deercountry | I have done too much driving today to think of a good title here

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I have done too much driving today to think of a good title here

Who: Fakir, Ahiru, and YOU?
What: Falling under the influence of various effects or consequences. Also, a picnic. Open and closed prompts in the comments!
When: September through December (I can explain)
Where: Throughout Trench, but primarily Willful Machine and the Archives

Content Warnings: Temporary blindness in one prompt, more warnings to be added if needed.

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[There are many things you should not do in Trench. Among them, apparently, is throw the gift you received on your Blessed Day out the back window and into the trash. The effect was almost immediate – as soon as Fakir turned away from the window and its view of the feather wreath, his vision began to blur. A few steps down the hallway and it was gone.

This does not make him more inclined to trust his Patron Pthumerian.

Fakir had hoped that maybe it would only last a day. The gift was for the day, so he reasoned there was a chance. But of course that wasn’t the case. After a day of stumbling around to put a warm washcloth over his eyes just in case it would help, he woke up still completely blind.

He may be blind, but his Omen isn’t. Fakir doesn’t often have Marie with him, unsettled by the idea of part of his soul manifesting outside of him (and in the form of a Mandarin duck). Now, though, he doesn’t have much of a choice. Marie proudly takes on the role of seeing-eye Omen, telepathically sharing her sight with her human. After the view from waddling on the floor resulted in dizziness and a few collisions, she settled on Fakir’s shoulder instead. The eye-level view has certainly proved more helpful, though not infallible (as evidenced by further bruises and dropped objects). After a few days of waiting for the effect to wear off, and practicing in case it will last all month (which appears increasingly likely), there’s nothing for it but to try to return to some regular activities. Namely, work in Karl’s Antiques. If he avoids handling the more delicate things, he can probably manage, right?

Aside from that, there’s the regular shopping to be done, and some outdoor practice with a wooden sword just to make sure he doesn’t get entirely out of practice. But he gives up on other activities that would take him outside the small area of Willful Machine around the antique shop. No trips to the archives. No ballet practice.

And no telling anyone why, because he’s fine.]

[As a general rule, Fakir is wary of his Darkblood powers. The ability to reshape reality is one with potentially massive consequences, intended or not, a fact he was deeply familiar with even before he arrived in Trench. He practices with it, but carefully, in strictly limited contexts. Luckily, the fact that he has to write to use it makes it easy to create those limited contexts.

Or it did, until this month.

Like many Darkbloods, Fakir finds his power leaking, finding opportunities in places Fakir would never have thought to bother with. When he's in the Archives, books relevant to what he and anyone nearby are interested in float of the shelves to settle in their hands. New lamps, swords, and clothes suddenly manifest when he's working in the antique shop (he continually ferries these into a storeroom, in case something happens to be wrong with them). Lights conveniently turn themselves on in rooms he's in. Anyone who he sees start to slip on ice in the street will find themselves lifted and set down on firm footing.

It's all, so far, good effects. Which just puts him more and more on edge. Surely the other shoe is going to drop sooner or later, and stomp something or someone in the process.]

[A picnic is not a big deal, right? Right. People eat together all the time. Sometimes outside in nice places. Right.

It just required a little bit of preparation. Obtaining a large enough basket, a nice tablecloth to spread on the ground, food that won’t require utensils and that Ahiru should like… Okay, so he ended up with mostly sandwiches. But there’s also fruit tart for dessert, and lemonade to drink. It’s a bit cold out for lemonade, really, but it’s a picnic drink. Deciding where to go was easy – there aren’t many options for green space in Trench. It wasn't long before he found a small park in Cellar Door with some imported flowers from Ache, set about with graceful statues of dancers and musicians.

Now all that leaves is…going on the picnic. Which leaves him now standing here knocking on the door of Ahiru’s house, basket in one hand and a coat in the other, in case it gets colder.]

[ despite what her friends said, ahiru didn't wear anything special. while she knows fakir would have appreciated it, she also knows he wouldn't really care that much and this was just about them. being themselves. she wanted to explore that, even if she didn't have a name for it.

she opens the door with a smile. ]

Fakir!

[It's honestly a relief that she hasn't worn anything special. Things are new enough already. And, well, he hadn't worn anything special either (unless you count the fact that all of his shirts here are entirely intact).

He can't help but give her a small answering smile. The whole idea suddenly feels less awkward now that he's in her presence.]

Hi.

[ it's true, her heart doesn't seem to stammer. there are no tell-tale blushes on her cheeks and she seems content. steady. ]

I'm ready. Thank you for picking me up.

[They are, simply, as they are. Right now, it doesn't need to be more complicated than that after all. Any blush he might have had when walking up to the door has faded.]

We can take the lamp to Cellar Door.

Did you already pick out a spot?

[He nods.]

It shouldn't be crowded.

[At least from what he's seen so far, people mostly seem to wander in and out rather than staying a while.]

Oh, good.

[ she's really curious now, because she knows that this is hard for fakir, but ahiru is also deeply curious as to the shape of this thing they have will take. ]

[He realizes he hasn't traveled by lamp with someone before. Should he take her hand? It's not like she knows where to go...and it's not like they haven't held hands before, in different situations...

Stop thinking about it. Just do something. He turns to the lamp and, without looking directly at her, reaches for her hand.] Let's go.

[ oh. ]

[ oh ]

[ Ohhhhh

wait, she's taking too long to grab the hand, oh no. ]

[ she lunges for it —

— and immediately misses, falling flat on her face. ]

[He overstepped. She's not responding because he overstepped.]

[Wait. Maybe she's looking at something else? He should turn around and check-]

[-or she could just fall onto the floor right next to him?]

Ahiru?

[What. What just went wrong here.]

Bluh . . . I'm okay . . .

[He leans down to offer a hand in a rather more typical way for them. Amazing how she still manages to fall over anything.]

You don't have to run at the lamp.

[ she takes it, standing up. ]

I wasn't running to the lamp.

What were you doing?

[He hasn't let go of her hand.]

It's nothing.

Time to go?

[Is this somehow his fault? He feels like it's somehow his fault.

...Anyway.]

Yeah.

[He steps towards the lamp, still holding her hand.]

[ it's strange how normal this feels. but it also still feels . . . good. ]

[It's when they step out into Cellar Door that he is struck again with uncertainty. Holding hands while using the lamp was practical, but now what?

She's not objecting, though. Maybe it's...fine?

He nods toward their left, his hands still being too occupied to point.]

This way.

[ she smiles faintly. ]

Is it far?

[He shakes his head.]

Just a few streets over.

[Which somehow manages to be much less busy. Even in the middle of the day, it's crowded here around The Red.]

Did it take you long to find this place?

[He shakes his head.]

Just had to ask around about gardens.

[Even with Sleepers' efforts, there aren't too many of note.

He pauses to pull Ahiru out of the way of a man who's clearly had too much to drink, in spite of the time of day.]

[ oh. she blushes lightly. ]

Uhm, but it feels like you put in a lot of work.

[ for . . . for her. ]

[If Fakir were a smooth romantic type, he would say something like "any amount of work would be worth it for you." And he did put effort into coordinating all of this.

Unfortunately, he's Fakir.]

Not really.

[ geh. that is such a fakir response, she almost deadeyes him so hard — ]

[ — but she does like that about him. ]

Yeah . . .

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I have done too much driving today to think of a good title here

[OPEN] September: don't look a gift wreath in the feathers (cw: blindness)

[OPEN] November: A little help from my...reality-warping powers

[CLOSED] Sunday in the park with Ahiru

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