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

[theotherright]

The purring vibrates through Arthur's chest, seeming to hum against every rib, soothing in the way that only a cat's purrs can be. Once he's sitting, he gives another inch to the plant's effects and holds the cat tight to his chest, and lowers his face to its soft fur. As far as surrenders go, it's far from the worst.

"God." It comes out quiet and a little choked. He lets out a breath, clears his throat. "All right. So long as it doesn't get any worse, we should... we should be all right." An amazing display of eloquence from this guy.

[ring_for_giles]

The cat keeps purring, rubbing against Arthur's face and headbutting his chest gently. A reassurance perhaps, or maybe it just wants more cuddles, it's hard to say.

[theotherright]

You'd better believe that the cat gets more cuddles. The pets and fusses this cat is receiving right now can hardly be described.

"You're such a sweet thing," says Arthur, fondly.

Then, because it doesn't take much to make him sentimental: "I have only had one cat, and he wasn't half so glad to see me. There was a time when he would run out of any room I entered into. He adored my aunt and uncle to bits, but I was an intrusion on his quiet life that he didn't ask for, and he wasn't shy to show it."

There are reasons for the intrusion to have happened, but a cat that might actually be listening doesn't get that part of the story.

"Anyway, at- at the time, I was quite desperate for the poor beast to like me, and I ended up doing the most... ridiculous things because of it." It's one of those memories that meant so much at the time, but which he tells now with nostalgic humour. "Once I gave him nearly the whole week's ration of bacon in one day. I- I don't know how I thought I wouldn't be found out. And I was, I got the caning of my life for it; but the old monster did wind himself around my legs from time to time after that, and so, in the end, I considered the exchange quite fair."