deercountry | September & October Catch-All

Perhaps it was an effect of his Paleblood, but Oscar swore he felt Vyng's joy reflect in the warmth of the flame. It did Oscar's heart good, seeing another and helping them experience some of the warmth that they gave to others. Perhaps... just be-ing wasn't such a strange thing after all.

"Religions aren't very common, either." Oscar explained. "There were Gods, but they left us. Still... that does make a little sense."

The explanation felt more like a metaphor than a literal reality. If Oscar closed his eyes, he could almost make out the connections, and see where the underlying meanings of the words were taking the listener.

In some ways, this was almost like the fairy tales he had read as a kid as well.

His thoughts strayed to his friends back in Remnant, and Oscar couldn't help but offer a bittersweet smile.

"That makes me think of someone back home. He always tried to find his center so he could help everyone else find theirs. And, when he was bothered by something? He spent a lot of time just... just being. Not like this... but meditating. and finding his stillness."

Lie Ren wasn't a Druid. He was far from it in some ways, but he was deeply empathic. Oscar couldn't help but wonder how Ren would feel when confronted with a notion like this.

[Free and comfortable as the shrikes were with the earthier side of their natures, flirting landed somewhere between a cherished pastime and a competitive sport when they were at home. To say nothing of how practiced the Warlords and their officers were in the arts of seduction--all very necessary to their jobs--and that is something Illarion hasn't thought about or practiced for years. (Death did that to a man.)

Gratifying how easy it is to slip back into, even if it's only play.]

No doubt.

[Wherever the conversation went from that--did it go anywhere, which Illarion scarcely expects--it's probably not for a public beach. There is a certain look in his unfocused eyes, though...

He settles back more comfortably on his heels now that they've traded meditation for conversation, resting his folded arms across his thighs.]

To walk, and to speak, at first. Not so unusual for mammals, I understand, but strange for elves, who come out the egg knowing both. [Descended from birds and not all that far, either.] We are odd, and have given up both eggs and precocity.

[Which is a story in and of itself; and the amusement on Illarion's narrow face says he fully expects more questions about that.]

After this, they learn to keep themselves safe in the wood; and to follow after their parents at their trades. But that is more expected for most children, yes? Or are yours different?

[Honestly, if the wolf had answered, Saxsice would've not even blinked. She's got enough manners to be nice to whoever! But she'll turn her attention to the super tall dude -- she's tall for a woman, 5'10" at least, but he wins.

Then she grins, toothily, giving Slippers III a beckoning sort of wave with both hands, in case she wants to accept scritches from multiple sources. Sometimes animals are able to tell what she is, sometimes not -- cats especially seem to hate her.]

Nice to meetcha both. You from the North Pole or somethin'?

And he still continues to point it out. I am starting to question my motivation for staying here.

[Yet stay there he does. He's curious to see what Vyng's methods will be for achieving a meditative state. He does what he's doing despite being an eccentric loon so Maul decides to wait before he storms off in a huff. It really has been a long time since he had someone else to meditate with.]

Not for fruit. Zabrak are carnivores. I read the phrase "nutty as a fruitcake" in a book somewhere. Nightbrothers and Sith both don't know that one. But it seems to fit you quite nicely.

"Oh, thank you. Vyng is a cool name too," she answers with a smile. "The incense? Oh, it's pretty easy to get anyway. I really don't mind sharing - I mean, it helps both of us anyway."

Willow leans back as the wind fans the flames towards her. "It's okay - I think we can blame the wind for that, not you."

...what?

[ Isn't this whole thing supposed to be about physicality and learning to connect motion to element? Why is Vyng asking him—

Wait, no, Mako. Think quick, on your feet. He's already shifting into something like a fighting stance when the question catches up to him. ]

Koalaotter.

Most people who remark on Vyng's name point out its elven origins, which is generally a good way to get on his bad side. But Willow seems to be giving a genuine compliment, so he accepts it with a quiet "aw, thanks".

"That's true," he says, in response to her rationale for sharing the incense. "We're helping everybody keep the beasts at bay."

At least Willow is forgiving. Vyng used to have finer control over his movements when taking other shapes — even something as volatile as fire. This new kind of shapeshifting, purely for its own sake and without any real end goal in mind, is a new experience. He's still settling in with it.

"So, what's your story?" Vyng asks. "Were you in the Dream too?"

The Frozen North, actually. But we actually met each other in the desert, if you can believe it.

[Slipper's intelligent eyes, meanwhile, are trained on the corndog — she knows food when she smells it — but she's never begged anyone for scraps, and she doesn't intend to start now.

When the woman offers both hands, though, the wolf calmly trots over with a quiet woof to investigate. Vyng watches with raised brows.]

...Hm! She doesn't normally go up to strangers like this. But she's saying there's something familiar about you.

[Vyng gives a quiet, good-natured chuckle.

It's strange. Although some of his time in Deerington is still fuzzy like a distant dream, there's something about Maul that makes Vyng uneasy — something that goes beyond Dark and Light. It goes deeper than what happened to Glitch, even. Because that, at least, can be blamed on the Dream's tendency to violently expose people's darkest traumas and fears. And while Glitch isn't obligated to forgive Maul (and quite frankly, he doesn't expect him to), Vyng also firmly believes in second chances for people who are willing to change.

And after being literally reborn in this strange world...don't they all deserve a second chance?

So for now, he doesn't examine those feelings too closely. Instead, Vyng lets out a breath and calmly lets that thought drift away. There will be plenty of time to unpack it later.]

Thank you.

[He knows it's not a compliment, but treats it like one anyway.]

We were on a pretty good roll. [Until Vyng fucked it up.] Shall we get back to it?

"It's a good habit to get into," Vyng remarks. "Whether you practice druidism or not. We can't control everything. Be-time helps you stay in the moment without getting too far ahead of yourself."

Druids don't have a monopoly on the practice, of course. Not all Druids meditate regularly, either. The beauty in Druidism is there is no single "correct" way to live by it...so long as you respect nature, the delicate bonds that hold it together, and everything about it — including the chaos it entails.

"You said religions aren't common where you're from," he adds. "Elemental magic was a thing, though?"

[The short answer elicits an intrigued hum from Vyng, who raises an eyebrow along with his quirked lips to signal his interest. It's a silent prompt for the other man to continue if he so chooses, but also a way for his meditation partner to graciously bow out. Even though Vyng isn't always subtle, he has enough experience flirting to simply enjoy the moment and let it pass once the thread has run its course.

Besides, conversations of childrearing don't (usually) lend themselves well to sexy talk. Right now, it's difficult for Vyng to imagine a world where elves laid eggs. He has laid eggs before, of course. But that was while inhabiting a chicken's body...

Man, though. An elven community where babies come out just knowing how to walk and talk? That sounds awful. Elves back home were insufferable enough about their children, who commonly trounce grown humans in different skills because of their sheer longevity.]

No. [There's a flat note to his tone, and Vyng averts his gaze for a moment.] They're not so different...

[He spent his early childhood training to join the Ranger Corps, like his father. And then once his father revealed his true heritage, he was suddenly expected to join the Court of the Forest. It was total bullshit.

But that's neither here nor there. Vyng stretches his long arms over his head, cracking his back to give his own unease an outlet. And to reposition his thoughts toward something more productive.]

So what made you different from other elves? Were you isolated from them, and you just evolved in your own way? Or was it something else?

[Vyng tries to grasp for Mako's hand. His other arm, meanwhile, pulls inward — summoning a quick wind gust that comes in from behind his sparring partner.

He's trying to combine his own weight and the elements to pull Mako onto the ground with him. While keeping their hands intertwined. Just like a pair of sea otters sleep with their tiny lil hands clasped together.]

Koala-otter Style!

Not—not particularly.

[ At least it's an honest answer.

Flynn has been a fragile thing all month, and that is a feeling he hates. Even the comfortable, familiar weight of his armor—or, rather, armor that he and Yuri purchased, because his actual armor is a twisted unsalvageable mass in several places—can't seem to make him feel secure in any way, and with everything with Yuri being so vague and home being such a faraway thing, it is really sinking in that Flynn is here, untethered but for Yuri and Repede, for good: that he has abandoned his dreams and everything he worked for, that he has left all the people who were counting on him behind with no real way of knowing whether there is another version of himself back there to take care of them.

It's a lot to handle, all of the weight of home piled up on top of him, but Flynn hadn't meant for this to happen. He wipes hurriedly at his own eyes, frowning hard. ]

I'm really fine, please don't worry about me, it's—the moon? I believe?

[ It is not. Cloverfield isn't even his patron! He's just... feeling it.

And there is in fact a shadow behind him, an armored thing shaped like himself draped over his chair, pressing invisible fingers into Flynn's skin. ]

"Yup, exactly," Willow agrees. "And that's especially important here with the new arrivals coming to shore."

She nods at the question that comes from the flames. "Yeah, that's right. I was in Deerington for... well, I guess it would've been a year next month if it hadn't fallen apart when it did. You know, give or take all the squid time. What about you? Were you from Deerington too, or have you always been here, or..?"

"That..."

Oscar trailed, momentarily glancing up at the sky-- at the moon that was remarkably in a single piece-- as if seeking answers.

"That's not easy to say."

A sigh. Perhaps, after all this, he did owe an explanation. Particularly if Vyng had associations with others either from Remnant or connected to people from Remnant-- word gets around quickly, after all."

"If you talk to any of us from Remnant, like Ruby and Qrow, everyone will insist that Magic isn't a thing. Our Auras, our Semblances... are unique to all of us. But, throughout all of the incarnations he lived through, the Wizard who once was called Ozma made certain to tell everyone who would live across time that magic wasn't to be trusted.

"... through fairy tales. So, the Maidens who he gave his elemental powers to? Only them and their successors can use them now. And, if you ask a regular person on the streets of Mistral? They'd tell you that it's all just a fairy tale. That there aren't really four women alive who can use the power of the elements... and that it's just a story."

[Vyng purses his lips together. "The moon", his ass. Sure, it affects people's blood. But he's pretty sure the moon doesn't create spiritual manifestations of people's angst...right in the middle of an otherwise warm, cozy tavern. And even if it did! Even if it did, that wouldn't make the problem any less real.]

You're telling me not to worry about it. [Vyng makes an effort to shift his gaze back to the man across from him. That's who he really needs to be focusing on right now.] ...But you seem like the kind of guy who worries about other people, a lot. Am I wrong?

[It takes all kinds. And somebody as long-lived as Vyng has met plenty of them. Also, after a year in Deerington? He's learned to spot that kind of person from a mile away.]

Oscar doesn't owe him anything. Vyng would be the first to tell him as much. But if the boy wants to spill the tea or drop some lore? He isn't going to discourage him. He's too curious to do anything except listen.

Vyng is, in fact, familiar with the distinction between magic and Semblances. Qrow and Ruby both told him as much, and Vyng had no issue believing them. Shapeshifting and Elementalism aren't traditionally considered magic back home, either...though plenty of Sleepers would disagree.

"So, 'do as I say, not as I do'?" Vyng snorts, a small shower of sparks floating into the scorching-hot air just above him. "Seems like a convoluted way to go about it. But that's wizards for you, I guess."

"I was a Deer Towner like yourself, yeah," Vyng answers. "It looks like we're Trenchies now, though."

For better or for worse. As soon as Vyng stepped through the lighthouse and woke up inside the Hither and Yon bar, he knew deep down he couldn't stay. He was too different, had changed too much, to settle back into his old life. Not without aggressively ignoring the way reality was falling apart at the seams, anyway. It wasn't sustainable.

So here he sits. A lone fire crackling in this corner of the beach. But Vyng doesn't want to think too hard on all that. Instead, he focuses on the bright presences in front of him.

"How're you holding up?"

Yes. Let us.

[He's willing to try this again with Vyng given the man seems to run on random thoughts half the time, so this really doesn't seem out of the realm of how he usually acts.

Maul recenters himself in the Dark Side of the Force and goes back to letting his thoughts become an organized river, flowing in and out of his mind while he breathes gently in and out. He lets the Force flow through him and around him, connecting him to all living things. He can feel the squids in the ocean, small and unformed, so new in their life. There's the people in the city, each blood type feeling slightly different to his senses. All the animals and plants, so full of life as well.

He feels Vyng as well right by him, the energy coming off of him too. He probes outwards with his extrasensory perception, trying to sense what Vyng is made up of.]

[Subtleties of facial expression are too often still lost on Illarion, their nuances difficult to ((feel)); but the little hum of interest does not go missed. Maybe, maybe if...

Maybe they'll see where the rest of this conversation goes. (And oh, what he'd have to say on the conservation of elven insufferability across worlds!) That he's hit on a question already that's a little sore isn't a great sign, but hardly a fatal one either. Letting the other man ask the questions seems to be the safer ground, for the moment.]

We changed ourselves--to have more children, you see?

Elves live forever, unless they are killed; but, much to our sorrow, we bore very few children. One egg hatched, for every two-score laid in nests; our mothers might strive for centuries to conceive us.

[As he gets into the rhythm of the history, the old litany of his people, Illarion sits up straighter and uncrosses his arms. This deserved a certain dignity.]

This would not have mattered so much if we did not have much cause to die--but we did, for we long ago pledged our aid to mortals, had they need of us.

And so often did they need us! [A little flourish of his fingers emphasizes that need. ] Most of them for our skill in war, for that is where their straits were most dire and hopeless. So we came, their shining heroes and banes of tyrants, and we fought, and we died in our droves and myriads alongside our mortal allies.

[The conclusion of all this bloody heroism is likely quite easy to predict.]

Lore was something Oscar had in spades-- if he bothered to access the interminable library of experiences and memories from other lifetimes that existed in his unconscious mind. Whatever was missing from that archive...

Only Jinn, the ever wise, ever mischievous spirit of Knowledge, had.

And she wouldn't tell, not without the right questions at the right time.

"Is it really only Wizards?" Oscar asked. After all, he was ostensibly one himself, and he liked to think that he wasn't a hypocrite. "Most adults on Remnant who have any power seem like that. Then again... what's that phrase I learned in Deerington High? 'Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely.'"

Eye bet you did!

[Ruby goes quiet and watches as he enters his stance. Despite her calm demeanor her silver eye watched with an eager sort of curiosity. She was a born fighter and she was taking the opportunity to get a handle on just what Vyng was capable of.

Right up until his leg passed by her head and the bottle was knocked clean off. Then her eyes brighten like an excited kid and she claps her hands together.]

Oh my gosh- You got it one! That's so amazing!

To be fair, he doesn't blame fish for not wanting to swim with him at all. It's not like the fish here are domesticated, and he's higher on the food chain than them, so they have a good reason to want to flee. Especially since he's already eaten quite a few fish since he got here. Besides, he's really more looking for sapient company to swim with.

Which Vyng definitely qualifies as.

Excited by the suggestion, Luca springs up.

"Yeah! That's a great idea! Wanna go swimming now?"

That's not even—

[ Despite having spent a lot of time sparring with Korra—and with the air kids—that particular move takes Mako by surprise. The wind pushes, and Vyng pulls, and Mako tumbles forward. It's only his pro-bending experience that keeps it from being entirely successful: Mako gets halfway through the fall, laughing despite himself, and tucks his head inward, turning it into a roll and rooting his feet into the earth like Bolin always does. They both go crashing down, but at least they're both equally reponsible for the momentum.

And Mako is grinning all the while, kind of thrilled to have such a creative sparring partner, even one who makes up nonsense moves. ]

"Yeah, it looks that way. At least the locals are nicer here than they were in Deerington."

Willow hadn't made it home. She had gone to the lighthouse out in the Edge, and in the end decided that it was too hard to say goodbye to the life she had in Deerington, and the friends she had made. Especially recalling Cynthia's assurances that things would carry on as they should at home, with another her that would just wake up from the dream as though nothing had ever happened. It wasn't exactly a novel idea for her. In high school, she met a version of herself from another Earth that had been turned into a vampire, but it still had been a strange and freeing realization.

Trench has presented her with a brand new set of challenges, though, and a lot of overwhelming changes all at once. Between the loss of her magic, suddenly separating from her human body and becoming a wolf every time she tries to sleep on top of the standard challenges they're all facing. It hasn't been easy.

She says none of this, though. No one outside of her housemates and now Mebh know about her turning into a wolf, and Mebh only knows because the same thing happens to her. Her inability to use her regular magic, she plays even closer to her chest as it makes her feel particularly vulnerable.

Instead she just shrugs and pulls the cloak a little closer around her. "Oh, you know. It's not so bad. What about you?"

September & October Catch-All

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story time!!

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