[ you ever just kind of flop down in a bed of flowers (that aren't roses, ow) and enjoy it? well that's clearly what grace is doing, so. it doesn't matter if molly does it, she's there. this is a GREAT place to take a nap, thank you for asking ]
[He'll just come flop next to her, then. In fact, a fine orange friend will join too. climbing right onto grace's open and inviting lap she has so willingly shared by daring to lay down.]
[ The memory is clear and bright, in the way that most terrifying experiences are, when you think them over.
You’ve just descended the stairs to the speakeasy of this Gentleman you’ve heard so much about, when a tabaxi turns to your group. She starts:
“Halt friends, I do not r— Lucien?” Her eyes widen in shock, but you still don’t know who she is, you’re racking your memory, but the name
The name makes you feel ill, all of a sudden, an itch at the back of your skull. There’s no time to consider it.
“It has been too long, two ye–”
“Far too long!”
“Two years!” She laughs, bright, hands still gripping your shoulders on either side, tightly, like an old, old friend. “Look at you! You grew out your hair! And you are covered in tattoos!”
There’s something in her expression that seems confused about this, as her eyes flit to your hands, your neck.
“We’ll catch up, we need a table, we need drinks for me and my compatriots.”
“Of course, you– these are your friends now?” She looks over your group, appraising, but then goes to do as you’ve asked. Drinks and a table.
You now get a better look up at the top, some skulking individuals with long dark cloaks and dark armor, carrying what looks almost like a heavy crossbow, but it’s a long, metal rod. You’ve only seen them in use here and there. A recently emerging technology that has been largely guarded within use of the empire itself.
The second she turns, you give Fjord - a green, half-orcish man, a little pat on the back and hiss a whisper at him. “I’m sorry, this is my nightmare, please just go with it? It’s Lucien.”
He simply looks a bit baffled in return. The tabaxi returns to the table, reaching her hands out for yours.
“Oh, too long.” She starts quickly, sitting up straighter, then her face suddenly turns apologetic. You see all the faces of your friends, twisted in confusion. They aren’t even trying to hide it.
“Nonagon. I apologize for using your old name. Nonagon, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Who can keep track these days? Again, a long story.” You manage to croak out. She doesn’t seem to notice. She just looks concerned.
“Nonagon, what happened? We watched you die.”
She looks expectant. As do the rest of them at the table. Jester, Fjord, Nott, Caleb, Beau. All of their eyes are trained on you. They all await your answer.
“I’m sorry, it— I think it all went a bit fuzzy at the end there. Won’t you remind me?”
The tabaxi looks almost stricken, but she recovers. Casting a glance at the others at the table, and then,
“I don’t trust these people, Luci-- Nonagon, but—
If you trust them, then I trust you. You gave us a speech. We had a fine meal. We all got ready there in the forest. . . She said it would be hard for us to tell whether or not it worked at first, but we went and checked, and you were not breathing. For a good hour, you were not breathing and you had gone cold. We knew then that-- that we had lost you. We checked, and I'm very attuned to vitals, as you know. There was no heartbeat. So we waited longer. The sun rose, and nothing. So, as you told us, if anything were to go wrong, we had to get rid of any sign, any trace. So not far from the Tomb Taker hideout, we buried you and we went our separate ways. She took the tome, the mage woman, it was part of the arrangement you had with her. Her contract said she was in the right and that we knew better than to go toe to toe with her and her ilk.”
They all turn to watch your reaction. Eyes on eyes on eyes on eyes.
[ if grace seemed a little surprised and unsure at the cat jumping in her lap, it's nothing compared to her look once the memory fades.
there's a lot of questions in her mind, but instead she raises a hand to hesitantly pet the cat on her lap. ]
... We don't have to talk about it. [ it's the first thing she says, because she does feel the imbalance between both of them already, secret wise. and maybe it's better if she doesn't know these things? she did not sign up for this. ]
[He's just looking away at this point - this memory isn't as . . . jolting as some of the others in terms of shock and horror, but it's still. the adrenaline and anxiety of the moment takes a second to drain away.]
I know. [ both in an "i believe you" way, and-- well, it's a name. he can choose what he wants it to be. she's still petting the cat with one hand, but she reaches with her other to pat him, too. ] Molly suits you way better anyway.
[ there is a mauk missing, but that is not the point, since it turns out contact was a bad idea and, well. it's not grace's identity crisis, but this memory has a lot of the same feeling of dread and adrenaline. and a healthy dose of guilt. ]
This is. Horribly sad. Grace? It's a little difficult to understand the whole turning into a turtle thing, but the rest of it - lose and grief and trying to comfort a child. Well. That he actually does understand pretty well. That hurts.]
Ah-- We don't have to talk about it. If you don't want to. I don't have to have seen it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
week 2, monday
no subject
You seem to have made yourself comfortable?
no subject
Comfortable enough. I love the free mattress, but sometimes it's too comfortable, you know? I'm not used to having a real bed anymore.
[ sleeping in dirt is comforting sometimes, it's fine. ]
1/2
Oh, yes, fully understand the rarity of a good--
2/2
You’ve just descended the stairs to the speakeasy of this Gentleman you’ve heard so much about, when a tabaxi turns to your group. She starts:
“Halt friends, I do not r— Lucien?” Her eyes widen in shock, but you still don’t know who she is, you’re racking your memory, but the name
The name makes you feel ill, all of a sudden, an itch at the back of your skull. There’s no time to consider it.
“It has been too long, two ye–”
“Far too long!”
“Two years!” She laughs, bright, hands still gripping your shoulders on either side, tightly, like an old, old friend. “Look at you! You grew out your hair! And you are covered in tattoos!”
There’s something in her expression that seems confused about this, as her eyes flit to your hands, your neck.
“We’ll catch up, we need a table, we need drinks for me and my compatriots.”
“Of course, you– these are your friends now?” She looks over your group, appraising, but then goes to do as you’ve asked. Drinks and a table.
You now get a better look up at the top, some skulking individuals with long dark cloaks and dark armor, carrying what looks almost like a heavy crossbow, but it’s a long, metal rod. You’ve only seen them in use here and there. A recently emerging technology that has been largely guarded within use of the empire itself.
The second she turns, you give Fjord - a green, half-orcish man, a little pat on the back and hiss a whisper at him.
“I’m sorry, this is my nightmare, please just go with it? It’s Lucien.”
He simply looks a bit baffled in return. The tabaxi returns to the table, reaching her hands out for yours.
“Oh, too long.” She starts quickly, sitting up straighter, then her face suddenly turns apologetic. You see all the faces of your friends, twisted in confusion. They aren’t even trying to hide it.
“Nonagon. I apologize for using your old name. Nonagon, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Who can keep track these days? Again, a long story.” You manage to croak out. She doesn’t seem to notice. She just looks concerned.
“Nonagon, what happened? We watched you die.”
She looks expectant. As do the rest of them at the table. Jester, Fjord, Nott, Caleb, Beau. All of their eyes are trained on you. They all await your answer.
“I’m sorry, it— I think it all went a bit fuzzy at the end there. Won’t you remind me?”
The tabaxi looks almost stricken, but she recovers. Casting a glance at the others at the table, and then,
“I don’t trust these people, Luci-- Nonagon, but—
If you trust them, then I trust you. You gave us a speech. We had a fine meal. We all got ready there in the forest. . . She said it would be hard for us to tell whether or not it worked at first, but we went and checked, and you were not breathing. For a good hour, you were not breathing and you had gone cold. We knew then that-- that we had lost you. We checked, and I'm very attuned to vitals, as you know. There was no heartbeat. So we waited longer. The sun rose, and nothing. So, as you told us, if anything were to go wrong, we had to get rid of any sign, any trace. So not far from the Tomb Taker hideout, we buried you and we went our separate ways. She took the tome, the mage woman, it was part of the arrangement you had with her. Her contract said she was in the right and that we knew better than to go toe to toe with her and her ilk.”
They all turn to watch your reaction. Eyes on eyes on eyes on eyes.
The memory fades. ]
no subject
there's a lot of questions in her mind, but instead she raises a hand to hesitantly pet the cat on her lap. ]
... We don't have to talk about it. [ it's the first thing she says, because she does feel the imbalance between both of them already, secret wise. and maybe it's better if she doesn't know these things? she did not sign up for this. ]
no subject
. . . Maybe for the best.
[. . .]
That isn't-- That isn't my name or anything.
no subject
[ there is a mauk missing, but that is not the point, since it turns out contact was a bad idea and, well. it's not grace's identity crisis, but this memory has a lot of the same feeling of dread and adrenaline. and a healthy dose of guilt. ]
no subject
This is. Horribly sad. Grace? It's a little difficult to understand the whole turning into a turtle thing, but the rest of it - lose and grief and trying to comfort a child. Well. That he actually does understand pretty well. That hurts.]
Ah-- We don't have to talk about it. If you don't want to. I don't have to have seen it.
no subject
Please. You can't tell anyone about it. [ she's holding onto herself ] It-- It has to stay a secret.
[ he already agreed, but she doesn't seem to notice that so much? ]
no subject
[Holding out a hand, to shake on it.]
I swear. It stays with me.
no subject
Thank you. Sorry, I just... I don't know what's happening back on the train. I don't know if she's-- okay.