My better self was always born tomorrow (open)

[ring_for_giles]

Who: Giles & you!
When: Early - mid September
Where: Various
Warnings: The usual changeling warnings + depression



As nights became obsessed with introspection (redbud, purple hyacinth) [Bobby B's]

What had meant to be a quiet evening to himself with a good book for company has quickly become something far more melancholy. He's ensconced himself in a back corner of Bobby B's, book long since forgotten as he stares out into space. Pen in one hand as if he might write in his notebook at any moment, though he hasn't found any words to write beyond the first line, put to by rote more than by thought. His other hand rests on the side of his neck, holding something hidden beneath his collar.

Should anyone approach, he hurriedly returns the notebook to his pocket. But a brief glimpse of the words 'My dearest Dot, might well be spotted before he does so.

The days a contravention of reflection (protea, ivy) [Library]

Mr Ainsel, the little black and white cat that haunts the library, is a little more insistent than usual. Meowing loudly at anyone that crosses its path, and slamming full-bodied into anyone it has more than a passing familiarity with. Demanding pats. And snuggles. And treats. And anything else it could possibly get.

Within the id a stranger I did form [Around]

He doesn't know where he is, well, having explored the place rather thoroughly he knows he's a ship. But he still doesn't know its destination, or how he got here. There's two logical explanations, either Oswald decided on a last minute trip to America or the like, or he let Dot talk him into something inadvisable again.
His money's on the latter.
Now if he could just find either of them, or anyone else he knows, everything might start to feel a little less... uncanny.

To any onlookers, it's almost as if there's a new passenger aboard. One that may look passingly familiar if not quite right. Like Giles, if he were entirely human, if he had dark brown eyes rather than piercing green, and if he were more than a foot shorter.

During the day, he moves between standing out on the deck, watching the ocean and trying not to think too hard about what exactly is going on, and searching the library for a single non-fiction book.

In the evening, he gravitates towards Stan the Man. Where he sits with a fancy cocktail he isn't really drinking, and pretends that he's perfectly fine. He'd much rather retire early, but he doesn't know what his sleeping arrangements are any more than how he got here, and if, as he suspects, he's not here for work, then it's where he'll be expected to be.

A lily on the waters of a storm (Wildcard)

Come find me in the discord if you want to plot something else out!

Comments

Within the id a stranger I did form (Stan the Man)

[ossie_oswald]

Well.

That's odd.

You see, Ossie had up until very recently been living in his continued marital bliss with Giles. And then Giles went missing. And then Giles showed back up; roughly a hundred years younger, by Ossie's count, judging by the lack of height and whatnot. A... shapeshifting trick, perhaps? He dreads to consider any other possibilities as he sits down besides Giles at the bar.

"Now just where have you been wandering off to?"

[ring_for_giles]

Finally a familiar face in all of this. But... not one he'd been expecting. He hadn't actually run away with a mysterious man he'd met once, had he? No that wouldn't make sense, even if the thought had crossed his mind briefly.

At least it tells him what game he should be playing.

"Oh, here and there, you know how it is." He smiles warmly, "I don't suppose you'll be telling me your name this time, will you Pierrot?"

Sorry Ossie, but there's only the faintest trace of Wyrd on this younger Giles, it's no trick.

[ossie_oswald]

Ossie's heart shatters into a million pieces, and doesn't so much as make a blip on his face.

"Not unless you've come up with a better one for me," he teases, "it's a charming name, but it seems a little silly when I'm out of costume, wouldn't you think?"

The grief that fills his chest is without end or measure. What of those hundred years they spent on the edge of each other's periphery, dousing their hands in blood together? What of after? Their courtship, their blissful life together- what of poor Sharky? There's no way this won't break his heart.

[ring_for_giles]

"You'll tell me one day, I'm sure of it" he teases right back, blissfully ignorant of Ossie's grief, "But you're right, Pierrot doesn't suit without the costume, so until then... James"

A common enough name that he shouldn't be questioned on why he chose it, though he does have a reason. Even before everything, Giles had a certain fascination with names, perhaps because he'd taken so little care choosing his own.

contravention of reflection

[teethoftherisk]

Well this is odd. Siffleur's seen Giles from time to time, though they haven't talked in depth since Siffleur hunted him for sport in his game and ate him. He's occasionally seen the small cat around, and given him his privacy and space. It's clear that Giles enjoys being a cat for the same reasons that sometimes Siffleur prefers to be a cat.

But he's never seen him so obviously hungry for affection. Must be the flowers at work, again.

Still, Siffleur just squats down on the floor and gives Giles a proper scratch under the chin, just where he knows it feels best. "Hope someone's keeping track of all these affects somewhere."

[ring_for_giles]

The cat purrs loudly, leaning heavily into Siffleur's hand under its chin. Then it pushes closer and tries to squirm its way up onto his knee.

[teethoftherisk]

There goes Giles, and Siffleur's surprised enough that he ends up sitting down, his hand drawing back for a moment. This is more affectionate than he expected. Will Giles be bothered by all of this when the effect wears off?

All of this leaves his lap wide open.

Introspection

[theweakhavepurpose]

Deputy Pratt is not wearing his uniform, he's in his cult outfit, looking a bit haggard and clearly in need of a drink. Which is why he's here, leaning over the bar to grab a glass and pour himself literally whatever is closest.

Running away from your purpose again? So predictable.

"Fuck off." Whispered under his breath as he gulps down half his drink in one go. He turns to look at Giles, who may not be his favorite person, but talking to anyone is better than what's following him around. Plopping down on a chair across from him he takes another long drink, "Hey. Long time no see."

[ring_for_giles]

"Deputy," Giles greets, it comes out a little more unimpressed than the friendly tone he'd been aiming for, but he's trying at least, "How have you been fairing?"

[theweakhavepurpose]

He winces a little at that, the same tone that John used to use. But he immediately just looks down into his drink because he is not thinking about that right now. Nope. No matter how much the hallucination of Jacob behind him tries to insist it's real.

"Terribly. I dunno what's up, but it's shitty." He rubs his temple with one hand. "Can I ask you something fucking crazy? Can you like.... can you see him?"

He doesn't turn around but he jerks his thumb behind him to where he's pretty sure Jacob is.

within the id [library]

[prince_of_beasts]

Dimitri has an impeccable memory for names and faces, so someone looking unplaceably familiar is not a comfortable experience. Not with these flowers wreaking havoc. They've already torn through his heart; he doesn't need them rooting in his head.

There's no reason to take that out on a stranger, though, much less someone who's newly arrived at a time like this. The young man approaching Giles has a deep frown and a haggard look -- and the sword at his hip might prompt some alarm -- but his demeanor is friendly enough. The voice ... that could be a Welsh accent, if you squint. "Pardon my intrusion, but are you looking for something?"

[ring_for_giles]

"I was hoping to find some reading material that isn't fiction," he says before turning around. And spotting the sword. Out of his element and without the gifts Arcadia had given him to stop others seeing what he doesn't want them to, it's fairly obvious his gaze lingers on it before snapping to meet Dimitri's eyes, "You wouldn't happen to know where I could find any, would you?"

[prince_of_beasts]

Oof. Dimitri stifles a wince. Nothing to be done about that but to make sure his hands don't come anywhere near the hilt.

"You're out of luck, I'm afraid. Our Captain," the title dripping with distaste, "has a juvenile taste in literature. I can show you to the poetry section, if you like, but true nonfiction is limited to a few items belonging to individual passengers." Ah. Right. And -- Dimitri steps back to bow politely. "Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, at your service. Are you a recent arrival? I don't believe we've met."

The days a contravention of reflection

[theotherright]

Arthur starts to move something off the seat of his favoured library armchair, and realises a little too late that what he's pulling away is handfuls of leaves. Of vines.

"Wonderful," he says with flat sarcasm, and then a cat hits him in the back of the legs.

He jumps, of course, with a surprised "jesus--", and then remembers: yes, a cat lives in the library, or at least is one of its best customers. One assumes that the meowing helps with this positive identification.

"You scared me," he adds, with the slight laugh of someone embarrassed.

Well. He was going to turn around and head straight back to the cabin, and hope he didn't shrink or fall asleep or gain an uncontrollable compulsion to talk in rhyme on the way there. But surely he can spare a moment for a cat...

"What has you so excited, handsome little man?"

[ring_for_giles]

The cat mrrrrowls loudly in response, pacing figure 8s between Arthur's legs without ever breaking contact with him. And it's gonna keep doing that unless he tries to stop it.

[theotherright]

Arthur laughs faintly, charmed by the neediness of cats. He doesn't stop it; in fact he goes down on one knee -- slowly, so that the cat has time to notice if he's about to kneel on its tail -- and holds a hand at what he approximates is the ideal petting level, really hoping the cat will go for it.

(The hand is his right. One of the fingers of his left has been replaced with something brittle and black, and John was correct: it hurts to touch things with it.)

"I suppose you're affected by all these damned flowers too? It must be ruining your sport, poor thing."

a stranger I did form (deck)

[broshaw]

Sharky's trying to avoid the flowers as best as possible, having already suffered from the massive clean-freak streak and a bout of miserable reminiscence, but they're kinda hard to ditch when they're growing everywhere. There are two things that will make him feel better about it -- drinking and making out -- but the first is way easier to score right now.

He almost doesn't recognize Giles when he walks by him, but there's something to the broody vibe that makes him do a double-take. The guy's a little shorter, a little less... magicky, but --

"Giles??"

[ring_for_giles]

Bugger

He doesn't look surprised or like he's been caught slacking off, but it's a near thing. If people know him by his surname, that means he's supposed to be working, and he'd been certain that wasn't the case.

"The very same," he says with a tight lipped smile, trying to size Sharky up for where exactly he falls in the scheme of things. It's always harder to tell with Americans. Better to play it safe for now "Is there something I can do for you, sir?"

[broshaw]

Sharky squints suspiciously at him. "Sir?" He leans against the railing, further away than he normally would, but closer than he would to a newcomer. "You feelin' okay, babe? Need me to take your temperature?"

It's a heavy-handed flirtation accompanied by a cheesy grin, but he doesn't follow through with any action. There are a lot of weird things going on thanks to these fucking flowers, and a foot-shorter Giles looking at him like he just got caught smoking during his shift at Applebee's sure feels like one of those weird things. He should probably text Ossie, but there's no way to do that and not be suspicious as fuck. And what if Ossie doesn't know that something's up with Giles? Ugh, he does not want him to turn into goo again...

Wildcard, roomies

[treasonlikebeauty]

So, eventually, Garak finds his way around to this room that's been assigned to him. He isn't sure what to expect, and he's still... on guard, if not precisely nervous. He's expecting a trap, somewhere. There has to be a trap. And he hasn't lived as long as he has by not expecting traps.

He lets himself in, unaware of the potential of having a roommate, and immediately starts going through the drawers.

[ring_for_giles]

Aside from a few things left over from Bash that Giles wasn't entirely sure what to do with, there's no evidence of the room being inhabited. No overt evidence of traps either.

It's not long before the door opens and Giles enters, making a beeline for the bathroom door before he notices Garak and stops short.

"My apologies if I disturbed you," he says warmly, "I was unaware I'd been assigned a new roommate."

[treasonlikebeauty]

Oh, this is an unpleasant surprise. On top of everything else, he's going to have to share sleeping quarters with a complete stranger. Garak does his best not to grimace.

"We have roommates here, do we? And here I thought this room was mine." He plasters on his best smile and inclines his head in greeting. "I had no idea we were meant to share. My name is Garak."

Within The Id (Library)

[freedomsuitsme]

"Can I help you find something?"

Maxwel doesn't recognize the gentleman, who seems utterly normal- not unheard of around here, but rare, even more so now that Johnny's gone slightly left of human. The least he can do is spare the poor fellow a bit of searching, when he's had more time to get a feeling for how this place is filed.

[ring_for_giles]

"I was looking for some non-fiction reading material, although I have been informed there isn't any to find."

He's putting in a valiant effort to hide it, layering it neatly under a servant's guise of professional detachment, but there's a definite air about him of discomfort and confusion.

"You needn't trouble yourself on my account, sir."

[freedomsuitsme]

"I insist. This place is hardly kind to newcomers at the best of times. Most places are not actively hostile- though you should beware the Infinite Tommy Bahama, for hunters dwell in its depths- but the ship by its nature is bewildering and labyrinthine. I was not alone in learning how to navigate it and I would be remiss if I did not extend that same courtesy to others." Paying a favor forward means you don't owe that favor anymore.