Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 8, 2016 4:22:21 GMT
Glancing to his side, he noticed a broken beer bottle resting on the floor. “I want to show you.” Reaching for a shard of the bottle, he picked it up and brought it to the inside of his arm, pressing down and then dragging it slightly. Biting his lip to deal with the pain, he made a small cut on his arm and then pulled the glass back, allowing the blood from his arm to well up and spill out. “See,” he said quietly. The deep black blood reflected light just as well as red blood would. As the drops traveled down his skin, they left a gray trail behind. After a few drops leaked out, he brought his hand up to the wound, casting some more magic to seal it up.
Wiling the blood off on his pants, he held his arm up anew. “Looks, I can heal myself too. This is a big part of myself, and instead of telling you, I wanted to show you.”
I want to show you. Those words. They reminded him of another time. Of a different experience, and Wern paled. He didn’t want to see, didn’t want to feel. “Wait, please don’t.” But it was too late. Lasair dug into his arm, broken glass from a bottle long since tossed his scapel. Wern’s insides churned. Rocked, back and forth with his headache as Lasair bit his lip, pain dotting his face. Covering his own mouth, he flinched as the blood spilled, and indeed, it was black. Black as the night, spilling grey against Lasair’s skin. But soon, the black ceased, covered by Lasair’s hand, and when he took his palm away, the wound was closed. And he held it out like a trophy, a spectacle for Wern to understand, to rejoice in. And albeit amazed, he was saddened a bit.
Sheepishly, he ran a hand across the surface, warm from the magic, the blood, still in the pores of Lasiar’s skin. “ Lasair.” He wanted to show him. Wern tried to repeat the line in his head. But each time, it seemed to change in meaning. Just like with Abigail. “Don’t hurt yourself for such a simple thing. I- I believed you. And you—“ The blood was still there, on the glass shard, on Lasair’s pants. Wern looked away.
“I appreciate the gesture I just.” Wern didn’t just want to know about the magic. It was great— amazing, in fact. But it still scared him. Even more so now, now that Lasair could harm himself so easily, and could heal with just as much ease. Wern envied him for that. “Just, that was scary, you know?” Lowering his eyes, he quickly bit his lip. No, that didn’t sound right. “I meant, you hurting yourself. Not the blood. Or the healing. I just. Don’t hurt yourself again.”
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 10, 2016 0:04:46 GMT
His smile faded as Wern’s confusion coated his face, confusion mixed with concern and fear, and even a hint of nausea. It was scary? But, Lasair had been so excited when he learned the skill, and even got to practice it too. It didn’t make sense to him, seeing Wern being fearful of it. The fear made him falter, it shrunk his self confidence some.
“Okay,” he said softly. After a moment or so passed, he spoke up again. “Hey, are you getting tired? It’s kind of late.”
The way that Lasair said it, Wern had said something wrong. Something that Lasair didn’t understand, didn’t like. He had hurt him. Again, guilt wavered, and Wern shrunk even more. Looking outside, it was indeed, dark. But the dark never meant sleep to him. It only meant the quiet, the softness that night gave, and the eventual pain. “No, but I —I don’t want to hold you here any longer than you want.” Wern spoke, slowly getting up. “You don’t have to stay here. I’ll be fine.” Because it always ended up fine. At least, that’s what Wern kept telling himself.
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 10, 2016 6:02:26 GMT
The small smile returned as he looked at Wern. “I want to stay a little while longer. Until you can sleep. It’s the least I can do.” He stood up then, offering a hand to the man still on the ground. There was more to the house that he could see, but only if the man would allow him. He needed to take things slowly with the man, there was surly a hangover coming and he could use the help caring for that.
Brightening, Wern took Lasair’s hand. “Alright. Thank you.” The man offering to stay longer made Wern surprisingly happy, and it was hard for Wern to pinpoint why. Perhaps it was nice to know that someone cared— to know he wasn’t lost in a city of madness.
Looking away, a blush crept upon Wern’s face, at least, until he pulled himself up fully. That’s when he paled, feeling a very familiar not so happy feeling creep it’s way up his throat. Oh god. Covering his mouth, he staggered to the hallway, almost tripping on beer bottles as he did before sprinting to the bathroom to release the toxins inside of himself, gagging, and so forth into the toilet as Kaia honked furiously from her hiding place in the bathtub.
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 10, 2016 8:24:27 GMT
It was nice to see Wern acting more normal, more human, as opposed to being lost in a drunken state of despair. But the happiness was short lived as the man ran off to the bathroom. Shaking his head and chuckling a little, the ander followed after him, patting the man’s back to try and sooth the pain he was feeling. “Easy there. Try to take deep breaths, it’ll pass.” Drowning yourself in alcohol had its costs, the ander knew that quite well already.
Oh cogs, how humiliating, Wern thought, letting out another heave, trembling as he gripped the toilet seat. Yeah, he had bad bouts of hangover syndrome. Was used to getting wasted and so forth. But this? This was bad on a whole new level. At least when he was in that state, no one could see him. And now, now Lasair was laughing at him. Maybe not outwardly, but inwardly, surely. Wern was a mess, everything was a mess. The only bright side to this was the hand on his back, which was a lot nicer then just listening to Kaia honk. But still, the whole ordeal was awful.
Choking slightly, Wern shook his head, trembling as he grabbed at the air, searching for a towel— any towel, to dab the bile from his face. There was no way he was going to look up until he knew he could easily hide his face from the other. And when he did find that soft fluffy surface, he put it to his face, wiping away, only to feel something stiff scratch back. Pulling away, he realized that the towel was dotted with blood. Frowning, he let out a slight groan, tossing it further to the side, where he didn’t want to bother with it now, or explain where the blood had come from. It was better to let that die, and pray that Lasair had not seen it.
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 10, 2016 9:17:12 GMT
In the time it took Lasair to realize that Wern was searching for a towel, the man managed to find one and pull it to his face. Oops, he couldn’t make the deduction quick enough this time. But when the towel was tossed aside, he caught it, furrowing his eyebrows when he saw the dried blood on its surface. He didn’t say anything though, not yet at least, and instead handed the man crouching over the toilet a clean towel, one that should be softer on his face.
Setting the first towel down so that the blood was folded inside, he returned to Wern’s side and rubbed his back again. “You doing alright? Want some water?” he offered, thinking through ways he could soothe the pain.
Graciously, Wern took the towel, dabbing his face with it as he trembled, hopefully the last of the toxin out of his system. Maybe he had drank a bit too much that night. And oh god, that headache. It throbbed and he let out a groan, wanting to nod, but nodding was very hard to do at that point. “Yes please,” He wheezed getting up. Hopefully during that time he could clean up a bit, like, for example, brush his teeth. “Yeah.” Wern repeated. “Water would be great. Thanks.”
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 11, 2016 6:01:45 GMT
“I’ll be right back,” he said quickly, turning to head out of the room and back to the kitchen. He opened a couple cabinets, trying to find a glass. When he found one, he filled it with water from the tap and then set it down. The ander could tell that the man needed some space, some time. But not too much. So he delayed his return, but only by a minute or two.
Walking back into the bathroom, glass in hand, he handed it to the man, but if the man couldn’t take it, he would set it down on the counter instead. “Can I get you anything else?”
Lasair left him alone, and it soothed Wern a bit. Enabled him to make his way up to the sink, to fumble for a tooth brush as Kaia settled in her makeshift nest in the tub. Glancing in the mirror, he was pale, eyes, reddened. Tears dabbed at the corner of his eyes, caught in mid choke. And ugh, his mouth tasted awful. Putting extra toothpaste on his brush, he scrubbed, only to choke mid brush. Gagging, he tried not to throw up. He really didn’t want to. So he covered his mouth, breathing throw his nose in attempt to one, not swallow, and two, not throw up. But it didn’t matter. He spat into the sink, coughing again as he ran the water, practically drenching his shirt, if it wasn’t already filthy from before. Cursing, Wern rubbed his face with the towel Lasair gave him, staring into his reflection. He wanted to change his shirt, wanted to get out of the shirt that smelt of bile and beer.
Turning, he looked for anything to wear. And at one point, he had nearly forgotten. The blanket he tossed into the tub of Kaia. Removing his shirt, he figured he would have enough time to get it. Kaia wouldn’t mind. At least, that’s what he thought, but when he first started tugging at the red blanket, the bird honked angrily at him.
“Kaia.” He grumbled, pulling on the fabric. “Give it to me.” But the bird honked, rising up and biting him, only for Wern to shoo at the bird, having Kaia run out of the tub and out the door past… Lasair.
Paling even more, Wern realized he wasn’t wearing his shirt. Scrambling, he tried to hide himself, the layers of his weight, his obesity, and most of all, the scars on his stomach, some old, others, fresh. Some but tiny pinpricks, others, drawn, as if gone over, and over to remind him that they were there. Quickly, Wern grabbed the blanket, tossed it over himself, and cowered underneath the fabric. Please, please, he spoke in his mind. This is too much. First the magic, and now this? He didn’t want this anymore. He didn’t want anyone to know. To see. And now Lasair had seen. And the black blood. It returned. Itched inside of his stomach, but it wasn’t black because of Ander traits. No, the spiders had returned, asking to be free from his stomach, from his body, from his blood. And oh, did he want them to escape, to leave him alone. To just let him be.
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 11, 2016 7:34:33 GMT
The first thing he noticed was the lack of a shirt. The second thing he noticed was the scars. The third thing he noticed was the pained look on Wern’s face, the despair, the stress.
He set the glass of water down on the sink, his face calm and collected. “I’ll give you some more time. I’ll be in the front room when you’re ready.” He turned and left the room, walking calmly to the room where they had been sitting before, and sat down on the floor. Wern could take all the time he needed. And they might not talk about those lines tonight, but tomorrow would be a new day.
Crumbling, Wern listened for the click of the door. But there was none. Lasair left it open. But his shoes, it carried the sound of his presence leaving the opening, to somewhere else in the house. He had to have seen. But maybe he didn’t. He could of seen Wern hiding, could of presumed he just needed space. Yeah. That was it. Getting up, he wrapped the blanket around him, kicking the dirtied shirt to the side. Walking out, he looked both ways, making sure the towel was wrapped tightly before he walked to the laundry room where some clothes hung, drying. One shirt was luckily dry from a previous endeavor, and Wern dropped the blanket, moving to put on the cloth. At least, he got halfway before he looked at the scars across his stomach, tracing them, fingers, trembling. Yeah. If only he could heal them as easy as Lasair did his own.
Sighing, Wern picked up the blanket. Found comfort in its warmth. Again, he draped it over his shoulders and walked out, but this time, stopping back in the bathroom to grab the drink- the kind gesture. He was going to have to thank Lasair about it and hope the conversation diverted itself. Grasping the glass, he proceeded, making sure to be quiet as he could when he returned to the living room. “T-thank you.” Wern mumbled, raising the cup before taking a seat next to Lasair. “I, uh, appreciate your help.”
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 12, 2016 4:25:08 GMT
Lasair focused his eyes on the deactivated Goya; tracing the patterns with his eyes. In on direction, to the edge, then back in the reverse direction, to that edge. Pick a different starting point, find a different path. Over and over, change something little, repeat.
And then a mumbled sound came to his ears, forcing him to stop his tracing game coming to an eye as he looked towards the other. A new shirt and a blanket coated his shoulders now. Lasair sent a warm simile towards the other. “It’s no problem. Do you need me to do anything else?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the other, but being careful not to make it seem like staring.
"All you need is love." -John Lennon
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