saturations | AUDIENCE FOR: aymeric de borel

[ thanks. He offers them his phone and when he takes it back, he looks at the app? A whale? All of this a lot, actually. ]

Would you mean abilities and items we would normally know and have from our stars? [ One or the other, he obviously means. ] And it would cost three tokens?

That's right? It might not be exactly how it is on the star you live on [clearly they are misinterpreting this] but something along those lines. Three tokens.

[just talk to us ooc and we can figure out what would be appropriate!]

[ they can think he lives on an actual star, it's okay. and thank you. ]

I see. [ :worry: ] Thank you for the explanation, Lord Shale.

I had also wanted to ask of the gumball I received yesterday. 'Tis named "Sentinel at Death's Door." The paired message said it can be used to keep a condemned target safe... For clarification, does this mean the convicted can survive execution?

[ He's... Dubious. ]

Huh.

[when aymeric says that name, shale looks curious, a little thoughtful. all things hard to read on a statue but you get the vibe.]

...Mind if I take a look at it?

[ why hasn't someone drawn Shale some eyebrows? Eyebrows tell everything? ]

Here, though I am unsure if you would be able to read the message... 'Tis worth an attempt.

[ They may have... Green gumball! And the text which he doesn't think can be read? But who knows? ]

[if aymeric would like to propose drawing eyebrows on shale then please do so you're just going to dress my statue in a bunch of pretty collars and frog hoods and draw cartoon eyebrows on them and i'm so, so happy about it.

they don't really look at it. they just hold the gumball in their hand even though aymeric is going to put that in his mouth later. unsanitary :( but they go still and quiet for a long moment. and then there's a rumble of a chuckle, a little surprised but pleased, and they hand it back.]

...Huh. I get a really good feeling from that. You don't feel that? [they hand it back. it just feels like a gumball.] I don't know exactly what it'll do, but...what you're saying you think it does doesn't sound impossible to me. I think you should hang onto that.

Sometimes luck has a way of bringing something to the person who should have it. I'm glad you have something like this. You're a good man.

[ okay i am working on it.

... Well. He will live with it and accept the gumball back. ]

It feels like what it is to me. [ LIKE A GUMBALL. He grows quiet for a moment, expression turning a bit hopeful. He laughs a bit. ] 'Twould seem many people would tell me that, as of recent. It never stops being flattering and some embarrassing. Thank you, Lord Shale.

[ With that out of the way, he claps once before gesturing to the gifts. ]

And now would be time to sift through your new garments.

[im losing my mind this is so funny]

Let's see what we've got here.

[opening the package! they seem delighted!]

I'm going to look really fancy in all of these. Wow! [holding up a frog hood and putting it on their head. beautiful.]

This will definitely help with the erosion problem.

[ ........................... help.... Aymeric smiles a smile that obviously spells he wants to laugh really badly. ]

'Tis a good look on you as well, Lord Shale. Very endearing.

[ beautiful. ]

... Say when was the last you spruced your cottage?

[they actually do laugh a bit. it's a silly outfit. here is where i also mention that shale is taller than aymeric by a good bit, so this XL froggy hoodie they found for them is such a look towering over him. but they don't seem to mind if aymeric also finds it silly.]

My cottage?

[they look around a little bit.]

I've been meaning to tidy up for a while. But it's at least a little more organized now than it was last week. [hmm.]

[ shale is... so tall... and it is silly, but it is cute and charming. They may wear it and be tol forg forever. The smile falls when he takes another look around.

I see. ]

If you did not tell me and didn't catch signs of use, [ the hearth, some pieces of the kitchen ] I would have assumed you haven't stepped foot here in years.

[yea! like probably a half foot taller maybe? anyway they seem sheepish a bit.]

...It hasn't been very, uh, settled in here for a long time. Less defined.

... Then much of this manifested recently?

[ ohh. ]

Well, there's much work to be done. I'll assist you in housekeeping.

Yeah, I think so. It would've looked different if you'd seen it last week..

[anyway, that's sweet.]

I'd love a hand with that.

Would that I could see the exact changes.

[ if shale was invited somewhere i hope they are using the eyebrows

He... Will start... with uprooting mushrooms. And thinking maybe they should properly seal the wood so this doesn't happen again. Christ. ]

Do you recognize the trinkets in your cottage, Lord Shale?

[they are helping with this, summoning a broom and cleaning some cobwebs. but after that question, they go and look at the trinkets.]

Yes, and no. They kind of just appear, but I like them. [they point at the golden shiba, the blue dragon, and the pink fox.] Those ones have been here a long time. [and they point at the others.] These ones have started showing up after you guys have been coming in here. It's nice. The brighten up the place a little.

[ He looks up with shrooms in one hand as Shale points them out to him. ]

Those three remind me of the other residents, at least based on their primary.

[ IS THIS MOUSE IN A SCHOOL UNIFORM CHUUNOSUKE? Are these dead people figurines. ]

... After we have arrived. One by one?

[whos to say...]

You've got a good eye. That's who they remind me of, too.

[ if he comes back and there are the same number of people dead as new trinkets, they are dead people toys. ]

They're very charming, adds to the space. [ back to uprooting mushrooms. ] Speaking of space... By the number of the chairs I see you have here, I surmise you used to entertain many guests?

Oh.

[they think for a long moment.]

...I think it's. Family. I had a big family.

[ do i get a family memshare super late ]

Family... A big one. It must have been warm in this cottage. [ hm. It's just two of them so it seems like a lot of space. ] You should invite some to your cottage more often, Lord Shale.

[yes i would love to memshare i just didn't want to force you........you can give me one, too.]

I'll try to do that. I forgot what it's like in here, I think. It's nice.

[but oops here's a bubble!

You step not so much into a memory but into a place, but a place so deeply filled with love and memory that every stone and leaf of it bubbles with familiarity. A feeling of peace, of home, of nature. You are outside to it, and you tend to it. You walk through what is both a verdant garden and an ancient graveyard, caring for the plants that grow here, checking the growth of plants on the plots surrounding you. Harvesting, gardening, thinking.

Here is what you see:

Behind you is what may at first look to be a stone cottage, but it is something older, something that comes to a steeple at the top. It’s a temple, made of stone, old and ancient. Vines crawl across its exterior, grow out of the cracks, and a layer of moss and lichen colors the stone a deep green. The open windows of the temple are overgrown with vines as well, and the wide wooden door at the front looks cracked and warped with its own layer of green and pink moss. Surrounding the temple are rows and rows of gravestones. Most are so old that no names can be read on the stone, though others are newer, fresher. The graveyard looks well tended, but not manicured. There are plants growing everywhere, wild, from the earth of the graves. Vegetables, fruits, lush vegetation and flowers, mushrooms and fungi. All well cared for, springing from the gravesoil.

Aside from the ring of gravestones, this “garden” is more swamp like. It’s temperate and bordering on humid, lush with vegetation. Flowers of many different varieties and meant for many different climates grow freely here, almost as though protected by some magic. It is dark here, due to the many, many overgrown trees that surround this place, the canopy overhead projecting shadows interspersed with sunlight. There are a few crystal clear pools of water, one steaming with heat and another welling up from a spring, deep blue and cold looking. There are smaller pools, as well, and bits of bog where the soft greens and browns of compost fall into green, thick, algae covered water.

But outside this immediate area of lush, beautiful vegetation, about a dozen yards away, rings of iron fencing surround the grove. There are two concentric rings of fencing, the furthest one about fifty yards from the stone temple. It is immediately clear why these rings exist, because past the fencing, dark and twisted bramble and razor like gray-purple thorn vines are encroaching, overtaking the grove. The outermost fence has been entirely covered in these vines, overtaken, now part of a twisted forest that exudes the energy of death and decay. The inner fence has been partially overtaken as well, purple vines wrapped around it in places, bringing down parts of the fence, gnarled branches reaching over from dying trees.

When you look upon this forest, you feel a deep sense of despair, fear, and revulsion at the dead forest. You love nature, you even love the decay that rots and dissolves what is old and dead and from that rot grows something new. But what’s happening to the forest beyond the fence is not that type of decay. It is a death that exists outside the natural order of death, death from which nothing will recover or grow, the feeling of curse and blight, magic that warps. It feels wrong, and it is growing closer and closer each season, overtaking this grove that you love.

You are here with your sister, or the sort of pinkish greenish blur of wild, bright energy that you believe to be your sister, though how distinct she is in this memory comes and goes. You get an impression now and then, pink hair streaked with color, a wide smile, a mischievous laugh.

It's only the two of you now. How long has it been now since you'd built the second fence, and four other pairs of hands joined along with both of you? At least a few dozen seasons now. The grief you feel towards the parts of the grove you lost to the forest mingle with the grief at the thought of your older sister's stubbornness, how mad your brother always made you. Your aunt's wise advice, dad's cooking, the sound of mom's voice... The blighted forest has long overgrown what you built together, and you and your younger sister and now working on a third fence, an inner ring that will perhaps protect your little patch of earth a dozen seasons longer. It's taken you many, many days not just to put it up but to infuse it with the magic it needs to protect the grove, and it's still only halfway done.

Meanwhile, this morning, you find some of the bramble that's crossed the second fence trailing out like a grasping hand, reaching for the nearest little patch of gravestones. You find your sister near the patch, clearing the bramble, a seriousness to her posture and to the expression you can make out.

"C..." You know she's addressing you, but it's faint somehow. You don't remember. "Look."

Her voice reflects the dismay you feel when you see how the little burst of zinnias that grow from the fresh plot out here have gone black, started to wilt. It shouldn't be this close. You have a sacred duty to protect the dead who have been brought here to be cared for and honored in your temple.

"Only this much," you reassure her, softly. "Once the fence is done, it'll hold off. Long enough for help."

Help should be on its way. Help was sent for a while ago. Too long ago. The last one to leave - dad - how long ago even was it? None of you know exactly what this garden needs to save it, so you were expecting goodbye to last a while. But none of them have ever returned, and on dark days, you can't help but think that they must have all...

You shrug off the thought, notice she's trying to get your attention. "I had the dream again," she says, a little hesitant. "The zinnias were in it. I think maybe it's time, C..."

No. The thought is strong enough, if unpleasant, to shake you out of those other more distant fears. You remember every time one of them left. First your mother and your aunt, a formidable pair together, so very long ago now that you were still adolescent, knowing that you children would be safe here together. A little after the second fence went up, your sister left, always the fiercest of all of you, brave and tough enough to take it alone. Your brother had wanted to go then, before her, and it had been an argument, and then when she didn't return he barely waited a full four seasons before he was insisting it was his turn. You don't know if you even believe he waited to be called to it. Dad did wait, maybe longer than he was supposed to, even, but the second fence started to fail and it was time.

The next should be you by age but by temperament...everyone's always known you are the one who is supposed to stay. The best caretaker, a good gardener, good at talking to the ones who come here to bury their dead. A homebody, never inclined to leave. Your little sister has always had dreams of seeing the world. She'd never abandon you, she may be a pain but she's too good-hearted for that, but you know she's stayed only for your sake, so you won't be left alone. The calling each member of your family has felt, to venture out into the world to find a cure for the blighted forest and save your home, seems to have skipped over you and gone to her instead.

You were raised with a strong faith and a belief in listening for signs and guidance and you know the dreams matter, but even so...

"Yeah," you have to agree, because it's your responsibility to agree. "I'll be okay. You're doing..." you hesitate, but make yourself continue. "You're doing the right thing."

You look at her, and you can see for a moment a more distinct image. Her face, like yours, with the gentle animal nose and floppy ears, pink hair and gray skin, kind and open. You try not to resent the relief she feels, and try not to think about how badly you're going to miss her bright smile.

the memory fades.]

Clarabelle...

[ Nice, but what the fuck I’m so sad… Aymeric is also sad. To see the blight slowly makes its way into this beautiful grove, to know the family has left one by one and to have never returned.

For the holder of this memory to stay behind, alone, it’s a sad fate and he wonders what comes next. It takes him a moment and for the question he waits before touching the bubble to dispel of it whole. ]

… Is that your sister’s name, Lord Shale?

[ah. they have to collect themselves for a moment after. touching their chest, where that deep crack filled with vines runs through.]

...Yeah. That's my younger sister.

... She has a beautiful smile, Lord Shale. I hope you two reunite once more.

[ But since the bubble is still here, he touches it. The scene sets.

Dressed in the clothes your parents bought for you, you walk the streets of Ishgard, your home. Her walls tower over you, majestic and great. The knights, too, tower over you and you think of when the time comes where you'll too grow to reach their heights. The men and women who stand ever still, hands on their blades or shields, watching over the Pillars, intimidate you yet you feel swelling admiration all the same.

How could you not? You're only a child.

Because you are a child, your parents encourage to make friends with the other noble children. They would be playing in the Hoplon they told you, so you make some hesitant steps there... You feel fairly nervous, forgetting all of your etiquette lessons, but you muster all of your courage to approach them.

Fortunately for you, the other children are tired of pleasantries and decorum. You can talk to them and play like status doesn't matter. You soon forget what noble Houses they come from, lost in all the laughter and fun. It would have been a good day, one you plan to tell your parents, until you catch whispers of adults who pass by.

"Isn't that Thordan's alleged bastard?"

"I thought that was hearsay."

"And yet he wants to ascend the throne as Archbishop..."

"These men who claim to value 'piety' never truly practice the virtue. 'Tis all superficial."

"I see naught wrong here. The child was born ere his ascendance and passed off to the Borels."

They're not talking about you, are they?

The other children don't seem to understand, either, but it becomes palpable to you when one of their mothers come to snatch them by the wrist.

"Don't play with him, dear. You'll become dirty and it will bring shame to our House."

She looks at you when she ushers those harsh words. At that moment, you think you understand a little of what's going on. Your parents console you when you confront them on this, telling you no matter what you are still their son. You still think about the whispers you heard that day...

These rumors, they follow you for years, and they grow in number. From the same generation, then your own when your peers no longer have that childish naivety to cloud their eyes.

For all of your efforts,
you will be labeled a bastard — belittled, overlooked, and unwanted son
of the Holy See of Ishgard.

Children always have to learn things too fast. ]

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