currently open prompts, might make some closed ones for people

[laidtocrest]

WHO: Sylvain (laidtocrest) & you?
WHAT: Various and sundry TDM-adjacent prompts and/or a catch-all so everything can be caught.
WHERE: Various places. Some ice cream themed prompts so probably at least one place is the ice cream parlor? But I can come up with other things.
WHEN: August
WARNINGS: Will be updated with warnings.

A. Why should the bank vault oversharing just happen in July?

[Sylvain's steps slowed as he entered the building, as he'd gotten used to the gray of the city, and it wasn't as if he'd never seen color before, but it's still quite...well. A Thing, caps intended, to go from gray to teal and pink and over-saturated colors that shouldn't go together, but it does.

He's still trying to decide what he thinks about the situation. Food, potentially tasty. Music, strangely familiar? But, while he weighs his options (does he want the normal looking chocolate ice cream, or the weird pink ice cream that doesn't seem like it's strawberry), why not small talk?]

So...what'd you get from the bank?

B. The real reason why I'm writing this, tbh.

[Sylvain's sitting in a car. No engine. No fuel. He's got a cup of mostly eaten chocolate ice cream with him. He had taken it to go. This had been a mistake.

He's sobbing, leaned over the steering wheel, carrying on like he just received some horrible news - like someone had died (again) - just very emotional right now. Lots of feelings, so many feelings that he had to immediately hide in something (badly) and start sobbing again.

This car isn't going anywhere, much like his life.]

C. I was going to make a darker joke for this, but then decided against it.

[Regardless, in a sudden nihilistic spree Sylvain's in the process of strategically looting pilfering getting neat shit from a store, which really does bring up the question of where their waste goes, huh? He's suddenly got questions about toilets which is terrible, because he was in the middle of doing something.

Back to that something. That something is this: a shopping cart, a generic store, and going through rows of balls. He considers two basketballs, weighs one, weighs the other, considers the texture of them, puts one into his shopping cart, he reconsiders, and switches it back again as he feels like Dimitri would prefer the one that hurts more if they accidentally clock each other in the face with them. Makes it feel more...real. True to home.

Other things in his shopping cart include two lacrosse sticks, because even if Sylvain has no idea what lacrosse is, he feels like Dimitri might feel better with them for...reasons. They're shaped in the right way, in certain respects.]

Probably says something I'm getting stuff to hit each other with... [Philosophical questions, he and Dimitri can explore the world of sports together, somehow, even if they don't understand most of these things.]

D. Wildcard...?

[PM me if you want a prompt, or surprise me.

I'll also err on the side of caution and admit that I'm possibly walking into another workplace disaster on Monday, so I might be slow? Might be okay. (Much Happened last week, caps intended, I don't mind telling the shitshow story but this isn't the venue for it.) If I am slow and you want to know what's up or plot/handwave, go ahead and give me a nudge and we can work something out. It's cool.]

Comments

A! also sorry to hear about your workplace disaster

[bemist]

[ Gebura is, as ever, minding her own business while also scrutinizing the ice cream with an air of wariness like it's liable to sprout fangs and try to kill her.

Which wouldn't be too out-of-place in the City, but probably not this city.

She then turns that same look on Sylvain, with an extra ounce of skepticism in that sharply angled eyebrow. ]

Nothing I feel like talking about.

ty, people ended up bringing in alcohol last Friday and not in a good, celebratory way.

[laidtocrest]

Yeah, same!

[This is probably a little too upbeat given the conversation, but, first off, it's always nice knowing that he's not the only one who got a thing attached to a memory he doesn't want to talk about. Second, he's really tempted to try to taste the strange pink abomination of ice cream...fuck it, he's looking for a spoon or something small so he can get a sample of it. Just a little.]

I didn't even get something useful. It was just a chess piece. [And just in case she didn't get it...] A chess piece. If I got the whole set I could play a game with someone. What am I supposed to do with just one?

[In fact, he's got it in his pocket, so: Sylvain takes out the chess piece and sets it on the counter for this woman to admire if she's so inclined. It's wooden, well made, well worn. A knight piece.

Back to the spoon search.]

I'm starting to wonder if anybody got anything...pleasant. You'd think at least one person would.

[Okay. He found a spoon, a small sample spoon, he's going to try the pink thing-]

Or if not pleasant, at least useful...

[Sylvain voice trails off because what the shit did he just put in his mouth. (It's bubblegum. He tried the bubblegum. It's a flavor that defies comprehension. He can't even continue because his taste buds aren't capable of really comprehending bubblegum flavored anything, they're just too confused.)]

[bemist]

I can't help you there. I'm not about to go into detail [ and oh is she glad she no longer feels the urge to go into detail or even talk about it at all ] but I can say, at the very least, I couldn't call what I got pleasant or useful.

Maybe yours was just meant to be symbolic, though I'm hardly the right person to ask about a chess piece.

[ And she'd go on, examining the piece a little more critically, but she has to pause to take in the look on Sylvain's face. Which doesn't seem like the look of someone enjoying ice cream. ]

... Maybe you should spit that back out.

[ Just in case. ]

[laidtocrest]

[Yeah, you know what, yes, he is going to go spit out the ice cream over in yonder sink - there's now a sink there, and the pink thing's getting spit out over there.

Then, Sylvain gets a cup of water - since there's a sink, there's water, and he's using some kind of cup. He swishes the water and spits it out. His mouth works for a moment as he tries to think of the best way of putting it.]

I have no idea what it was I just tried, besides ice cream. I know what ice cream is. [The bubblegum flavor requires taste buds that the residents of Fodlan have yet to evolve.] It tastes...pink- as in, if I had to give a taste to the color pink, that's it. That's what it would taste like. And kind of...fruity? But weird fruity.

[They can get back to the angst, this is more important. What the shit.]

[bemist]

[ Gebura is witnessing this with the air of one who is used to watching people do things they maybe shouldn't do but has since decided to let them do the thing and learn from the experience themselves. Just like now.

Sometimes being a killjoy has its benefits. ]

... I have no idea what any of that means, but I can tell you it definitely doesn't sound like something I'd want to try myself.

[laidtocrest]

[He half-turns then to look at her, an immediate knee-jerk reaction, a reaction that probably has the same oomph as a startled rabbit flushed out of the brush by hiding - Sylvain doesn't know this, as he's just really surprised.]

Really?

[Why wouldn't anyone want to try something that tastes like the anthropomorphic representation of pink?]

What's the point into going into somewhere like this if you don't try the weird flavors?

[bemist]

The point is checking out a new location while seeing what strange effects or possible risks the items inside pose to people who are trusting enough to try them immediately.

[ Bluntly.

Also this is not her idea of a good time, Sylvain. ]

B! Time for a car wreck!

[hardestbattle]

[What in the ever-loving heck is this thing? It looks like one of those metal contraptions she's seen around town. But larger, and there was a shape of a person inside of it. She can't see them properly from her vantage, but they appeared to be hunched over? Her blue-painted face scrunched up as she observed them for a moment longer.

Something was wrong.

Were they trapped? They appeared to be trapped. The voices were quiet for now, not offering any helpful advice. Not chittering away. Laughing at nonsense. Senua didn't like it. Part of her felt a twinge of anxiety, a twinge of fear as the shadows around and inside the car seemed to twist in her own perspective.

But the person seemed not well.

Slowly... cautiously... she approached. Before leaning over and peering into the glass. Debating on how to help, if she knew this person, what might be wrong. An equally painted hand came up to gently wrap on the window.]

cw: stupid

[laidtocrest]

[It takes him a moment to realize someone had noticed him, because he was caught in some tainted chocolate ice cream pit of woe and wasn't really paying attention to much of anything. Sylvain looks up, and then...over, staring at the stranger and looking like he had just underwent an existential breakdown. (He had, actually.) And then Sylvain frown-stares, a single tear rolling down his already disgusting cheeks, because there's an existential breakdown he can get back to, but also...

Does he know this person?

...doesn't think so.

Now, see, he doesn't know what an engine is, let alone what a car is: the absence of things isn't something that he really noticed. The car being weird isn't something he noticed. But it does feel like it's missing something because how the hell are horses supposed to pull this thing?

Sylvain fumbles for the door latch, very upset because everything seems so overwhelming and nothing makes sense. Opens the door slowly.]

Hello? [This is the saddest sounding hello? he's ever said.] Sorry. I'm not normally like this. [This is the saddest sounding excuse he's ever said.]

i love this

[hardestbattle]

[They most certainly do not know each other. Yet that didn't really bother Senua too much. Not with where they are, or with the potential for unknown threats. With the shadows and shapes and voices that she sees and hears all around them. It was better to look into, and help, others as much as you could.

Even someone who was currently sitting inside... whatever it is that they're sitting inside. Something with what appeared to be wheels.

Anyway! He opened the door! And he really looks like he's in a rather sorry state, doesn't he?]

Um, that's quite alright. But... what's the matter?

[She's not very good at this, she's not even very good at dealing with her own emotional things!]

I do too this is horrible but also great

[laidtocrest]

[Under different circumstances, Sylvain would have tried for some flattery, some flirting, maybe? Mild flirting not meant to go anywhere so much as meant to deflect. Something about how he can't be doing that badly if he's got someone kind like her worrying about him, a woman attractive in a warrior who could possibly disembowel him sort of way. People tended to not ask the person smiling casually if they're in the middle of an existential crisis, and women tended to assume the guy hitting on them is doing okay.

He wanted to do that. He couldn't. For one, Sylvain knows looks like shit, probably, and probably doesn't want to look in a mirror.]

I don't know.

[For another, his voice is trembling too much to really pull off...well, most anything, and his emotional reserves are low, and he feels naked and exposed like he has to do a sprint of shame and the girl kept his pants, and...

So, with a sigh, Sylvain slowly gets out of the...metal thing.]

I guess it's just everything that's getting to me. I thought I was doing okay, and then it just all came crashing down when I was alone with some ice cream.

[Sylvain's yet to make the connection, he's just too distraught, he's looks in one of the mirrors and isn't sure if he's glad that there's no piggish chocolate mess around his mouth, or upset that he's hit a point in his life in which he has to think, "Well, I'm sure glad there's no piggish chocolate mess around my mouth 'cause that definitely could've happened!" Or both? A mix of both.

See? He didn't want to look in a mirror, but he did, and it just makes everything all the more worse.]

I miss...nature. [He misses a lot of things but they're starting there.]

the mixture is just too good

[hardestbattle]

[Sylvain could certainly attempt his womanizing ways. She probably wouldn't get it, or be confused, or deflect them. Maybe a different time. For now, yeah, boy ain't lookin' like his typical, pretty self. All red-eyed and tear streaked, and clearly crying his eyes out. Senua's been there plenty of times, and figures he probably needs to talk.

So, she's still here, blue-painted face still looking at him with a hint of concern.]

Sometimes that does happen.

[Stated in, what was hopefully a soothing tone, though one voice questioned it. She did her best to shut them out, impossible though that might be.]

You miss... nature? That... [She thinks about that. Then looks around herself. A nod follows.] ...I do as well. Where exactly do you come from?

[laidtocrest]

You wouldn't have heard of it. [Sylvain says this with (miserable) certainty, conviction, even: he wouldn't have called it a bad thing to begin with, and he still doesn't think it's a bad thing that nobody knows who he or Dimitri are, but as time passes it does get lonelier and lonelier.

Things nobody needs to know, but might slip out by accident one day...or five minutes from now depending on how things go.]

I'm from Faerghus. It's a half-frozen patch of dirt, but it's my half-frozen patch of dirt. Not much is there, the food sucks, it's impossible to find anywhere to have fun at sometimes, but we've got the clearest skies I've ever seen and our forests are never ending. So's our snow, but you get used to it.

[Sylvain leans against the car, arms crossed, staring at some patch of ground or rock or whatever else.] I miss getting woken up in the middle of the night by something like an owl or a screeching fox. Isn't that...I'm not sure what. Who misses hearing a fox screaming like a woman died in the middle of the night?

[hardestbattle]

I haven't heard of many things until arriving here.

[Not just many things either. Most things here was a first for her. Ice cream, cares, air conditioning. RUNNING FREAKING WATER! This is all a far cry from most of everything she once had.]

A fox making noise is a good sign that an area is safe and plentiful. [Or, safer for human habitation.]

It's not odd at all to miss the sounds of the forest. Or it's animals. It can be comforting sometimes. [And other times foreboding. But in this case, she'd rather take the sounds of things you can't see over the silence. The staring shadows that dart around the corners from a distance. The confusing signals from the voices.]

...You miss your home then?

c

[unrequite]

[ ............ Even though Midnight's a bit of a jock himself, he surprisingly doesn't know much about sports. Even so....... he's pretty sure that the sport played with that ball isn't meant to be full contact, so that sure is an odd thing to say. (The sticks, though... that is something he is aware is full contact.)

Which are things he puts together as he hears Sylvain's voice float on the air as he tucks a couple throw pillows under his arm and saunters over. Ah, lovely. He gives him a grin. ]

Long time no see, lad. Getting active?

[laidtocrest]

[Now, here he is. He's aware that plotting to throw a ball violently at your friend/roommate/prince's face is likely the sort of thing that would go over weirdly with people who don't get what Dimitri's like. He's also aware that it's the sort of thing Dimitri would probably enjoy, because Dimitri's masochistic like that. He likes long runs, training, and fighting. Violence. Being active?

He also doesn't know how much Midnight just overheard.

(He also doesn't know what he's actually supposed to do with this ball, it just seems like a good chucking ball.)]

Oh...hey. [This also reminds him that Gregor's been missing, but he can angst later, at leisure.] Guess you can say that. I made a few promises and figured I oughta try keeping them?

[Please ignore how his face lights up at the sight of the baseball bats over yonder.]

[unrequite]

Oh?

[ Promises to keep, huh... Midnight looks over at the contents of the cart, then back at Sylvain. A serious promise, then. One that takes some modicum of effort.

(Midnight heard a bit of the muttering, but not enough to judge anything. He wouldn't, anyway. We both know he's a bit of a bleeding heart.)

He looks over when Sylvain does, noting the bats and how he's responded to them. (Why, exactly? Midnight doesn't know, he just likes to see his dear lad happy.) ]

What sort of promises require sports equipment?

[laidtocrest]

[You know, he could give a normal answer. Sylvain knows this. He's aware of this. There's a perfectly normal way of putting this. He also decides that he doesn't feel like it.

He looks at the cart, looks back at Midnight.]

I have to beat up my roommate.

[More realistically, it'll be Dimitri beating him up, it doesn't matter how depowered they are, Dimitri can take him in a fight nine times out of ten and Sylvain knows it, but still.

...okay, fine.]

Or he'll beat me up, either-or. One of the two. Probably him beating me up, really.

[unrequite]

[ ... One needs sports equipment for that? Midnight looks at the cart of what he now understands are bludgeoning tools, remembers the joy on Sylvain's face when he spotted the bats, and... Well, he's more puzzled than he was before, but he continues to give Sylvain benefit of the doubt. Because what's the harm, anyway? Syvlain's the one agreeing to a beating, not him. ]

Rather roundabout way of going about it, if a fight's what you're delivering. Why not just stick to your fists?

[laidtocrest]

I mean, I guess I could.

[Why yes, he's seriously answering this while examining the various sports equipment that involves poles. Weighing them in his hands, feeling the heft, doing some thrusts with them - not at Midnight, just testing them.]

It's less about him beating me to a pulp and more- see, my friend was trained in how to fight with spears. I...

[And now he has to think about this. He's very obviously thinking about this. Look at him think about this.]

Think he took some axe classes but I know he's miserable with those- anyway, he's had a rough couple of weeks and I feel like he'd feel better if he got something that's close to a training lance and went at it with me for a few rounds.

[Which does not explain throwing the basketball at Dimtiri's head, but listen.]

Main problem I'm having is that the balance on everything I've found so far is off for a spear, but that's nothing patience and a knife can't solve, I figure.

[unrequite]

[ ... Huh. Which begs the question of what the promise actually was. Was it simply cheering this friend up or a simple case of promising a few spars? Either way, it does explain why Sylvain lit up at the sight of the bats, though — if anything here is vaguely sword-like, a bat is it. ]

I'm sure you could find a taker if you asked on the network for some sort of craftsman with regards to a simple spear... Or is this more of a covert operation?

[ Is this a surprise beating? Is he going to (platonically) jump his friend, or is this more of a formal spar? The sky's the limit. ]

B

[fourhope]

[Hooo boy, It's not been a great month to be an empath. Sure preternatural senses have been dimmed ever since arriving in this cursed City - but nowhere near enough to skate through this completely unaffected. Honestly, he's been quite the hermit for the most part this month because of it. It's honestly a lot to take in. And yet, groceries only last for so long and he refuses to live on protein bars on principle.

A choice that he's starting to regret as he walks near an abandoned car and feels his chest positively throb with feelings. Strong enough to bypass the usual dim cotton layer that fills his senses unless in close proximity. It stops him in his tracks, but all he does is take a moment to press against his heart for a moment before continuing to the car where he feels the emotional pull. Face pale, he quietly knocks against the glass of the car to try and get the strangers attention.]

Excuse me? I'm sorry to intrude, but are you alright?

[He obviously knows the answer, but also does he really? Given how things have been in this place, he could also be way off base. Also, it's just good manners.]

[laidtocrest]

[He's deep within his tainted chocolate-laced breakdown, head against the steering wheel, lost to the world. All he can think about his how much of a failure he is, how much he's disappointed a lot of people, how much-

There's a voice. Sylvain jerks up his head, accidentally honking the horn, and then he startles again, staring at the wheel, as up until a few seconds ago he didn't even know that the thing he crawled into could make noise. That this was an option. Where he's from, things only made noises if they were something like a cow and you pushed it over.

Inanimate objects usually didn't make noise. What the shit. But maybe this is an improvement? Instead of being straightforward miserable, he's now miserable and highly confused.

Sylvain looks back at the stranger, and tries to remember the question.]

Uh.

[What had he been asked...oh, right.]

Yeah? [That's a terrible lie, and he knows it, it wobbles, and it's quickly amended.] No. I haven't been alright for a while, so you'd think I'd be used to this sort of thing by now.

b...

[plunges]

[ Xiao cannot claim to have avoided the ice cream, himself -- he's actually walking back to his apartment straight from the parlor. He'd gotten half a scoop of the strawberry ice cream, which, in hindsight, was a mistake. Not that he can tell right now, because he's currently hellbent on finding someone that he can talk to about something he's been keeping close to his chest.

That someone happens to be a familiar face, who also happens to be sobbing inside of one of those strange contraptions he's seen around the city. The sobbing is muffled, very much so, but Xiao is close enough to the car to hear some of it. He stops, peers through the window...and knocks on the door. Is he in danger? Is that why he's in so much distress?

Only one way to find out. ]

Sylvain. Can you open the door?

[laidtocrest]

[It takes him a moment to react. First, he has to realize that there's someone there - he doesn't really realize someone had approached him until he hears his name and a familiar voice. Then, he looks up, and over, and there's a familiar face.

Now, it's not as if he doesn't remember the guy. He remembers that this is the guy who has the thing that's almost-but-not-quite a crest stone. (Which doesn't help with his mood, but Miklan's dead and gone and- breathe.) Him. That guy. Dimitri's friend. The one from Teyvat. That place. Him. He remembers him.

...what was his name?]

Oh. Oh hey.

[...Sylvain doesn't remember, and also has a slight headache from crying which isn't helping with the remembering a guy's name, and the fact he doesn't remember this guy's name but the guy remembers his just makes him feel worse and-]

Hold on. [He pops open the door.] Sorry, I'm a mess.