deercountry | Was I really seeking good [Open]

Was I really seeking good [Open]

Who: Varian and you!
What: November catchall!
When: Throughout November.
Where: All around the place!

Content Warnings: Child poisoning in the comments, bloodletting in the first half of the Sleeper Farm prompt

BUILDING AN ABOMINATION TO THE GODS - Driveway of Disaster House, Cassandra- OTA

Varian can't actually remember the last time he built something purely for himself. Both back home, in Deerington and here in Trench, his inventions have always had a greater purpose. Sure, he enjoyed making them, but they were always ultimately to help other people. Building something just for his own enjoyment generally wasn't on his radar. It's only recently that he's felt like he's earned the right to indulge in something for himself.

And so, at the start of the month, Varian can be found on the driveway of the Disaster House- starting to put together the very early beginnings of a frame for a car. He isn't bothered by the lightly falling snow- he doesn't feel the cold anymore and the crisp air is honestly good for clearing his head. He's wearing his serial-killer-esque welding mask and has his little foot-pump-powered 1800s welding kit with him, but that isn't doing so well in the cold weather. After a few frustrating attempts at getting the damn thing to work, he gives up, stepping back to stare at the metal he's trying to get into shape. He looks at his hand, a soft hmmmmmm sound echoing in the mask. He's not comfortable with this, but Mako has been helping him get a more...positive outlook on his abilities.

So, for the first time since he got here, he decides to actually use his abilities for something instead of actively avoiding and being reviled by them. He flexes his fingers, using the techniques Mako has run over with him many a time, willing flame to sprout on them. He has to concentrate a lot, and it's definitely not a tiny, careful flame like the one on his torch (he's not quite THERE yet) but it's enough to start welding the pieces of metal together. Once he's done that he snuffs the flame by closing his fist. He steps back, pushing the mask up so it rests above his goggles (why doesn't he just take the goggles off, why does he have to wear both?) to assess his work, before realising someone is standing nearby, turning to offer a little smile.

"Do you think it looks okay? It's kinda shoddy but I guess I can always go over it later once the snow stops."

IT'S FULL OF OPENINGS, IT'S JUST YOU AIN'T SEEING THEM - All around the city - OTA

For once, fate has smiled down at Varian. His Patron is The Tower and while the buildings are shifting and doorways keep vanishing and reappearing he's still able to find his way around. It's given him confidence that means he might just be ignoring the always buddy up system, because it's fine. It's totally fine. He knows where he's going. So he goes about his daily business as normal - unfettered by the chaos that the vast majority of the population are dealing with. He's a compassionate soul, though, and if he sees someone looking lost, he moves over to them, raising an awkward hand in greeting.

"Uh... hey. You look...lost? Do you want me to help you out? I understand where I'm going for...for some reason. If you stick with me, we can get to where you need to go."

SECRET, SECRET, SECRET SECRET BUNKER - Willful Machine - 28th November OTA with CR prompt

Finding the compass on his workbench had been a happy little surprise. He didn't really need one, but it's pretty nice and after quizzing the people in his house (none of whom took responsibility for the little gift) he probably should have been worried about the device that just appeared in his lab in the dead of night. He isn't, though, because it's cool.

Naturally, he uses it as a normal compass first- but as he's working on his car, he does need to try it on bigger things. He's headed to Willful Machine for more parts, and it using it on a sheet of metal on the ground to measure out exactly what he needs. It's while he's doing this that the circle opens up under him, upending him into a little room. One moment he's there, the next he isn't. Maybe you were there to watch him fall in like an idiot. He looks around at the space- full of everything a person would need to hunker down for a night and makes a soft confused noise before yelling because that seems the best course of action here.

"Um- HI??? Is anyone there?"

And if that doesn't work, he'll get out his Omni and send a message to his friends:

Fell in a hole. I think into a pocket dimension? Help.

MUSHABOOMING

On hearing there were cool new mushrooms to deal with here, naturally, Varian's gone about trying to harvest some. He can make all kinds of cool alchemy with them!! This being Varian, of course, means he's neglected some pretty basic health and safety in his mushroom harvesting. So people can catch him in various pickles throughout the town as he goes about stupidly collecting stuff for his lab.

They may find him hallucinating on Walking Terrors, covered in spores and running around with a panicked expression and screaming about the floor melting. Or maybe you'll find him face-down in the dirt, a Floater sitting happily on top of him. Just...help the idiot out, he'd appreciate it.

THE SLEEPER FARM

Varian starts his No Good Real Bad Time swinging upside down- his blood dripping down into a bowl underneath him. It freezes before it hits the bowl, of course, leaving a blue, frozen blood slushie at the bottom. He's still confused how he got here, but he knows that's not the pressing concern here- not while there are other bodies strung up who have definitely had body parts removed. Varian does a quick, muggy-headed check that nothing seems to be out of place- no organs missing, two arms, one leg. Everything as it should be. They've even left him with his prosthetic, which is nice. But he'd still rather get down from here before this gets worse.

"Uhhhhhh, hi? Anyone still...conscious here?"

Or perhaps you find him afterwards, once he's down and on his feet again. He's still got a sizeable gash on his arm, but at least it's frozen over - thanks for the natural cauterization, coldblood! He'll be helping get other people down or helping them move as best he can. Much like earlier in the month in the town, he feels a strange pull towards the way out, and he'll be trying to bring whoever's with him along that path.

"C'mon, I...I know the way out."

He's not offering a reason for that, oh no. It's while he's leading someone towards the alter that they're suddenly pulled out by a force Varian recognises almost immediately. It's an old, familiar one after all- and once they're upended onto the lawn where Disaster House's Lamp Friend sits, he looks up at the sky, frowning.

"...Cynthia?"

[[ooc: As always if you want something else or a closed thread, please hit me up on

teeff or PM me! Will add event stuff later!]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She looked around the room, before her eyes settled on a wooden bowl, sitting on the table. "Just to be safe, why not try throwing something out of the hole first? If it vanishes..."

Well, they'd have to think twice before deciding to crawl out themselves.

But she preferred to hope for the best.

Crossing the room at a quick trot, she picked up the bowl and brought it back over to Varian. "Try this?"

Bless Airy for being the common sense factor in this madness. Varian takes the bowl humming softly.

"I guess that's probably wise. Just in case something happens to us when something exits the room."

He hucks the ball up through the hole in the ceiling (not yet occurring to him to make an easier door) watching it sail out. The room doesn't recreate it (yet) but they don't fie horribly either. There's a distant 'hey' as the bowl bounces off someone outside.

"Huh. How about that."

Ariadne laughed with delight. "Incredible!" Although she didn't know how to use magic, she'd learned enough about magical theory in her years at the missionary school to understand that what Varian had accomplished was very advanced. As far as she could tell, he'd turned energy into matter. Created something where there was nothing. And that simple little object--a wooden bowl--was permanent.

At least, permanent enough to hit someone outside.

"Sorry!" she shouted up to the hole, cupping her hand around her mouth. Then she turned back to Varian, giddy and smiling. "This is a gift!"

Varian would be far less thrilled with gaining more magic into his life. But even he has to admit that this is incredibly useful. To have a bolt-hole to run to when things get bad is pretty invaluable - especially given they don't know how dangerous Trench can be yet. Something about gift horses and mouths...

He does chuckle a little, sorry That Guy.

"You know, you're right, I think it is," he rubs the back of his head. "I wish I knew who from. This is some pretty serious power here. I don't think I know anyone who can do this. "

"We had mysterious benefactors in Deerington," she said, thinking of her beloved trees, her bicycle (which she still had yet to learn to ride), and her bottomless bag. "I suppose we should have expected to encounter a few here."

Not that she had any basis for that assumption. More of a feeling. Not quite as reliable, but not something to be dismissed either.

Instinct had its place.

"I guess you're right. Well, I'm certainly not gonna turn something like this down. Not when I can use it to help people."

Because of course, Varian's first thoughts go to benefitting other people with his magical pocket dimension. Of course, they do.

"Maybe we should keep an eye on the other months? See if people get other presents then? Like..birthdays or something," he frowns. "Though mine's in April so this is...well. I think I finished making my leg this day last year so it might be that? That's the only thing special about this date to me."

"So it's your leg's birthday?" She immediately regretted saying that, but it just sort of slipped out. At least she wasn't staring at said leg. Either leg.

She covered her mouth with both hands.

And her eyes widened with an apologetic sort of panic.

"Sorry," she said, talking into her palms. "That was incredibly rude of me. I shouldn't have said that."

Holy cow, he was not expecting that and it gets a proper laugh out of him. Give him a second, he just needs to compose himself again, waving her concerns off with a hand.

"Oh...no, no don't worry about it. That was great! Sure, we'll call it my leg's birthday. Happy birthday to my leg."

He's going to be chuckling about this all day.

"Man, I wish I'd gotten it a present now. Seen as someone gave it a whole magical room."

It was a great relief to hear him laugh. She felt truly embarrassed, but at least he didn't seem offended. He could have so easily been. It wasn't polite to talk about another person's limbs like that.

Or, at least, she didn't think it was.

The tension eased out of her shoulders and she managed a weak smile. "It's a way of looking at it, anyway," she said, giving him a tiny shrug. "A day that matters to you."

He definitely isn't even remotely offended. Varian will make terrible, terrible leg jokes all on his own. He's going to remember this one to drop on Fern later. For funsies.

"It sure is. If I knew I'd get a cool gift for every lost limb...well, I'd still only lost the leg but I'd sure have told year-ago-me I'd get something neat out of it," it might have eased the transition a little more. "I'm gonna have to look into this, see if anyone else has had gifts on important days to them."

Ariadne wanted to know. She desperately wanted to ask. But she'd already crossed a line today and, offended or not, she wasn't going to cross it again.

"Well, that's what we have the network for, I suppose," she said instead. "That and apparently for people making funny broadcasts while inebriated."

Well, she thought they were funny, anyway.

The Leg is a subject Varian never minds talking about. He's accepted it as a part of his life at this point, her worries are for nought.

"Oh wow, people make those more often than they probably should," they're great. "You'd think a friend would be there to take their Omni or Fluid or whatever from them to stop them making a bad life choice but nope. They just let the chaos happen."

She considered pointing out that people who were inebriated were usually somewhat lacking in friends. They were lonely.

But she was lonely too. She just had...other ways of showing it. Not that she wanted to show it at all. But that corpse that attacked Orpheus hadn't been anything she'd just imagined.

"That's something else I miss from home," she said thoughtfully. "Taverns and drinking songs. There are places like them here. Were in Deerington, too. But somehow, it's not quite the same."

She would not be wrong on that one. Though he's seen some very drunk people surrounded by friends before too.

Naturally, if he knew that, she'd be able to get rid of him even less than she already can. He'd never want her to feel lonely- not her. She deserves so much more than that. She's good people.

"I know what you mean, it's not quite got the same...feeling, I guess? We have one back home called The Snuggly Duckling," YEAH. "It's full of ruffians and thugs but they're honestly the best people you'd ever want to meet. One of my closest friends is the head chef there- the food's incredible."

"The Snuggly Duckling. That is a tavern name!" She twirled around in delight, arms out.

They all needed an adjective or verb, followed by an animal name. The Frolicking Stoat. The Snoring Pig. The Jousting Weasel. Just hearing the name made her feel a little closer to home. For a minute or two.

"Oh, and taverns like that always have the best food!" And she'd dined with kings and queens. "Have I heard about this friend? One of your princess's cohorts?"

"I know, right! It really sets a mood!"

A mood of not what's inside the place, but it really does evoke the soul of the place. And isn't that what's more important? Varian thinks so. And they always WERE like that. Pubs are weird.

"They really do, and Lance is a really good cook," he smiles and nods. "He is. He grew up with her fiancee - he's a really good guy. Obnoxious, a lot of the time, but a really good guy."

"Lance? Like the weapon?" She mimed tilting against a knight on horseback, although she'd never actually done it.

It was a sport that honestly astonished her. And not in the good sort of way.

Who wanted to play war games? They were in the middle of war. And it wasn't a game. Why remind themselves?

She supposed the name might not be real. Ruffians had a tendency to pick names that made them sound intimidating. But if that was the aim, she would have picked something like 'Knife' or 'Mace.'

"Oh, no- I mean, yeah it's spelt like the weapon, but it's just a name. Lance. Lance Strongbow"

If it sounds like a made-up name, it's because it is, but Varian will keep Lance's true identity a secret like a good friend. Besides, it would be way more amusing to drop that kind of information should Lance ever show up here.

The ‘Strongbow’ part of the name did little to convince Ariadne that the man’s name was real. But so it was with some snarly males. Why be subtle when you could go over the top? Two weapons were more fierce than one.

“I know it sounds terrible, but it almost feels like a pity Trench doesn’t play favorites with your homeland. I wouldn’t wish this place on anyone who didn’t want to be here. But…” she shook her head, “I do wish I could meet some of your friends.”

Edited 2021-11-21 19:52 (UTC)

It's such a stupid name, how he managed to exist with that without anyone ever calling him out on it is beyond Varian, honestly. Even more hilariously, Varian is pretty sure Lance Strongbow could, in fact, user neither of the weapons in his name. He can just about use a sword. Badly.

"Well, you're in luck, two of them showed up this month," he pauses because Cass is...complicated. "One of them isn't in a great place right now, but if you see a lady running around barefoot with like a lot, a lot of hair, that's Rapunzel."

Ariadne laughed a little, looking down at her own bare feet, before running a hand along her braid. "I'll be sure to look out," she said. "Although I'm not sure I could ever just walk up to a princess..."

There were just so many rules about that. Even Princess Amanda, who Ariadne saw as a kind of aunt, existed in a plane of rules and strictures. Forgetting the fact that their relationship was secret, Ariadne couldn't imagine just approaching her without any kind of permission.

"What's her proper title? Does she prefer 'Your Grace' or would it be 'Your Highness?'"

"Oh you can definitely walk up to her, she'll just walk up to you otherwise. She's really friendly."

That's a goddamn understatement and he knows it. Rapunzel's desire to partake in royal decorum could fill a thimble, and he's pretty sure she intends to keep it that way. It's...quirky, to be sure, but nice all the same. There's no one quite like Rapunzel. (Except maybe Usagi. Sometimes.)

"Your Highness, but she'll insist on her name," he chuckles. "She spent her life not being aware she was a princess she...uh, she doesn't really go in for fancy titles or...bowing or anything like that."

Ariadne winced. "That's right. I forgot about that. The part where she didn't know she was a princess." She would have to be careful not to ask a few too many questions about that. Tread carefully. Just like when dealing with Princess Amanda's daughter.

The most scowly person in the entire court.

Although she would still curtsy. There was pretty much no way Ariadne would be able to not do that...

"It's okay, it's easy to forget. I mean...it's pretty unusual."

Nothing about Rapunzel was even remotely usual, he accepts this- they all accept this. And that's adorable, Rapunzel would find that amusing, no doubt.

"But hey, she's pretty forgiving...no, that's an understatement, she's ridiculously forgiving. She won't mind a few faux pas, honest."

Really, she sounded a lot like Ariadne. Or the person Ariadne wanted to be, barring the fact that she was in a rebellion that required her to lie, steal, and otherwise live a dishonest life.

Except that she wasn't any more.

Technically, she'd left it behind, receiving a flower in return. There were still mornings when she'd wake up, though. And roll over to find, to her surprise, that Aunt Lysia's scent wasn't in the air. Never had been. And probably never would be.

"I'll seek her out," she said. "And tell her all the wonderful things you've said about her."

Was I really seeking good [Open]

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