comfortable world, where she can put flowers, the best places for light exposure or shade depending on what's needed, the number of windows she can use, and so on. He speaks and at first, Aerith isn't quite sure she's heard him right.

Did... Did he just offer her the use of his place, too? In addition to her own? It's not like her place is filled with much, honestly. She hasn't been in Camelot for very long, after all.

She looks up from one of the pre-made beds, a cute little trio of planters in porcelain, and as she looks over to Somnus, she raises her eyebrows. He doesn't strike her as the sort to crack jokes. She can only assume that he's being serious.

Aerith laughs, though it's a bit soft. Incredulous almost.]

Oh, that's not necessary. You should be filling your home with things you like, not with things I like.

[But it's such a kind thought. So kind, so selfless, so overwhelmingly charitable from a man she would not have defined necessarily as charitable. But then, maybe it's just his way of showing her that he's more than a brooding, pensive individual.]

I should have space in mine. Although I guess if I plan to open up a shop eventually I'd probably need more. I might end up taking your offer anyway, but let's hope it doesn't come to that. If you really left it up to me, I'd probably drown you in flowers.

[ She jests that she would bury him in flowers, and he would let her.

The shadows shift upon his expression as a shade of a grimace washes then withdraws over his face. Her laugher pains him, in that he is incapable of facilitating both more of it. Yet such a sound shouldn’t be his to hear, much less covet. It’s mistake after mistake to continue to continue to remain near her moment after moment, but it’s as if he’s powerless to stop it. This highlights his glaring weakness, for after millennia of fealty to the Six, he strays so easily towards this selfish desire to remain.

Still, his offer has no deadline. Thus, he replies: ]

Do as you will.

[ Somnus elevates his gaze towards the reason why they are here: the flowers. They pale in comparison to her in both beauty and kindness... neither have a place within his temporary residence.

The vendor in front of them, who had been watching their exchange the entire time, speaks up and urges them to hurry to pick their flowers. ]

[She can't even pry a smile out of him. Somnus is one tough audience. Before she can make any additional attempts, however, one vendor privy to their slightly awkward exchange catches her attention.

An earnest "sorry" later and Aerith finally decides on larkspur seeds, lily of the valley, and primroses, showing each to Somnus, though not expecting him to give her any grand input. (It does not seem to her that he knows much about flowers.) And as added accent, she is set on the triumvirate plant bed. It's a good start and each should provide at the very least something colourful.

She can always come back for more pots later.]

I think this is a good start.

[She claims triumphantly, looking them over while she readies her phone for payment processing, and decently pleased that she got enough that she won't have an excess to carry. In truth, her purchasing has taken this into consideration. She'll have to return them to her place, in the end.]

Do you see anything you like or want?

[Aerith looks over to Somnus before choosing to finalise. He's come this way with her. It'd be unfair not to offer him something as a 'thank you.']

[ As she makes the exchange and purchase, Somnus watches on in silence, seemingly unmoving save for a few rustles of his cloak as his hand shifts beneath. As for which he longs, the answer is not the flowers but who stands before him in all of her grace.

He steadies himself, pausing, and that pause might be an indication of either thought or hesitation. At last, he responds, his voice slightly coarse and gravely, as if the utterance had to be hooked and dragged past his lips. ] ...There is.

[ What tender emotion does he dare to harbor when his hands are bloodied? It is too much. Never mind being buried in flowers, he feels as if he's currently drowning. Nevertheless, he turns. ] Come.

[ And at this, he'll lead her not back into the market, but away from it. ]

[He responds cryptically. As she thinks about it, his behaviour since the moment their paths crossed has been a bit strange. Not necessarily bad, just odd when it comes down to how she normally thinks of him. But he's humoured her thus far. Aerith sees no reason she shouldn't do the same for him.

He plays the navigator, but wherever his interests lie, they aren't in the hustle and bustle of people or the busy ambience that embraces them. So she follows him as he weaves them a path from the market.

As she follows after, she brightens up with a thought.]

I can grow you some flowers, too. Then you can have something at your place that reminds you of me. When these start growing, you'll have to come take a look at them and you can pick one. It'll be on the house.

[ As they continue to walk with him in the lead, his head remains raised as he navigates the streets. It seems as if he's searching for a place with less people. ]

...Spare thy talents, [ He replies with the edges of his voice softened, as if to mitigate any potential offense. Those flowers should be for herself or for those she wishes to gift-- other than himself, with whom they would be wasted. In any case, they are meant foremost for Arthur. ] for the King of Avalon bids them of you first.

[She smiles. That's kind of him. He's remembered her saying that she specifically wanted to grow some larkspur for King Arthur. Somnus might not seem the most openly kind person on the outside, but that he remembered implies something she wanted was something he perceived as important.

It's a warming thought, really.]

Welllll... I have quite a few seeds, so I don't think I'll be giving away all of them right away. I think I can spare one or two plants for you. But if it's because you don't like flowers, you can just say that, too. You don't have to be nice.

[And she wouldn't judge him much if he wasn't either. Everyone is the way they are and usually it's for a reason. She doesn't have to agree and sometimes she doesn't. But maybe that just comes with the territory of being so remarkably easy-going.]

[ At last, they arrive at a quad between loftier residential buildings, quaintly maintained and without too many pedestrians milling about. Sidewalks with stone still dusted with snow cut paths between white lawns between buildings, not unmanageable through which to walk. It is quiet.

Perhaps here, one day, her flowers will be delivered by courier to residents, or mayhap her flowers will decorate the sills and stoops of these homes, bringing hope and joy to all those who watch them bloom.

"--if it's because you don't like flowers--"

The crest of Lucis' Line, which started with him, honors the chrysanthemum's ephemeral bloom. Like both his blood and power, the flower-star had been passed through the dynasty; however, like her, most would not assume that the Founder King would have sanctified such a delicate symbol, much less find peace in the presence of flowers for his rigid and severe nature.

At the middle of the courtyard, he turns to face her. (Another mistake, to look upon her face.) A puff of cloud catches with his breath as he speaks. ] You are too kind, Healer, and...

[ But what he wants, what he prefers, what his heart wishes for, matters not, and so he lets the topic die in melancholic silence. He brought her here for a reason, and that is to bid farewell-- because he cannot continue this any longer, not in good conscious. He gazes down at her, the austere steel of his eyes gentler than before. But before he leaves, he has something for her.

Something that, in the market, he had used his newfound kinetic magic to lift from one of the stalls and deposit coin as payment in return as she had bartered with the flower-vendor. But he stalls. ] ...your generosity, overwhelming.

[It is cold. A hold of the season in the midst of its beauty. The further away they get from people, the more aware of it she becomes. That almost makes sense, actually. When people are together, there's a certain warmth present. The absence of that makes everything else a bit more pronounced.

There he goes again.

Healer.

Why is he allergic to her name? She begins to correct him just once more and after some consideration, she pauses. Maybe he's been doing that intentionally all along? Not necessarily to get under her skin, but because he knows she'll correct him. Maybe he likes that she corrects him. Before she can determine how to proceed past that line, whatever line it might be, she plays catch up.]

You were kind to me. Why shouldn't I be kind to you? Even if you hadn't been, I still would be.

[Aerith shakes her head and after a moment, she brings her gaze off of him and looks around indicatively. Not to their immediate surroundings, but to Camelot. She means the region, the world in its entirety.]

People like you and me get brought here, not necessarily understanding why we specifically were chosen. There's nothing easy about that. Some people miss their homes, their loved ones. I'm not sure being unpleasant would accomplish anything. Why make things harder for anyone? That's not what I want to do.

[She shakes her head and as she tips up her chin to rest her gaze on him again, Aerith continues.]

I'm just doing what I think is right.

Edited (Oops, I missed a word!) 2021-02-05 03:45 (UTC)

Cupid's Arrow

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