![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
[open]
Who: Adrasteius; perhaps you
When: 3/5 - 3/15
Where: Throughout Caissa
What: Working hard for the money; inciting the youth; picking pretty flowers
Rating: None
meet & greet; a
[ Sadly, Adrasteius is not the one with the arms. He does have a cascade of thick, lovely hair, though, and the children of this particular school cluster around him, petting him as though he's some kind of cat. But because they're nearly half his already meager height, and because they literally do not know any better, Adra doesn't feel his usual threatened agitation. He's not exactly enjoying himself, but he'll tolerate it. So long as their stubby fingers keep away from his ears. ]
--my people live in a city full of magic, just like yours. There are grand, cream and gold spires everywhere, decorated with enormous rubies that reflect so well it'll dazzle your eyes right out of your head if you look at them directly. Animated brooms sweep our streets, and the lanes of the city are dotted with huge, potted ferns that float. You can find anything you like in the central bazaar--not just armor and weapons, but food spiced with spells, rare books, and potions that'll turn you into things you can't even imagine. We cast magic with every breath. It's as much a part of our bodies as, say, our eyes.
[ He gestures to his own--glowing bright, pupils barely visible. ]
Or yours.
[ It's a rosy picture he's painting. Many things about Silvermoon are not so enchanting as he's describing. He doesn't mention the constructs that patrol the city, barking propaganda ('Happiness is mandatory, citizen.'). The guards who drag people from their beds to harass them on the street. The dens of demonic magic. The brainwashing, done out in the open, sanctioned by their absent prince. Adra's wise enough to know that such things are not for children's ears. So he smiles as he talks, genuine, but undercut with sorrow.
Not that he has time to dwell. The kids just keep piling on, fascinated by his unique physiology, and he might be starting to panic. ]
Not the ears, please!
meet & greet; b
[ Of course, he can't resist deviating from the script just a bit. When it comes time to talk about the pseudo-mana potion, Adra segues into it as best he knows how. ]
--now, not everything in my world is perfect. We do have some bad men running around, doing all kinds of bad things. And they get away with it! Can you imagine?
[ He taps his right earlobe. ]
Now, I hear you have a similar problem, children. Bad men trying to sell you a lie. You can't let them. You have to question everything put to you, okay? It doesn't matter if it's an adult, or what kind of title that adult claims to have. You have the right to think. You have the right to decide for yourself--and you should never bow to outside pressure. Not from a shady salesman, not from us 'heroes', not even your teachers. Understand?
[ A tiny chorus of 'yeahs!' comes in response. The supervising teacher might look a little worried. Maybe someone should step in and soften up the rhetoric? ]
herbing;
[ You'd best believe that Adrasteius spent some of his colle on gardening tools. Just a few things: a small hand spade, a little knife for cutting stems, as well as twine and burlap for carrying specimens. True, he lives in a cramped room with a bunch of other people and an obvious zero-lot line, but he's hoping he can claim a patch of earth for himself, someday. In the meantime, he's happy for the opportunity to familiarize himself with the local flora. He'd spent yesterday reading, observing, and making drawings; now, this morning, he's ready to go.
Back in Azeroth, Adrasteius collected herbs of every kind, and then milled them to make brilliant inks. Twilight purple, carmine, shimmering emerald. Colors infused with actual magic, pressed into the pages of handcrafted spellbooks.
Potions were a secondary concern, but in either case, he understands the importance of a properly handled plant. Gathering itself wasn't the problem. The problem is that Adrasteius remains hilariously frail of constitution, and he simply doesn't have the stamina to carry back what he's digging up.
He realizes this as he sits among a particular patch of herbs, his hair already damp with sweat from digging, his hands dark with soil. ]
Damn it. I'm going to have to start lifting things while standing in place like an idiot.
[ He paws at the soil, agitated. ]
Eating protein. Running.
[ Life is terrible. ]
When: 3/5 - 3/15
Where: Throughout Caissa
What: Working hard for the money; inciting the youth; picking pretty flowers
Rating: None
meet & greet; a
[ Sadly, Adrasteius is not the one with the arms. He does have a cascade of thick, lovely hair, though, and the children of this particular school cluster around him, petting him as though he's some kind of cat. But because they're nearly half his already meager height, and because they literally do not know any better, Adra doesn't feel his usual threatened agitation. He's not exactly enjoying himself, but he'll tolerate it. So long as their stubby fingers keep away from his ears. ]
--my people live in a city full of magic, just like yours. There are grand, cream and gold spires everywhere, decorated with enormous rubies that reflect so well it'll dazzle your eyes right out of your head if you look at them directly. Animated brooms sweep our streets, and the lanes of the city are dotted with huge, potted ferns that float. You can find anything you like in the central bazaar--not just armor and weapons, but food spiced with spells, rare books, and potions that'll turn you into things you can't even imagine. We cast magic with every breath. It's as much a part of our bodies as, say, our eyes.
[ He gestures to his own--glowing bright, pupils barely visible. ]
Or yours.
[ It's a rosy picture he's painting. Many things about Silvermoon are not so enchanting as he's describing. He doesn't mention the constructs that patrol the city, barking propaganda ('Happiness is mandatory, citizen.'). The guards who drag people from their beds to harass them on the street. The dens of demonic magic. The brainwashing, done out in the open, sanctioned by their absent prince. Adra's wise enough to know that such things are not for children's ears. So he smiles as he talks, genuine, but undercut with sorrow.
Not that he has time to dwell. The kids just keep piling on, fascinated by his unique physiology, and he might be starting to panic. ]
Not the ears, please!
meet & greet; b
[ Of course, he can't resist deviating from the script just a bit. When it comes time to talk about the pseudo-mana potion, Adra segues into it as best he knows how. ]
--now, not everything in my world is perfect. We do have some bad men running around, doing all kinds of bad things. And they get away with it! Can you imagine?
[ He taps his right earlobe. ]
Now, I hear you have a similar problem, children. Bad men trying to sell you a lie. You can't let them. You have to question everything put to you, okay? It doesn't matter if it's an adult, or what kind of title that adult claims to have. You have the right to think. You have the right to decide for yourself--and you should never bow to outside pressure. Not from a shady salesman, not from us 'heroes', not even your teachers. Understand?
[ A tiny chorus of 'yeahs!' comes in response. The supervising teacher might look a little worried. Maybe someone should step in and soften up the rhetoric? ]
herbing;
[ You'd best believe that Adrasteius spent some of his colle on gardening tools. Just a few things: a small hand spade, a little knife for cutting stems, as well as twine and burlap for carrying specimens. True, he lives in a cramped room with a bunch of other people and an obvious zero-lot line, but he's hoping he can claim a patch of earth for himself, someday. In the meantime, he's happy for the opportunity to familiarize himself with the local flora. He'd spent yesterday reading, observing, and making drawings; now, this morning, he's ready to go.
Back in Azeroth, Adrasteius collected herbs of every kind, and then milled them to make brilliant inks. Twilight purple, carmine, shimmering emerald. Colors infused with actual magic, pressed into the pages of handcrafted spellbooks.
Potions were a secondary concern, but in either case, he understands the importance of a properly handled plant. Gathering itself wasn't the problem. The problem is that Adrasteius remains hilariously frail of constitution, and he simply doesn't have the stamina to carry back what he's digging up.
He realizes this as he sits among a particular patch of herbs, his hair already damp with sweat from digging, his hands dark with soil. ]
Damn it. I'm going to have to start lifting things while standing in place like an idiot.
[ He paws at the soil, agitated. ]
Eating protein. Running.
[ Life is terrible. ]
no subject
[ She doesn't have a hair brush, unfortunately and children don't exactly understand the need to be gentle, at times. They are rough without the intent of doing so and that makes her relieved she's standing and they're not the ones messing with her hair.
Out of anything Alice dislikes about herself, her hair is the only thing that she takes great joy in, after having it shaved so many times in Rutledge. They're proud of themselves, they offer up flowers to Alice (a little too eagerly) as she settles back down, eager little eyes watching her carefully. ]
Sensitive, maybe, but not delicate.
[ He seemed frail in comparison to her, from the little she knew. Smaller in stature -- which was nice, too. Everyone seemed to tower over her. That aside, Alice was showing them how to make the flower crowns, the center of attention. A teacher, in a way, and how much she wished she could be one, to make her father proud. ]
Careful, now, if you you press too hard, you'll break the steam. You need a little hole like a needle, see?
[ Alice can't do anything about children yanking hair, unfortunately, not as she instructs them, step by step, to make a chain and tie it off into a crown. ]
You see? There! It's not as hard as it looks. You're lucky, my older sister showed me how to make them a very long time ago.
[ As for the crowning, Alice hands it off to one eager little girl who insists on doing it, instead, so Alice allows her to drop it on Adra's head. Of course they're giggling and as for Alice, she taps her chin thoughtfully. ]
You remind me of my pet cat with that on your head; I used to do that for her all the time.
[ Hearing them laugh is worth it. ]
wails bc i misplaced this notif and thought i had replied MY APOLOGIES
More than that, Alice seems pleased. Relaxed. In her element. He watches her with the children and thinks that this ought to be her profession: working with them, guiding them gently. She's well suited to the task. ]
Mm, did you? I'm sure she loved it.
[ He touches the flowers, sounding only slightly exasperated, a half-smile on his face. ]
Anything for the children ...
never apologize considering how many days i work lol
[ It feels awkward to confess that; it wasn't that long ago she wasn't sure she was ever going to see flowers again back in London. The children don't seem to think much of it, they're more interested in fussing with his hair and the flower crown.
Because she's often so sullen, she's not sure if the words sit right, no matter how pleased she is with the results. The smile seems to fade away as Alice's mind wanders to the dark, polluted world of London. It's days like this that feel so surreal. Having one little girl tug on her sleeve and asking her what's wrong pulls her back into reality.
A better reality. ]
Ah? It's nothing, I promise. And you, you're a patient man, I admire that.
no subject
[ He just shuts his eyes and accepts it as the children clamber over him, chattering excitedly, behaving for all the world like a pack of largely amiable monkeys. ]
I've been accused of many things in my life, but never patience.
[ He opens one eye. ]
Alice? Are you all right?
no subject
[ She's actually impressed, if not grateful for the fact. Even as they resume clamoring over him, Alice can't help the small frown. ]
Me? I am alright. I was just thinking I haven't seen flowers in quite some time.
no subject
[ Even so, he gently nudges away yet another little moppet grasping for his ears. He frowns as Alice goes on, looking back towards her, his eyes soft with concern. ]
Really?
[ What kind of awful place are you from? But he refrains from saying it. He's capable of restraint, now and then. ]
Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we.
no subject
[ She's half-joking, half serious. She will be the first to insist that children sleep, eat, and climb as they please, so that they can grow, not like her. She'll spare them all that lecture, thankfully, smiling once again as he nudges another away.
She nearly finds herself laughing once more. The awful place that is London is far too polluted for pretty things like flowers. ]
I would like to see you try, if you can manage to escape their grasp.
no subject
Ah, it's not so bad, being small and skinny.
[ He ruffles the grasping--now sleepy and yawning--kid's hair. ]
Not all the time.
[ But then he stands up, brushes himself off. ]
As for them, it looks like they're finally starting to tire themselves out. It's a war of attrition with kids. You don't escape them--you just wait for nap time.
no subject
[ To her knowledge, none of the children in Houndsditch. They were either starving or far too traumatized to sleep well. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. Alice smiles, letting the children saunter off as she slowly stands.
These are good jobs and Alice enjoys them quite a bit. ]
You sound as if you have had experience with children before, Mr. Adra. Do you have any yourself?
no subject
[ Azeroth is a war-torn world, and its cities teem with orphans. Few of whom live as well as these children do.
Adra's mind wanders, just as Alice's did, but he's brought back by her question. He nearly winces. ]
Ah. No.
[ A wistful pang throbs in his heart at the thought. He looks out at the kids, most of whom are now napping peacefully. ]
One day, though. I hope.
no subject
You'll make an excellent father.
[ Why is he sad? Adra must have his whole life ahead of him, doesn't he? ]
no subject
[ He laughs weakly. ]
But, dreams, right?
no subject
[ As cynical as she is, she would like to offer up some words of encouragement to Adra. It isn't fair to see him dismiss the possibility. ]
My father was middle aged when I was born.
[ All because she assumes Adra has to be the age he appears to be. ]
no subject
[ Is that middle age? He looks to be in his mid-twenties; no more than 25 at most. Hard to say, with elves. ]
But if it happens, it happens. If it doesn't ...
[ His shoulders slump. ]
It doesn't.
no subject
[ Alice has to stifle herself before she speaks any louder amongst napping children. ]
If you're centuries old, why wouldn't it.
[ It's on the tip of her tongue -- how could he be that old? ]
no subject
[ He lies down on the floor, sighing, staring at the ceiling. You can't just ask a centuries-old man why he doesn't have kids yet, Alice!! ]
As a consequence, we are insufferably vain until we die.
[ He rolls onto his side. ]
As a further consequence, I do not particularly stand out.
no subject
You shouldn't say that.
[ When do these people marry then? ]
Especially when you have not found anyone like you [ What is he, anyway? ]
no subject
[ He presses his cheek against his inner arm. This is getting depressing. ]
Not here, certainly.
[ Probably not in Azeroth, either. ]
no subject
[ Alice ends up picking a flower and tossing it at the back of his head. He doesn't need to think like that, or curl up. She does what she can to be supportive, here, but there's only so much she can say and she knows this. ]
Pouting like that won't do you any good, either.
no subject
[ Well. Maybe he is, a little. He sighs, picking himself up, and the flower, too. ]
We're finished here, regardless.
[ He tucks the flower behind his ear. ]
Thank you for all your help, Alice.
no subject
Very well. At least let me walk with you to where you are going, Mr. Adra.