logs | {suddenly, you lose your way and lose the thread.

Entry tags:

{suddenly, you lose your way and lose the thread.

WHO: Aspen, various
WHERE: Shadowlands, Stygia, and more
WHEN: December
WHAT: Catch-all log (event + general)
WARNINGS: Refer to Aspen's blanket warnings to be safe. Includes nonsexual descriptions of nudity (nude model thread.)

→ harbor

( in this white-out winter, a slender figure steps through the snow with dogged determination. aspen acts like the wind doesn't really bother him, and in a sense, it doesn't - these winters are not unlike the ones he's witnessed in petir. he's missed them - in a sense that he hasn't seen snow for almost two years. he's been so used to rains that he almost forgot that most places got snow instead of flooding. while most seem to be bundled up and bustling, aspen enjoys the snowflakes dancing in the air and some that stick to his cheeks and lashes. that, however, doesn't mean he doesn't take notice when some people are freezing their tails off.

as he unlocks the side entrance to his still-remodeling shop, he calls - )

If you're cold, you can come in here for a reprieve.

( aspen's expression isn't as cheery as it usually is - even as he rustles and flaps his wings to knock the frost off of his feathers, there's something heavy hanging in the air about him. he pushes his braid out of his coat so it falls over his shoulder like usual, setting down the coat that he'd kept over his clothes. he's traded in pastels for darker blues and blacks, and he heads to the stone counter - opening the side gate so he stands behind the counter and starts taking care of the plants and walls of powders, tonics, and salves he has stashed away. )

What are you doing out here, if I may ask? You're not going to cross the sea, are you? If you get knocked off the ship, who knows if you'll freeze or not at this point - ghk...

( he covers his mouth as he coughs up a few flower petals, his sigh melding with an exhausted wheeze. he shakes his head with disappointment. )

Apologies.

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[Not unlike many others, D is a little bewildered he's become so cold recently and can't seem to keep it at bay. The long cape comes in handy, even if it doesn't seem to be doing such a great job in the warmth department. Weird.

Quietly, he takes the invitation and steps inside the shop, but he remains standing just inside the door as the flakes of snow slide off his shoulders and down his cape to the floor. He doesn't want to get Aspen's shop dirty...? Politely, he removes the black hat from his head as Aspen coughs up some of the petals. He hasn't said anything in response this whole time, and he spends another long moment not replying still.

He just peers watchfully across the way at Aspen.]

Thank you. [For the space out of the elements, first of all, and it's given with the earnesty of someone who is usually not afforded hospitality.] I plan to go to the Shadowlands, yes.

I have something for your cough. If you want it.

Hah, you have some nerve, offering medicine to a medicine maker. I'll look at it.

( oh, but it's delivered with no bite and a playful laugh - rivalry for rivalry's sake, maybe.

after seeing d just sort of linger, aspen huffs and walks over to take one of his hands with both of his and tug. )

I said, come in. I don't care about snow or any messes. It'll wash off just fine. This place gets messy enough with all the plants.

Why do you want to go there, anyhow? Or is this a regular occurrence? I only go there for work.

It may be bad business to take from your own supply.

[Look. That's usually true with drugs and not medicine, but sometimes it might be the same. He doesn't know people's motives.

The hand not holding the hat is taken, the left one which remains bare from the wrist down to the fingers. He's a little perplexed by how the touch lights his skin up with the contact. The warmth is soothing and burns up through his skin toward his elbow beneath the leather sleeve. Hmm.

But he follows Aspen farther inside, stride measured and unhurried. He luckily doesn't leave behind too terrible of a trail of snow and slush.]

I'm meeting someone there.

[At the counter, he gives the hat a small shake toward the floor, and then he carefully rests it at the very corner edge, out of the way. The free hand is what he uses to pull a little tincture of something out from beneath the edge of the cape. He places it on the counter for Aspen. It's warm oil for the throat, the one from Rosuv.]

While true, I'm not open yet, so it doesn't really count. Next month, hopefully.

( he does let go so d can settle as he wishes, plucking the tincture up and looking at it with a scrutinizing eye. )

Have you been using this yourself?

[The warmth leaves, and he’s almost sad for it. Is this place actually making them have to seek contact to stay warm? Why does this not surprise him?

He settles down nearby, but watches Aspen look over the vial.]

No. I acquired some as reserves for others who may be sick. It’s put in the neck to relieve the symptoms for a while. You may have some.

( he's lucky(?) in that should d put a hand on the counter, aspen will cover d's hand with his admittedly smaller hand. it's nearly automatic, and his touch stays. )

You're unaffected, then? Lucky if so. I wouldn't wish this discomfort on anyone.

( ...

he still looks distrustful. after a moment of still pointedly not taking it, he looks at d in the eye. )

If this reacts badly to my body, will you help?

I don’t seem to be affected yet.

[Yet. He isn’t sure whether or not he will be, so maybe the vial had been a small backup for himself if things got dire.

His rust-colored eyes study Aspen’s face, and then he reaches out to gently take the vial from Aspen again. With his thumb and forefinger, he twists the cap off and slides two bare fingers over the opening. The gloved hand beneath Aspen’s turns over in place, taking Aspen politely by the hand. But it starts pulling, coaxing Aspen around the counter and closer toward him.]

I won’t let anything happen to you.

[His wrist tips the vial and puts some of the oil over his fingers before he places it down.]

Tilt your head back.

( that 'yet' is telling, and he almost considers giving it back to d entirely. his effects are largely mild. this could help d, or someone else that would actually need it. guilt eats at him a bit and he means to turn away, at least before he feels that tug on his hand. he blinks twice quickly, looking first at their hands and then at d as he obeys the silent request.

d speaks, and aspen coughs into his free hand. when his hand pulls away, three petals of a light lavender hue stick to his palm.

and aspen? he looks like he's seen a ghost. he grips d's hand tightly, white-knuckled, and he obeys again, though this time it's less out of curiosity and more the rote obedience of someone who knows to obey. )

[Hmm. Aspen, your lavender petals… Well, they are trying to fix this temporarily.

Both knees part just slightly, and he brings Aspen to stand between the front of them.] I’m going to apply some to your neck, [he says in a quiet voice, offering Aspen some warning.

Gently, letting Aspen still cling to his hand if it’s wanted, he reaches up to thread the gloved fingers around the nape of Aspen’s neck; the hold is feather light, respectful in how clinical it is.

After a moment’s pause, he very carefully places some of the oil on either side of Aspen’s throat. Then he uses his thumb and the curve of its base to smooth the warm liquid up toward the underside of the chin and jaw and down toward the collar.]

Tell me if it hurts.

( he shuts an eye as he continues, trying to ignore the tickling in his throat. the surge of sentimentality hurts. he's been doing so well, and he's trying to force it down for good. instead he focuses on the way d holds him gently.

his heart thrums hard. his ever-present distrust and fear stays, even if it's dampened. he knows that d isn't the sort of person to hurt without reason - but even so, it makes him wary. he lets out a breath he hadn't been holding when he's done, letting out slow and careful breaths. he breathes in deep, and finds the rasp in his lungs to be gentler than usual.

he sniffs. )

It stings. But it doesn't hurt.

[The bare hand pulls away to give Aspen space, but the hand on the back of Aspen's neck stays for a few moments just to be sure nothing terrible happens. And then, slowly, that hand pulls away as well.

He keeps the one doused in oil rested on his thigh at the wrist. His eyes study Aspen's face, watching for any kind of signs of bad reaction. But it seems like it should work as well as it had for a few others.]

You can keep it.

[Even if Aspen doesn't keep using it personally, he's sure Aspen would at least offer to use it on anyone he saw plagued by the disease.]

Do you have something I can wipe my hand with?

( aspen doesn't even bat an eye before he pulls at a slit in his dress. pockets!

he hands a cotton handkerchief over. )

Thank you. I'm afraid for as much as I deal in medicine, I'm not the best convalescent. Better that I had this now, and... perhaps I can find out how to make something stronger.

( he wipes at his eyes before refocusing on d. )

You said you were meeting someone. Why for? You're not making trouble, are you?

( he jokes with a tiny, forced smile. )

[It feels almost crude to ruin this nice handkerchief. He takes it and hesitates for a long moment before he somewhat tenderly cleans a little of the oil off his fingers.]

You are free to try. It may be beneficial to others as well.

[He glances up with his eyes before looking down again at what he's doing.]

I'm meeting Sakura.

[He does not exactly answer the first question, and he cannot say whether or not he is making trouble. He doesn't think so. He's a good boy. Usually.]

Edited 2022-12-09 20:22 (UTC)

Oh!

( his smile turns more natural, the tension in his small shoulders ebbing. )

She's a good woman. I can't quite understand her, but nevertheless, I trust her. You'll be in fine hands.

The harbor seems more... busy, lately. Everyone seems in a hurry. I don't know why, but... I'm starting to sense that something is going wrong.

[Aspen had assigned him naughty boy...

Once he's finished cleaning his hands the best he is able, he neatly folds the handkerchief and somewhat hesitantly offers it back out to Aspen... as if he's maybe a bit ashamed having made it dirty.] Thank you. I'm sorry for the mess. [Perhaps he should have just asked to wash it.

Sakura is a good woman, D agrees, but he again doesn't say anything about it. He isn't sure if Sakura wants the business spread, but he doesn't think Aspen would necessarily be a terrible person to know what the meeting is about.]

What do you mean...?

( court-assigned naughtiness.

the court is aspen. naturally.

he chuckles when he's given the handkerchief back, and slides over a glass dish. )

No need to apologize. It's cotton. ( he reaches across the counter to take hold of his crystal staff. the air seems stuffier for a second, but after a shake - no, two, the first getting a frown out of aspen - the oil seems to slide off. it collects in the dish as if it hadn't soaked through the cloth at all. ) It's why I only wear cotton and linen. Well, until I can find some good silk. As long as my magic behaves, I can control plants - even ones that have been treated and woven into fabric.

( he actually hands it back to d to touch, so he can see that it's perfectly dry - like new. when he does that, he sobers, putting his staff back. )

... I mean what I say. Surely you've had a moment where you sort of - look up, and you can feel as if the air has grown thick with tension. Something like that? You wake up, and you know something isn't right. It's a dark feeling in the back of your mind, nagging at you.

That's what I feel now. It's not normal for so many people to be here, not like this. Not in this weather. And I think most are going to the docks, for gods know what reason. I wish I'd inherited my father's scrying... it'd be useful about now.

[The only things that move are D’s eyes. He sits and watches, transfixed, as Aspen rids the cloth of the medicinal oil. He doesn’t look amazed, or baffled, or fearful, only extremely clinical and studious, like a man watching the working innards of a clock.

When it’s handed back, he gladly takes it for inspection. He runs his fingers gently over the material, curious. Controlling plant fibers…

Then he lifts his eyes again, still holding the handkerchief in his hands. He doesn’t feel seen so much as Aspen simply says something very familiar. Understanding.]

The people on the docks are going to the Shadowlands.

[It has to be the only real direction those with anxious hurry are headed. (Like him? Perhaps without the worry.) It makes sense. Maybe not in the reason why.]

Pieces of who we were are there.

[But saying it now is an understanding something doesn’t bode well for them if that is the case.]

( aspen nods slowly. it makes sense - though he prefers to keep his excursions to the shadowlands short and early. the idea that they're going there for their 'homes', or the like - that, however, makes him purse his lips. )

I don't see how that would be helpful? Ah - or is it sentimentality?

( he tilts his head, thinking out loud. )

People do tend to get sentimental around the end of the year. Celebrations and holidays notwithstanding, I suppose some people would like to visit who they were...

[Normally, he would have no reason to disagree with this assessment. But something about the feeling... about what Aspen had said before, doesn't sit well with him.]

I think it may be something else.

[The hurry is one thing--the hurry itself--but the anxiety mingled with the rush. Almost as if people are urged by some seed of fear to race as fast as possible to the Shadowlands.]

The feeling you described... I've felt it once, just for a moment. Something must be happening in the Shadowlands.

... happening? In the Shadowlands?

( he does give pause, momentarily stopped mid-step of going back behind the counter. that sounds. concerning. he looks at d sidelong. )

Not me. ... but. I haven't seen Laurent in a while. Do you think... he went there? Not that I - ( he lets out a soft scoff. ) I'm not his keeper, but - if anyone, he seems the type to follow a bad feeling to its root.

Did you feel inclined to go, too?

[The former question makes his lips thin into a small frown. He mostly leaves Laurent to the man’s own devices (that isn’t his business), but the idea of Aspen not even seeing Laurent…

He thinks about Eddie being missing, about Sakura looking for a friend who is also missing.]

I don’t know. Laurent is foolish sometimes, but he isn’t a stupid man. I think he would take someone with him in case. [Someone who had some brute strength, someone who could be used as fodder if things got bad.] The feeling did make me want to investigate.

When was the last time you saw Laurent?

No, he's not stupid. Prideful at worst.

( he frowns, taking a moment to think. )

I saw him in passing a few weeks ago, now. I don't normally question his whereabouts, but with this cold and the strange feeling... I shudder to think. I know I'm one to talk, but - he's small, and smaller people have a tendency to grow cold easier.

What about you?

[Hmm. He doesn't try to make Aspen's concern a big deal. It's kind, to think of someone as prickly as Laurent when the hurt is so heavily concealed.]

A while ago. When he told me something I don't think he would tell anyone. He must have been cursed.

[Which... worrisome. But why expect any less in this place. This feeling in maybe just another "curse" of sorts plaguing them.]

I'll see if I find him in the Shadowlands. When I come back, I'll look around for him.

( ah. ... he might know what it is, but out of respect for laurent - he doesn't embellish or ask. still, it makes him a little happy that laurent might have people that will understand where he stands. he nods, then. )

Thank you - I appreciate your help. I'll try to let you know if I find him as well. Hopefully he's alright.

And you are too, I trust? I've been helping Augustine with a medicine, and I think you two are similar - if you need something...

[Me realizing they both could have pestered Laurent with the phone even if Laurent wouldn’t answer maybe.]

I’m alright.

[Would he say this even if he wasn’t alright? Probably. Much to Aspen’s irritation more than likely.

It’s fine…]

What kind of medicine?

[His brows pinch ever so slightly, but he keeps looking at Aspen.

Slowly, he offers the handkerchief back.]

→ d, harbor

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