I'm two quarters and a heart down... 🎵 [OPEN]

[bolderfell]

Who: Therion, all prompts open
What: World news, Armistice Day...?, and suddenly, dancing is magic
When: Early November
Where: Aube, Soleil, Legionnaire Quarters
Warnings: Alcohol in the Soleil/Armistice Day prompt. The last prompt features unpredictable Feycraft-style magic that I'll be randomizing, so if you DON'T want that but still want to play with that prompt, please opt out on Therion's permissions page! If you wanna look at the potential effects and probability tables, those live here.

I. Aube 3rd floor common room, early evening

[To the surprise of probably no one who's ever been to France, it's raining, which means all the good little boys, girls, and others ought to play inside. The TV in the common room is tuned in to the news--in French, with English subtitles--but Therion isn't paying it much mind. Instead of parking his butt in a chair like a normal person, he's seated in one of the windows, back to the television, with a towel open over his crossed legs. It's there to catch wood shavings, apparently. As if playing unheard counterpoint to the drizzle pattering against the glass and the newscasters' French, Therion's hands turn in constant, unhurried motion as he whittles a stray chunk of wood into some other, smoother shape with a pocketknife. He looks content as he works, not at all afraid of cutting himself.

Only when a woman reporter says the word 'voleur' does Therion blink and crane to look at the screen. The story--one about a strange rash of thefts--must have been wrapping up, though, because they move right on to something else. Therion hesitates to say anything, but then finally asks:]

Hey, did anyone catch what that was about? I missed it.

[He. Ah. Maybe still doesn't know that much French.]

II. Soleil, Nov. 11th, night

[Whoof, okay. As the type of person who avoids attachments as a rule, Therion feels no particular loyalty to his homeland. Still, it is kind of awkward to be a Turk in France on Armistice Day. The Ottoman Empire didn't exactly make a good showing in World War I.

He has other things to commemorate tonight, though, so even though he's leaving one bar that was just a little too patriotic, he's heading right for another, cheerful despite autumn's growing chill.

After all, he knows his drinks are going to be discounted tonight.]

III. Legionnaire Quarters, whenever, time is fake

[Or: The Prompt With the ✨Randomized Oopsie Magic✨

To tell the truth, Therion isn't a frequent visitor here. It's not that he doesn't keep fit on his own. He just doesn't like testing and pushing himself where other people can see. It's been three months since he arrived at Daybreak, though, and there's only so much practical exercise he can get on the job, such as it is. Especially when he's stuck here and has to keep a lower profile. So, gym.

Today, he's got music playing in an area set up for gymnastics, which he's treating largely like an obstacle course. Not all the equipment he springs off, flips above, or balances on is meant for such use, but structural instability's part of the game, apparently. If something actually gets knocked over, he sighs, stops, and resets it, then runs the route again until it's flawless. And he does all of it in his hoodie.

Then, satisfied with himself, he tries popping and locking it all the way down the balance beam.

Halfway through, the balance beam, for a second, levitates.

Startled, Therion blinks through the beam, pinwheels, and hits the mats with an off-beat thud. The beam lands immediately, too, but not without noise of its own. Therion scurries back from it on all fours, eyes wide.

The fuck.]

Comments

I.

[improbablenotimpossible]

Oh. I seem to recall we had an issue with that when I first arrived here.

['Arthur' lowers the book he was reading - something in Spanish with some blood drops on a white cover - glancing over to Therion, as his lips pursed slightly, recalling the details]

Never stole anything worthwhile, and tried to badly frame one of the professors. So they had moved on like I suspected.

[bolderfell]

[So it was a thief. Well, that's at least one word he can say he knows. Nice.]

They were here? Damn. Were they a student or something?

[improbablenotimpossible]

The evidence that was found gave a strong suggestion that they were not a student or faculty here, but an intruder.

[He puts a ribbon in his book, setting it aside for now, eyes flicking to the wood carving in curiosity]

[bolderfell]

[Hard to tell what the carving's of just yet, if it's of anything. Therion seems to be keeping most of the basic shape of the branch he found, but cutting into it, making windows, of a sort.]

They got away with it?

i;

[transfusionem]

[The common room is a good place to get craftsy, it seems. While knitting isn't quite as messy as carving, Adelaide's managed to take up quite a bit of space with her yarn as she lounges on the couch.

The news is a welcome bit of background noise, and it's good to see how much French she's managed to pick up since February. (The answer is more than she thought - which is good.]

Ah...Something about some thefts. Mostly weapons, it sounds like?

[She lowers her current project, looking over at Therion.]

[bolderfell]

...Well, that's something you never want to hear went missing.

[He's thinking, like, WMDs.]

[transfusionem]

Yeah...Seems like it was mostly weapons that weren't being used, though, so it's probably not a big deal?

[It's definitely nothing to the scale of a WMD.]

[bolderfell]

Don't know about that. I'd think most weapons aren't stolen while they're in use. Kind of difficult to pull it off at that point.

[Though not impossible.]

iii;

[synthsized]

[Rover doesn't exactly need exercise, but that doesn't stop them from showing up at the Legionnaire Quarters and going through the motions. There's still some benefit in learning the limits of the body they've been given.

They don't pay much attention to Therion, content to let him go about his...routine? without interruption...aaaand then they hear the clatter of the beam landing, and they turn to him with a blink.]

The hell did you do?

[They heard some sort of commotion, and with how shocked Therion looks... Something Happened.]

[bolderfell]

...I fell.

[No shit. Now conscious of his audience, Therion picks himself back up and goes to inspect the beam, but glances back at Rover before he makes contact with it.

Are they gonna just keep watching him?]

[synthsized]

Loud fall.

[Bullshit it was just a fall.

They're content to watch Therion, though, crossing their arms over their chest.]

[bolderfell]

I'll work on crashing more quietly.

[Mrrrghgrrmggmr. It's a public space, so he can't exactly tell them to buzz off. All he can do is block Rover's line of sight with his body as he at least checks to see if his powers still work.

When he swipes his hand the way he's done a hundred thousand times before, it still goes through the beam. Okay. Okay. That's still fine. So what the hell was that before? Nervous now, Therion hefts himself back up onto the beam, bouncing a bit as if to test its integrity--and its respect for gravity.]

ii

[deuteranope]

[Truthfully, Maverick wasn't sure whether to make sure he was scheduled as predicted or ask for the night off -- not supposed to drink on the job, shouldn't favor one customer in particular, blah blah... But if he's there to just be there, he figures that might be a little much. Not like he really knows the guy that well. It's better to guarantee the discounted, maybe sometimes free, drinks by being behind the counter and not acting overly familiar. Besides, he wasn't even sure he wanted more friends now. More people to care about that would inevitably show their true colors as spies or accidental spree killers. You know, the usual.

He's still telling himself to measure his expectations, stupid, when he realizes that every time someone's come into the bar area, he's looked up to see if it was Therion. Eventually it is, and he awkwardly grins and waves. He came... Amazing. Except it was just for the cheap tricks and quiet atmosphere, duh.]

[bolderfell]

[Aw. Therion waves back when he catches sight of him, then pulls his scarf an inch up, as if he's embarrassed. He is, though it's not about the waving. It's how foolish he feels, after all this time, for liking the idea someone could be genuinely happy to see him.

He's all smiles by the time he gets to the bar and to Maverick, though--the part smug, part shit-eating, goofy look of he who knows he's the man of the hour. He folds his arms on the counter, wry but still, stupidly, touched by what amounts to a kind invitation.]

You were right. This is the only place to be tonight.

[deuteranope]

[It doesn't mean anything, that little adjustment. See, everything's back to normal now, and Maverick can confidently roll his eyes and prop himself up to match.]

Of fucking course I was right. I'm kinda a goddamn genius. [Phew, he managed to not say something embarrassing, like something about how the view here is better than anywhere else too, which most certainly wasn't true, but it was smug bastard hour here at the Inn of Atropos.] What're we starting with, then?

[bolderfell]

[He shrugs affably, sitting.]

Night's still young. A Pilsner would be fine.

[Just because it's his birthday doesn't mean he wants to get stupid plastered right away. He raises his brows.]

Unless you have a recommendation.

iii

[spelleton]

[ He generally tends to check in on the Legionnaire Quarters every day, and linger for a few hours, more or less. There's always someone who needs assistance or care, given the sheer amount of students on campus who exercise and practice there, so it's better for him to be around than not.

He notices Therion in one of the areas early on, but decides to pass on by - Therion is uncomfortable enough as is, and he doubts he'd appreciate being watched, least of all by someone who he has bad memories of.

But the next time he goes past, there's the sound of the beam falling, and someone hitting the mat, so he thinks he'd better check.

He pokes his head in. Oh dear. ]

Are you all right?

[ Not hurt, he means. ]

[bolderfell]

[Therion rolls quickly to his feet. If he has to look stupid in front of someone, he'd rather it not be someone who actually kinda complimented his skills, sorta, once. Also, he can run if he needs to. He brushes his hands off on his pants.]

Yeah, it's nothing.

[...

He glances sidelong at the balance beam.]

None of the equipment here's magicked like some kind of... practice trap. Right?

[spelleton]

Hmm...well, these ones aren't. [ There's magicked equipment for special training, of course, but it's not just lying around for anyone to use without being aware of it. ] They'd be marked if they were.

[ He catches that glance at the balance beam and goes to inspect it, running his hands along the wooden surface. Probing with his magic, trying to find out if there's anything wrong or off about it. Stranger things have happened than an apparently boobytrapped balance beam, after all, so it never hurts to check.

Though knowing how magic is, he might just set something off instead. Oh well. If that happens he'll just deal with it. ]

III

[adjectiveprince]

[Zagreus stopped in the doorway as he watched the balance beam drift into the air. After a moment, he wandered over to help Therion back to his feet.]

It's not supposed to do that, is it?

[bolderfell]

You saw that?

[Frazzled, Therion stands before Zagreus makes it to him, so the question of whether or not he'd accept a hand up goes unasked.]

...Do you think it's haunted?

[adjectiveprince]

[Zagreus stared at the floating beam for a moment.]

...Nnno, I don't think there's a shade at work here. It feels like something else.

I

[imitationsoul]

[ Though Miach's not a social type at all, arriving at Daybreak has made her take to people-watching. Everyone in this place is so uniquely weird and she's been having an unsettling amount of fun with it.

Which is why she's curled into a common room corner with a book right now and looks up at Therion's question. ]

Weapon thievery. Though apparently nobody is particularly concerned about it. 'Don't sweat the little things' goes pretty far around here.

[bolderfell]

[Oh. Her. Can't say he hasn't been interested in hearing what this one has to say after her introduction on the network, but she's obviously got no sense of subtlety. Or self-preservation. Better tread carefully.]

...Yeah. I've noticed that, too.

[He continues his whittling, but Miach has most of his attention now.]

It's impressive, the things this school brushes off.

[imitationsoul]

And it's not a carelessness that can be explained away by lack of ability either.

[ Therion's got a read on her exactly correctly when he pegs her as a person without a real sense of self-preservation. She's very interested in the concept of rock bottom and has no concerns about dragging others with her as she goes. ]

I've checked the archive. This institution has been around for centuries, but there is not a single record of any past missteps. Isn't that a little curious, given how much goes wrong on a daily basis?