My blind optimism to blame

[reddosmod]

APRIL 2022 EVENT

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: A large green butterfly.]
[Image Two: A woman staring in a daze at light orbs floating around her face.]

Prompt Two
[Image One: A volcano with meteors falling down around it.]
[Image Two: A ball of quivering light hovering in the dark with woman standing in front.]

Prompt Three
[Image One: A woman staring at a mirror-like humanoid being staring back at her.]
[Image Two: A woman in a field of grass with humanoid-shaped flower sculptures nearby.]

[NAVIGATION]

Prompt 1 • Prompt 2 • Prompt 3 • Plotting • Newsletter

[JUMP TO COMMENTS]

MIGRATION OF MOONLIT BUTTERFLIES

WHEN: April
WHERE: Everywhere outside
CONTENT WARNINGS: Hopelessness/corruption, heavy themes of mental trauma/health, killing of gentle creatures.

---

Excerpt from BEASTS OF DEER COUNTRY Chapter 12: Migrations:

"One of the most beautiful natural phenomena of Deer Country is the migration of the mysterious Moonlit Butterflies. These giant creatures are most often the size of a house, with exceptional wingspans. Fear not: they are not violent creatures. Most will fly well above the city of Trench, leaving trails of glittering orbs of light that fall all throughout the city. However, it is common for some Moonlit Butterflies to land and rest throughout Trench. Despite their massive size, these creatures appear to weigh very little, able to rest harmlessly on homes, lampposts, and the like. Don't be surprised to find some scattered throughout your neighborhood.

They have a gentle aura about them and are most famous for their behemoth wings which glow a radiant green. They are aptly named due to their ability to store immense power from the moon during April and are seen as distant children of Argonaut. Being near them will enchant the air with the scent of amber and fresh linen, and you may hear a soothing song emit from these beasts.

Despite their rare and incredible beauty, it is wise to not linger in their presence no matter how captivating they are...And they are captivating. Many residents of Trench have been known to stop and stare, enthralled by the wings or the orbs of light that are shed by the butterflies. Those who have been staring for too long will have an unnatural glowing green glaze over their eyes, obscuring their pupil and gaze. This is known as the Moonlit Drain.

These butterflies do not gather all of their energy from moonlight...but they gather it from hopeful beings as well. It is why they gather among populations of sentient beings. They soak up all hope in the area and the longer you stand in their presence, the more hopeless you may become. Standing in the presence of a Moonlit Butterfly has driven people to rapid, severe corruption in under ten minutes. It is best to avoid these butterflies no matter how mesmerizing they may be to look at.

The little orbs of light are actual manifestation of everyone's hope. Touching them may restore hope and they can be gathered into jars for future treatments of corruption. They do not "go bad" as they are the essence of emotion. One way to restore hope to a corrupt or beast-ridden soul is to slay one of the Moonlit Butterflies. They are incredibly easy to kill as they are naturally delicate and non-hostile.

Be warned: the one who slays a Moonlit Butterfly will be consumed with instantaneous corruption and possibly even beasthood. But once the butterfly has been slain, anyone in the surrounding area besides the killer will have corruption alleviated. Killing a Moonlit Butterfly has been known to fill people with incredible grief and guilt. Few have survived."

WONDERKIND

WHEN: April
WHERE: Everywhere outside
CONTENT WARNINGS: Possible spoilers per canon, time/vortex style presence, variety of possible monsters.

---

Excerpt from an essay titled "The Wonderkind Pthumerian" from the book The Curious Nature of the Weakest Pthumerian: Argonaut and Misconceptions:

"Most of the other Patron Pthumerians are known for exceptional strength and durability during trying times. It is only Argonaut in which people think of weakness. They believe the Patron to be a fickle, tiny thing with little worth, but there is a unique and powerful quality to Argonaut that should not be overlooked.

This is the phenomenon known as Wonderkind. It has only been known to happen once every few years and only ever during April, but those who have seen it would testify to the hidden strengths of our explorer Patron. There is much to be said about curiosity and resilience, after all. Argonaut has wandered through the lives of many without most ever realizing it. He has likely seen into your own life, curious about the odd Sleepers that show up on the shores of this world.

Wonderkind appears as a meteor shower, but these are no meteors. Balls of flaming light will fall from the sky, silent, beautiful, striking, and somewhat ominous and terrifying. They rain upon Trench in intervals throughout April. They do not crash into the city so much as glide throughout. These balls of light are shimmering orbs that have split open time and space itself into unraveling cocoons, exposing portals into worlds foreign to this one.

These portals cannot be entered for they are not portals out of this world...But portals into this world. Sleepers have claimed to find beloved items and pull them out of these portals. Some may find old pets that come out to greet them. It can be a lucky and cherished event for many. Tragically, these portals do not seem to be able to bring in sentient beings applicable characters, but you may be able to talk briefly to a loved one who isn't yet in this world.

But that's not all that can crawl through these portals...Monsters from other worlds have been known to flock to these portals and make their way through. Monsters from your worlds or other worlds slip in to wreak havoc on the streets of Trench. It is during this time that it is of the utmost importance that our Hunters take up arms and protect the vulnerable. If you recognize the monsters or disasters from your world entering ours, then please, make sure to caution those against it.

The portals close after a few hours and cannot be manually closed by anyone. Nothing can be sent into portals, but one can stand by a portal and guard it for potential dangers. Portals from your world may reappear several times throughout the month, so don't let your guard down for even a moment, and always expect the worst even when hoping for the best."

Quick Facts:

1. Respect the setting. Do not bring in monsters that would be capable of destroying the world/city/etc.

2. Things like unique plants/items can be gained through these portals.

3. You do not need to engage with portals from your own canon. You can invent new worlds, engage with other canons, or alternate universes. It's up to you.

FROM WITHIN AND WITHOUT

WHEN: April
WHERE: Everywhere
CONTENT WARNINGS: Instant beasthood, corruption of soul, draining of soul, replication of soul, mistreatment of sex workers/night walkers.

---

An excerpt from a journal kept by a Night Walker named Charlotte Finch. Finch was known for being one of the first established Night Walkers and was known for her advocacy on the front of Night Walker work and its relationship to beasthood. This journal is kept in the Archives. It contains content pertinent to Beasthood yet, unfortunately, due to ongoing biases against Night Walkers, this journal is kept in the autobiography section rather than the section for beasthood. Good luck finding it.

"the job of the Night Walker is, of course, undervalued by this world. we do our best to soothe the troubled souls of this place and yet they continue to doubt our worth. what must we do to convince them? must we wield blades to show them how we fight? must we shed blood to prove our dedication? must we pick up books to show our intelligence? nei, we not do that. we sleep beside our worn hunters and rest heads upon the chests of scholars and hold the tired hands of architects. we guide the way to light in a way disciples could never.

all us are valuable, it be true, but why must the night walker be left to the wayside? why must our duties be written off? why must it be that it always a night walkers blood in the streets that leaves no tears to be shed? nei, nei, it is hatred of those who understand the soul and body have a close connection.

you know what i believe? these souls of ours change the landscape of our bodies. you cannot have one without the other. when the soul is corrupt, it only be natural that the body corrupts, turning rigid and hideous and monsterous and beastly. aye yes i have seen it myself, though none of the others believe except for other night walkers.

you see, there is a shape that comes to us in the Long Night of april, a shape much like our own. looking like a person ought to look but with no face and no features, like a mirror glimmering in the shape of you. they look like us, and they will mimic us. these odd mirror beings is the shape of our soul, you see, and once it finds you, it will copy you, and you will be driven mad! mad! how does this thing move as you move? how does it replicate what you replicate?

aye, it is your soul, my friend. your soul in a shape you can see. or something like it, may not soul be in your lexicon. it is you, as you are it. it is the Tether between you and beasthood, see what i say. the Tether will begin to soak into you if you let it, if you let it consume you, and it will consume you rapidly. people have been known to be ravaged by the Tether and turn into beasts within seconds, AYE yes, seconds, not minutes, into a vicious beast. the Tether wins.

But you need not let it be a victor, my friend. you see, we proved it, we did, us night walkers, we proved to lay with the Tether is to soothe the Tether. Allow yourself the kindness of another soul, another companion. touch and feel and express companionship. holding the hand of your lover or your friend or your brother or sister will cause the Tethers to weaken before ye very eyes! i do swear it, my friend, i should not lie on a subject i hold so dear.

you see, when we hold one another dear, when we cherish one anothr truly and wholly, we abate the darkness in our souls. listen to your companions, my sweet friends, and let your souls heal, and you can stop the Tether from consuming. you see, you see. surely you see. this is what it looks like. the Tether is always with us, but only in April under this moon can we see it always and will it be vicious and invasive. do not allow it.

do not allow it."

Quick Facts:

1. Tethers will take the exact body shape/size of you and mimic your moves. They may follow you around for several hours/days. Once they decide to "consume" you, it will be quick. It will essentially look like your body is turning metallic and then you become a beast.

While Charlotte states it happens in a matter of seconds, this can happen in several hours/days as well. Depends on the character and their general resolve.

2. People can be pulled back from this through emotional support whether verbally or physically and general acts of kindness. It's the sincerity that matters here. You do not need to be familiar with the person to help them.

3. Everyone can see each other's Tethers so you can determine how severe someone's Tether has become. The more severe the Tether, the more silvery the impacted person will look.

4. Tethers cannot be destroyed with weaponry/attacks. Trying will only hurt the person they are mimicking. You could actually kill someone by trying to "kill" their Tether. The tether will vanish with those who died but reappear once they have reincarnated.

CODING

Comments

[megatheorem]

[Oh, he hadn't noticed, that's a good sign in the precise way that the sun going out has been a good sign for this town. Palamedes hums, eyebrows raised - yes, sir, you are! - and looks only a fraction more surprised that there's apparently a cat here, too. Where did he get a cat?

Did he arrive with a cat? Why bring a cat to this miserable beach, except, he supposes, for the obvious reasons one would bring a beloved pet to join them in sulking.]

Well, you're going chrome, I cannot stress that enough.

[Think of the cat? Does this kitty deserve... whatever happens when a person goes fully metallic? Palamedes hasn't seen it; he doesn't intend to.

He sighs and crouches down there on the sand, rummaging in his satchel for two things: the omni, and what appears to be a simplistic thermos, which he sets in the sand for now. As for the omni, hm, let's see-]

It's late afternoon. I don't know how long you have before you're completely taken over by metal, but I give you an hour before it's too cold for comfort. Or something finds you out here besides me; either way.

[slightlytaller]

[If anything, Waver's frown deepened at Palamedes' insistence. He felt fine-- as fine as he could be while under the effects of a spell the was causing him to act like the impetuous teen he has been a decade ago while at the same time cut adrift in a world without any of his interpersonal connections. Tired and frustrated, the loneliness of his circumstances felt almost like the rime of the sea had bitten into his heart...]

I guess it is a problem, [he conceded.] the person I'm waiting for would be disappointed.

[He didn't elaborate on who this person was, but the pained look of longing that crossed his face made his sentiments plain. This person, whomever they were, was more than just someone special. Waver slowly and uncomfortably stood, swaying like a little weed being pulled in and out by the tide.]

My timing's been thrown off by the lack of sun, [he grumbled darkly. ] Though it's not like I've ever kept good sleep habits anyway.

[Moving to take a step and stretch his legs, Waver felt a tug preventing him from going further forward. He stopped and turned to investigate... Finally spotting the thin thread that glimmered in the moonlight. ]

...hm. That might be a problem.

[megatheorem]

[Palamedes doesn't make a move to stop him from standing - he'll figure it out himself, surely. He simply watches and waits, a pang of sympathy running through him at the idea of disappointing whoever isn't out there. He wonders about it too, would Camilla be disappointed in how he's fumbled so many things, in her absence?

He says,] A routine helps with the dark; sleep optional.

[And then he reaches for the thermos, unscrewing the lid and waiting patiently for the realization about the tether to sink in. Just a moment...

Ah, there it is.]

Sit back down — d'you like soup? It's heated up from a can, but it's something.

[Get back down here, the beach sulk is where it's at. He pours some soup into the thermos' cup-lid and holds it out.]

So, here: drink. Talk about it.

[slightlytaller]

Soup's fine,

[He muttered, looking away in embarrassment before taking the thermos and flopping indignantly back onto the sand. The cat took this opportunity to pop wholly out of the cloak, standing primly on his shoulders and casting it's gaze into Palamedes. With it's long tail held high in the air and the subtle purring heard underneath the waves, one thing was clear:

Gray was thanking Palamedes.]

... She likes you, [He commented.] Her namesake would too, if Gray ever comes ashore.

[A sigh huffed out of him. Pets were anathema to everything that mage society entailed. So was discussing private matters.

But, he didn't need to worry about the Mage's Association forcibly silencing him in Trench. ]

What is there to talk about? There's several people I need to intercept if they arrive, and new arrivals only show up during the full moon.

Whose to say that the darkness is the only anomaly right now?

[megatheorem]

[Oh, can he pet this cat, if she likes him does he get to pet this cat - he holds a hand out to her for her to consider, just in case.]

That's not what I meant, [he says, gently; he already knows some people here have a hair trigger temper, and he's not trying to provoke any more negativity than is already here. The tether is back there, after all - he's not going to take chances.]

I know what you're doing out here; why do you think I came all this way?

[Maybe without a tether of his own, but he is here. With soup, which was for him, so - he had planned to stand around here for a little while, at least.]

You're corrupting, you know. I don't have to tell you this plan is going poorly for you. [softly still, but mmph- yeah.] But I can't do anything else for you like this.

[Just feed him soup, and feeding someone soup does not stave off that much corruption, ultimately.]

[slightlytaller]

[Gray gently booped Palamede's hand with her soft nose and sniffed, whiskers brushing against his fingers with a feather-like lightness before pushing the top of her head against his palm. Even if Waver was slipping into a depression, at least his Omen was there to communicate what he was himself having a hard time managing.

Palamedes was a friend, and he wanted to trust this stranger.]

I know that.

[He snapped testily, his voice sharp like a moody teenager, and immediately he bit his lip to silence himself from uttering more harsh words. This state he was in was embarrassing-- and he felt his teeth, sharper than normal, press more harshly into his flesh with the silly little gesture.

Perhaps he was one of the vampires he had been concerned about...

Huffing, Waver finally looked up at Palamedes. For once he was without his glasses, and the green-gray hue of his irises that nearly matched the ocean was plain even in the moonlight. He pouted momentarily before tearing his gaze away.]

Gray will come when she comes. I do worry for her, but she's more capable than I-- in every sense of the word. She's my Queen on a chess board. I trust her to find me no matter how I am and know what to do.

...That said. Even though she is important, she's not the person I'm looking form.

[He felt his chest tighten with grief, and the hot sting of tears prick at his eyes. Groaning low under his breath, he rubbed his eyes before continuing.]

It's dumb. I just don't think I can bear being in a reality where that man never fought, nor lived a life so great he's still remembered millennia after he was entombed.

[megatheorem]

[Pros: Palamedes gets to pet the cat. He does, giving her an earnest little neck scritch, but he's not not listening. He's listening precisely the right amount, which is why he can still raise an eyebrow over being snapped at - that temper is something else, maybe think about that sometime - and, hmm.

Well, he understands on a cosmic, fundamental level the sentiment behind she's my Queen on a chess board. The bone-deep, atomic level of trust in loyalty and competence packed into those two sentences alone hits him dead in the chest and tugs; towards compassion, towards even the fucking ocean, which he is still furious at for other matters.

He's not sure congratulations on being the first person from outside the Empire he's met who understands, at the basic level, what it means to have a cavalier will... help? It probably won't; off topic at best, but it shifts something at the back of his mind into a grief he knows the shape of. Even if only one of them named their omen after his missing Queen, hmm, nerd.]

I believe you, [is what he says about Gray; he thinks he's gotten a pretty clear picture of that particular dynamic. So, then, this other piece.]

You don't have a choice. [okay, OKAY-] None of us do; we're already here. So we weren't consulted— frankly, that ship has sailed. But the feeling is still there.

[And god, is he crying? Palamedes drops his hand from Gray-cat to between his shoulder blades, lightly, just in case that small amount is unwelcome. Mm.]

You have to keep it; that's a non-starter. But you do get to choose what to do with it.

[slightlytaller]

[He does stiffen momentarily at the light touch-- and Waver did look up, surprised, at the sheer sincerity of the words he was hearing. Describing matters in the form of a chess board had helped him explain his relationship with Gray, but there was no clear parallel to illustrate how the two week hurricane named Iskandar had entirely changed the course of his entire life.]

...He told me to live, and he would want me to see this world in his stead.

[Waver explained, sniffling softly while Gray the cat batted at the silvery streaks in his hair.]

He also told me to grow another thirty centimeters if I wanted some respect-- and I did! Not that anyone will believe me like this.

[megatheorem]

[Palamedes shrugs lightly when Waver (well, Mackenzie, as far as he knows) looks at him like that; he knows his strict adherence to sincerity can come as a shock to, hm, evidently a lot of people here - but that's just the instinct he has, and here they are.

And here, also, is the odd sense of something he picks up quite involuntarily when his hand touches Waver's back; a jumble, like the whole of him has been subjected to an essence he, Palamedes, has no way of understanding. There's an odd feeling, like running a hand over the static on an old screen, the ghost of a ghost of an unknown. His brow creases, but that could just be the sympathy.]

That— Well, you'd be surprised. A necromancer probably could. [not Palamedes, who is already gangly, but a little one? if they wanted.]

Respectfully, letting yourself chrome over isn't much of a life.

[slightlytaller]

[Just as having pets was anathema in mage society, so was the simple concept of sincerity. Waver was the worst kind of magus in many ways-- and one of them was a willingness show some vulnerability with those he trusted. Swallowing the hard lump that had formed in his throat, he quietly nodded

Going chrome was a bad look for anyone, especially someone like him.

Unaware that a part of his situation had been perceived, he gingerly opened the thermos and sipped at his soup. It was a simple canned broth and vegetable number, but it did wonders to warm his insides. Taking a breath, he willed himself to calm down.]

I miss him, okay? The person I'm waiting for. He's... An immense man in every sense, a man who laughs louder and fights more fiercely than the people he surrounds himself with. Truly, he's someone who can be called 'Larger than life.'

[megatheorem]

[Now, hold on, control that temper. Palamedes' hand drifts up to squeeze his shoulder, a tempering motion now that he hasn't been bodily shoved away. Don't get defensive, says the shoulder squeeze. No one is actually judging, it emphasizes.

He ignores the fuzzy static feeling, which is easier to do now that it's pricked at his awareness; that's none of his business.]

Did I tell you about Camilla? My cavalier— don't ask me about that, just listen. I miss her every waking moment as if somebody pulled me in half and kept the other piece. It's been a few months, and it doesn't just stop. [A beat.] But I have things to do.

[Which is the crux of the matter, in his opinion; life, unfortunately, moves on. Without Camilla, or Waver's larger than life man, or Gray— and for a time, without Palamedes.]

Here's what I think: ultimately, there's only one direction, and it's measured in time— whether you stand still or not. I prefer to move. It sounds like this person of yours thinks the same.

[slightlytaller]

...Iskandar.

[Waver said after a moment, breathing and willing himself to calm as he listened to Palamedes' very rational and simple explanation. It was true, he was letting his emotions get away from him, and he didn't feel right just forgetting about the past.

Not when the second part of his single command, left unspoken in this discussion, ordered: 'see all of this to the end, and tell everyone.']

His name is Iskandar, and you're right. He wanted me to live out his dream-- and, if he had been given even a few more years to his life, he could have done so, so much.

[At this point the hot tears finally spilled forth in a flood, and there was no stopping them. Between sniffles, he choked out the words as he continued his explanation.]

--Ten years ago, I thought he was my Queen. Instead, he asked me to serve as his retainer and showed me that the King of Conquerors is so much more than anything on a chess board. And, though I want nothing more than to see him again, I know it's impossible.

[His voice hitched here, squeaking and cracking to an embarrassing degree for a thirty year old.]

Even recreating the same situation would destroy all of his memory from that time-- and, I don't think I'm ready to join his army yet.

...I know I need to keep moving forward. That's what I've been doing. I-I even destroyed his tomb to keep the artifacts inside from falling into the wrong hands!

[megatheorem]

[Ah, and there are the actual tears, huh — Palamedes' purses his lips and staunchly doesn't interrupt, but wraps his arm around Waver's shoulders proper now that he's earnestly crying. Good god, what kind of asshole would he be to just sit there - anyway.

So, the points he's putting together here are... unrelated, actually, because he's guessing there's something to the fuzzy static feeling he gets from Waver and the fact that he cites "ten years ago," and the other points are mostly about Waver being desperately in love with this Iskandar person.

Like, maybe. He's getting that vibe. That there's a tomb involved doesn't seem odd to him at all; necromancer things.]

I'm not sure how much of that is metaphor, [if at all? Death metaphor? Something in there is death-adjacent, it feels like.] Still; nobody gets to go back for a second shot.

Even worse: there's never enough time to spend with the right people. We have to make it count some other way.

[As a rule, he won't offer platitudes - this is simply true, and the options are to waste away in wallowing or get it out of the system and get back to doing what needs to be done, so: go ahead and cry, sure. No judgment zone. He reaches across with his other hand - bandaged, but over something stupid, so never mind it - to steady the thermos just in case. To move forward from this particular cry, the first task is:]

Don't spill my soup.

[slightlytaller]

Nothing was a metaphor.

[The reply was in the bitter tones of someone who was deeply depressed-- but, at the prodding, Waver at least drank more of the soup. Palamedes' offered hug was more of a comfort than he anticipated, and the cast of chrome slowly started to abate with the words.

It was a reminder of something he already knew-- but it was a good reminder no less.]

...I know what I look like-- and that's the result of something I haven't found the key to breaking yet. I was relying on Gray and my students as a support outside the spell, but that plan is not going to work here.

[He sucked in a deep breath, knowing what was coming next. ]

This is how I looked before I left school to break my way into the ranks of an overseas ritual, where mages and spell casters from around the world summon ancient heroes to fight for an impossible treasure. I stole an artifact and had no idea who I would summon.

I thought it would be ... I don't know what I thought. But, I ended up calling out a man who conquered over half the known world two thousand years before my time.

[megatheorem]

[Oh, then actual death, got it. Not metaphorical. Half of this explains - he figures - that odd static, and his immediate want is to pick at it like he might any other kind of necromantic ward, but—

A) it is not a necromantic ward, and more importantly,

B) it is on a person, so that would be rude to do, at best. He resolves not to pick at the whatever-it-is.

The other half of this sounds almost like a bunch of necromancers summoning their cavaliers from the ether - the River, maybe - to gather up in a place and fight each other about it, which Palamedes knows isn't it, and certainly isn't a one-to-one parallel of Canaan House, but huh! He doesn't care for it! However:]

I believe you. What happened after that?

[This whole thing doesn't need his commentary, so it's just this gentle nudge for Waver to let it all out.]

[slightlytaller]

[That was a first-- but the flood gates were opened, and Waver didn't have it in him to bite out any sass. Instead, he bitterly grumbled:]

I was such a little shit to him, even right to the end. We didn't win, and I've never been that strong of a mage. I didn't even have the power to sustain his physical presence and support his ability to fight. At one point it nearly cost him everything just to make sure I lived. I still don't know how, but somehow we managed to hold out...

[He was babbling to an embarrassing degree, but his own teenage impulses were still at the forefront thanks to an old classmate's ploy combined with the skill of one of the most powerful mages of his generation that he had ever met.

[megatheorem]

[Palamedes lacks context here, and he's doing his best not to dip into too much conjecture - it sounds like somehow this quest of theirs demands the mage be both mage and cavalier, but that doesn't - hm. Make sense? Sound... good?

It is, broadly, beside the point: no one is asking him to understand the mechanics of what's happened in this story, only to listen to the emotional beats. He gives Waver's shoulder a pat, waiting a moment before gently prompting:]

It's no wonder you were close. [Perhaps odd, to hear Waver talk about all these things he thinks he did wrong and come up with that, but Palamedes understands the nature of getting closer under extreme stress - that just makes sense to him.] And then?

[The ending to this story is pretty obvious, but. Go on.]

[slightlytaller]

[Waver looked up at him at this point, his breathing still ragged from the tears but his eyes appearing a little less chrome than they did moments before.]

He took one final charge against a foe he couldn't beat-- but, before he did, offered me a place in his army.

[He sucked in a breath, thinking of those last moments on the bridge-- and, at that moment, it felt almost as fresh as it did in the days immediately following. The dull unreality of his life and his world had settled in the chaos that had vanished with the man he knew as Iskandar, and Waver had no longer recognized it.

He had barely recognized himself.]

--I took it, knowing that it's impossible. There's no way a student of the arcane arts would ever have survived the perilous desert battles thousands of years ago. But, I couldn't imagine my life any other way.

...and, I guess a part of me still can't imagine it.

[megatheorem]

[Okay, Palamedes thinks, surely that part is a metaphor? He doesn't dwell on it; a man from history was summoned and then somehow Waver both accepted a place beside him and never saw him again - that's enough context to grasp the tears.

He looks better, which is something. Palamedes squeezes his shoulder, reassuring. This might be the time to offer platitudes or some sympathetic one-liners, but he's absolutely never found those helpful, so instead:]

It's fair to let it all out; no one could begrudge you that much. Do you have another plan for what comes next? I don't know anything about your magic, but I'm not half bad as a sounding board.

[throw incomprehensible notes at him. he can take it.]

[slightlytaller]

[That was the striking thing about his problem. As insane as it sounds, none of it was metaphor. But, as much as the pages of history could tell the stories better than he could, Waver still wasn't ready to give up.

Not yet. Not when the possibility of meeting Iskandar by Okeanos still existed, even as a pipe dream.

Sucking in a quavering breath, Waver felt the lids of his eyes grow heavy from the length of his vigil and his own built up tears.]

...I don't know, [he confessed, quietly.] Repeating that ritual is too costly. The town where the right leylines intersected was nearly destroyed last time-- and he won't even remember me if I summon him again.

[The possibilities that he knew of were too painful, and the cost itself was too high.]

Waiting by these shores is my best chance of seeing him again. The Iskandar I knew-- not someone else, and not some nameless Faker either.

[megatheorem]

Ah.

[Well, that's not great; not even a project to work towards, if leylines and a lapse in memory are already insurmountable problems. Palamedes considers, frowning out at the water for a long moment. He really has nothing to offer but generic pep talks, which feels empty...]

I'd say reverse engineer your ritual somehow, but not if it's going to impact the memory. It looks like your only option is to wait and see.

[Disappointing! Wow! He shrugs, lightly.]

But not right here, all the time. Scrounge up some personal projects in the meantime, you'll feel better.

[slightlytaller]

[Projects always were the key.

Whether it was reorganizing a multigenerational archive that wasn't his own, uncovering a den of fell magic with the use of simple alchemical reagents, or writing theses that would be shredded on the public stage, Waver Velvet was a person who always had a project. Blinking, he visibly perked up at that information.]

...I am evidently a Vileblood, [He commented lightly.] Word is that it is a bloodtype notorious for being involved in complex magical workings.

[Gray stirred on his shoulders, her long sinuous body perking up and tail lifting at the sight of... whatever had tugged at the thread from underneath the docks.

Waver wanted to bite something. Instead, he stood-- and subtly reached for something he had hidden under his cloak.]

You might be right that this is a bad time to mope, [He muttered to Palamedes. Then, louder:] Damn. This is really a bad time.

[megatheorem]

[Oh good, a project that involves blood, well, that's par for the course around here. Palamedes simply waits and listens, pursing his lips to resist lecturing about blood pollution right this second. Surely, Waver knows this... it's fine.

And there he goes? Palamedes leans forward to catch the soup thermos before it falls, looking up from the ground at him with raised eyebrows.]

What? Are you set to explode without a special key word said every hour?

[Ha ha anyway why is this a bad time, what's going on over there.]

[slightlytaller]

[Observe: the sassy teenage eyeroll that ill befitted the 30 year old he spoke like but well suited the nineteen year old he looked like. Waver Velvet cast him a belligerent look before tearing his eyes away.]

If only.

[Folding his arms with a huff he looked out towards the sea-- just as the figure on the other end of the tether emerged.

Oh note was the fact that this figure was noticeably different from the small, weedy person that Palamedes knew. Although there was nearly a foot in height difference and a noticeable degree of more polish, the dark eyes and underlying demeanor of frustrated sadness made the similarities obvious.

Waver pouted and glowered at the man.]

... I wasn't exactly ready for you to know this yet, Palamedes.

[He mumbled, withdrawing a plain pocket knife from the folds of his cloak. With the blade flashing in the moonlight, he made a simple move--

Not before the stranger promptly flicked him in the forehead. Hard.

-- and, just as suddenly, the figure faded into dust along the shoreline, with only a lock of Waver's hair that he had cut off remaining where the other man had stood.

... Though no words were spoken, the sentiments were clear:

Waver had just been called an idiot by his other self, and only had the wounds on his pride to prove it.]

[megatheorem]

[Sitting on the ground, still, Palamedes watches this play out with morbid fascination. The tether's existence is more discomforting than its older appearance, and he wonders just what the idea behind whipping out a blade is to challenge, ah... Oneself?

Silvery tether shadow self? Either way.

Not that it matters, because the big one flicks the little one in the head and vanishes in a puff of judgment, and Palamedes can only stare at the spot the tether occupied with a furrowed brow. Hmm. He stares at the spot for a long moment, then glances over at the remaining, tinier version. He clears his throat, hesitantly.]

... Because it's embarrassing?

[To get owned so hard by one's own other self, that is. Ahem.]