fracturarpg | [mingle] the space (april).

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[mingle] the space (april).

interim mingle

( WELCOME BACK, TRAVELERS. )

There's nothing but the clatter of train tracks, and the odd feeling of almost floating.

When you wake, it's hard to tell exactly what it is that you're missing - only that you are. There are pieces that aren't quite right, even if you're not sure where those pieces would normally be. Pieces of what, exactly....? Well, if you had to put a word to it, it would be - yourself, probably. Or did you get something back recently? In addition, characters will find that they've been allowed to bring back souvenirs from this most recent trip - trinkets, nothing violent, but items that can fit in your character's pockets, whether that be sentimental or otherwise.

The place you've found yourself in is strange, certainly. It's probably worth exploring a bit. For those who have been here a while, they might notice some expansions. Though it just as easily seems that the only form of welcome or explanation that you have, comes from nothing more than a slab of marble.

It might've changed since the last time you saw it. Today it reads:

(*´ω｀)o That wasn't so bad, was it?
Hey, you know how that old song goes?
Do you believe in magic? (☆▽☆) Do ya?

Hope you found what you were looking for!

You might have changed since the last time you saw yourself too - perhaps with a new emblem on your clothes, or a portrait on your skin. In addition to that, it seems like Home Base is on the fritz again…?

It seems that suddenly and at random, characters will be able to suddenly see visions of memories that aren't their own flash before their eyes. Pieces of your lives or where you were before this will suddenly slam into other's heads, as clearly as if they experienced the event and the feelings themselves. You might have an inkling of where your memory went and what it was - but you'll need to talk it out with that person in order to recollect it in all its strength back to yourself. Don't you want to keep those precious parts of yourself? It's best if you don't fall more to pieces while you're here. (Memories that have been lost in fragments cannot be sent to others - that's more fun for the future!)

There's no need to fret that much though. You've already gone through the ordeal once, and you might be able to see results from it. Or maybe you'll get a glimpse of where you're going next. Even so, it's best that you don't get too comfortable, because there is still the unshakeable feeling:

There's still much more ahead of you.

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You do, too.

[now excuse him while he has more ice cream also, to keep himself from going on and saying too much. they're just mutually not looking, at this point.]

[ god, royce is stupid enough that he just chills in silence for a while. holding wen ning's hand like a doofus. he's finding he likes the sensation enough that he's not too fussed about pulling away. especially because he knows that wen ning can feel everything fully, right now, and royce cares enough to give it to him.

his thoughts wander - over the gaps in his memory that he's so very aware of, in this moment. he knows he's felt similar to this before but he can't remember why. it's frustrating, fuzzy, and it starts to make his head hurt if he thinks about it too long. so he doesn't, just lets out a sigh and stares out across the food court.

he's let his guard down. and that's why wen ning gets a memory, even though royce isn't even really thinking about anything related. it just happens.

it's warm here. it smells, sure, but he's not really unused to that. he can deal with the smell of sheep if it means he gets to sleep inside, away from the bite of the wind and snow. he only means to nap for a little bit, but time gets away from him. and when he opens his eyes, there's a tall, angry man standing over him, stabbing a pitchfork down in his direction. it's a scary perspective, from a child's point of view; someone much bigger than him, wanting to kill him for disturbing the sheep.

without thinking, he tries to roll away - the pitchfork catches him in the shoulder, and he cries out, grabbing for the wound. it bleeds freely as he scrambles out of the pen and runs as fast as he can down the snowy street. the man yells after him but he doesn't listen. the wind is harsh enough to freeze his tears to his cheeks.

he runs until he can't hear the yelling anymore, until his lungs feel like they may burst, but he knows he can't just sit anywhere. this isn't the first cold night he's made it through, but - it might be the last, he thinks fearfully, stumbling slightly. the pitchfork wound throbs dully, and he hasn't stopped bleeding. it's snowing heavily, now. he's hungry. he's numb. he drags his feet until he finds a tavern, and he stares up at the warm lights and listens to the laughing and singing coming from inside. they'd beat him if he tried to go in, he knows. so he does his best not to make any sound as he turns and looks for something to hide behind.

he's lucky enough to find an empty barrel, which he crawls into. the wind isn't as harsh in here, but he's still cold, and damp. he curls up the best he can, resting his head against the wood, and tells himself to stop crying. nobody's listening. nobody ever does. except for maybe - except for maybe novron? maybe novron and maribor will hear him if he asks really, really nicely. quietly, he asks novron to help him survive through the night. please. he knows he's a filthy mir, but just this once. he doesn't want to die. ]

[he's content to sit in silence, too-- content with his company, with the contact and the warmth of royce's hand in his. wen ning could easily stay like this for some time.

--but things aren't that easy, this time, and there's a slight gasp as the memory slips to him. it's hard to experience, resonates a little because wen ning does know what it's like to know others would hate you for what you are. he doesn't know this particular kind of suffering, though, having had a decent enough (if lonely) childhood; by the time it ends, his eyes are wide and a little watery, one hand reflexively touching his shoulder at the phantom pain of that wound.]

Royce--

[he should apologize for having seen something like that, he thinks, but there are other thoughts crowding it out. he doesn't let go of his hand, and what comes out instead is-]

... you were treated so terribly.

[ royce is only vaguely aware something is gone, and so he startles slightly when wen ning speaks. royce glances at him, body language defensive all at once. ]

... What? [ fuck. a memory? treated terribly. it feels like it was far back, maybe, and royce doesn't let go of wen ning's hand, but he does close off. ] What did you see?

[he frowns, both at the thought of it all and how royce closes himself off... he really can't blame him, though, when things like this really should be private.

wen ning shakes his head slightly, as if trying to clear it a bit.]

You... must have been young, I think. You were trying to sleep somewhere, and someone... stabbed you, for taking shelter.

[wen ning's brow furrows deeper. treating anyone at all that way is unthinkable, much less a child, and his voice remains quiet.]

It was so cold.

[ oh. for a split second, royce looks - horrified. that is a memory nobody should have to see. a memory he doesn't want anybody to see. his body tenses, and for a second it feels like he's going to yank his hand away, but. he doesn't.

calm down. his expression is tense, but stoic again. ]

Ratibor was not kind to orphans. I wasn't the only one. [ royce says stiffly. another pause. ] I was around seven. Maybe. I don't know how old I am now. Let alone then.

[under most circumstances, he might be inclined to flinch away when it feels like royce is going to yank his hand away. to let go and allow it. this time, though, he holds a little more firmly when it feels like they're going to break contact.]

...it felt like more than just the world being unkind to orphans.

[not purely in general. he has no idea what a mir is, but that thought sticks as he continues on with the rest of it.]

You avoided a tavern because- they would beat you. Stayed inside a barrel, instead. And you were... asking someone to let you survive the night.

[ he's very, very tense. mostly in the way that means he just won't move, he'll barely breathe. it isn't wen ning's fault and he's aware enough to know that, but he feels a little violated. this is one of those memories he keeps locked up, never looks at, never pulls up for strength or anger. he was sad and pathetic and small, and he never wants to be that again. ]

Novron. [ royce supplies, curtly. ] A useless -- I thought he was a god. He isn't. Just an elf, pretending to be one, centuries ago.

[ he looks away. ] I suppose you heard a term you're unfamiliar with, then. If it was that memory. Mir.

[ no hiding it now. ]

[wen ning really can't blame him for the tension, but it still puts him ill at ease as well. makes him want to ease it, to try to help, even if he's not quite sure what to do.

for now, he decides it might help more to not press too much.]

I... I did.

[and, a little quieter:]

You don't have to explain, if you don't want to.

[just because he heard it doesn't mean royce owes it to him, if he wants it to stay unfamiliar.]

[ that does help. it's not like royce was expecting him to press in the first place - wen ning isn't the kind to drill him for information. but having it confirmed that he doesn't have to talk about this if he doesn't want to is nice.

it isn't that big of a deal. wen ning shared something heavy with him last time. ]

It isn't important here. [ honestly. it isn't going to make a difference because nobody will care if he's an elf in the space. ] Mir means half elf.

[ he's silent for a moment, then: ] Half elves are unable to own homes, in many cities. They're unable to find work. Unable to walk down the street without being spat on. Kill one, and it's unlikely that any kind of law enforcement will care. They are less than dirt, less than rats.

I pass as human because I don't have the pointed ears.

-oh. But if you couldn't, then...

[well. he doesn't especially want to think about what that would be like, really, not after seeing that memory. his brow furrows deeper, and while there's definitely sadness there--

he's gripping that hand a little tighter, and there's a spark of something a little closer to anger.]

...no one should have to be treated that way, just for what they are. Where they came from.

[ royce glances at wen ning, at that note of anger, and it - feels familiar. he doesn't know why - hadrian cared, but not enough to do anything about it. not that royce would hold that against him; it's not like royce has done anything for his own people, as disconnected from them as he is. still. he can't remember why, but he can't hide the affection in the way he holds onto wen ning's hand.

it's a quiet thank you, but a thank you nonetheless. ]

No. I don't think so either. But the world does what it wants. There's no changing the minds of thousands of people. [ sniff. ] It is easier for them to mindlessly blame mir for their problems. So they'll do that.

People only care about what affects them personally.

I... I know. But it's still... it isn't right.

[a shake of his head, there, his frown deepening.]

...It was a little like that for us, too. After the war, and what the rest of our Sect had done. No one cared that Granny or our uncles
or the cultivators under me hadn't done anything wrong, or that A-Yuan was too young. They just-- cared that we were all Wens.

[ royce scowls, at that. it's the only thing visible under his hood. ]

It isn't right. [ royce echoes. ] You do not deserve what was done to you.

[ royce thinks he probably does deserve what was done to him, but he's not going to go into detail about that. ]

[oh-- he appreciates it, glancing back to royce there, but-]

Neither do you.

[for all that his tone is soft, there's still a firmness to it. he doesn't care if royce has said before that he's done terrible things-- no one deserves it. no one should ever have grown up that way.]

[ he wonders if wen ning saw the shit he's done he'd still feel the same way. he doesn't want to think about that, so he just looks up at wen ning, solemnly. ]

Mm. [ that's about as much as he can manage. it's a thank you, even if he doesn't agree. he's ruined a lot of people, a lot of lives; it makes sense to him that life would take everything from him in return. balance.

for now, he just links their fingers and is quiet. he can allow himself this much, he thinks. a moment where he isn't waiting for pain. ]

[wen ning has seen a lot and his opinion would NOT change thanks!! but he accepts the response, growing more used to reading royce; that's all the answer he needs, the quiet and the continued acceptance of closeness, even if they're not as close as they have been before.

and then something slips, once more.

this time, it's a memory royce is on the other side of, one he knows as well as wen ning-- but from another perspective, one with less depth perception. roses on the desk, nervousness until royce finally admits to them; a sunny, warm fondness at how wen ning thinks it's cute. that he's cute. sweeter than wen ning would have expected when they met, more important than he ever thought.

he'll get to feel exactly how nervous wen ning was when they finally talked, finally making an admission of his own, the fear there along with an inability to stay quiet any longer-- and the sheer relief there is. the warmth. how happy he is, how much something small like the kiss against his hand makes him think he wants more.

there's an alarming amount of restraint, considering how badly wen ning wants to kiss him properly in that moment. more than anything else-- but he wants to keep him close. doesn't want to push anything. so he doesn't act, fully content with what he has, because it's so much more than he ever thought he could get. because he really thinks he just might be in love, and he'd be happy with anything.

--then back in the present, he blinks, concerned.]

Again? Was it-- bad?

[the last thing royce needs right now is more of his trauma.]

[ oh. wow.

it takes him a long moment to really digest all of that, and he looks - vaguely alarmed? royce stares at wen ning for a long moment, still and skittish, and tries to sort through his own feelings. it doesn't necessarily carry over, but still... still. ]

I - no.

[ it wasn't bad? necessarily. just. wow. ]

You felt. Very strongly about me. In Montevallo.

[oh. oh, definitely not bad, but-- wen ning looks alarmed for a moment too, color rising to his cheeks at the realization.]

It-- was from then-?

[it doesn't necessarily carry over, no-- but he does know what those feelings were like. why he had them. he doesn't think their other selves are really all that different.

still, he really never meant to say anything about how it was for him then, and he's at a loss for just what else to say to that.]

I... well, we did know each other for some time, and a lot h-happened, and...

What-- what was it?

[ they're sitting here holding hands and royce is still shocked about how it was in montevallo. he's stupid. he's so emotionally stupid. ]

When I... ah, got you roses. Before everything ended, when we were in your room. [ is that a slight flush on royce's face? maybe. ] You're right. A lot did happen.

[ he shifts awkwardly. ] I didn't know I was that important to you, then.

[he exhales a slight laugh at that, because he can't help it. of course royce was that important.]

I wouldn't... ask you to stay with me if you weren't important to me.

[or tell him how he wanted him there, or that he wanted him to keep bringing flowers like that. he made that space theirs for a reason.]

[ just internal shrieking forever thanks ]

I don't get people asking me to stay. [ he says, lamely, and then he clears his throat, looking away again. god. emotions are hard. ]

... I don't stay unless it's important.

You've-- had one now, at least.

[he smiles a little at those words, gaze dropping to their linked hands. a part of him thinks maybe he should ask if royce would stay with him here, too, if he asked, but...

well. it's different. maybe he shouldn't. instead he just says, softly-]

I couldn't... appreciate everything as much, in the last place. It's nice.

[the contact, he means, thanks to his condition there. it sounds a little lame to him as he says it, but.]

[ the hood tilts back just a little so wen ning can see the twitch of royce's lips. ]

I know. [ royce says, watching wen ning with that same soft look he doesn't know he's wearing. ] I'm enjoying that you're enjoying it now.

[ a pause. maybe a bit hesitantly: ] I'm enjoying this. In... general.

Edited 2020-04-24 22:28 (UTC)

[that soft look is going to kill him a second time, thanks! his own smile softens, there, warm and fond.]

...I am, too.

[a pause, and:]

It's not... too strange for you, because of our-- other selves?

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