[ the Fool is, evidently, not awake when Devin's text arrives. In the (relatively) early morning, however, Devin receives a video call from the Fool, who has propped his yimo up on his counter while he goes about making himself breakfast in his kitchenette. There's some light jazz playing on the radio; the Fool's hair, still damp from the bath, has been pinned up out of his face rather than tied into a braid. (It's too damn hot for that.) ]
You are a night owl, [ observed with a whimsical sideways glance once Devin answers. more sincerely, ] Is everything all right?
[While Devin might have preferred the control of texting, he does answer the call. There's not much to indicate where in his tiny apartment he is, given that he has no decorations.]
I don't need as much sleep as humans. The Dreaming, however, is a shitty alarm clock. [He pauses and glances away as though he might be looking out a window.] There are enough uneasy nights to go around without someone else's visions butting in.
[ Ah. Yes. That would explain much, wouldn't it? The Fool pauses in the process of arranging a selection of fruits on his plate to glance at his yimo again, the whimsical quirk to his lips fading some. ]
Yes, its timing could be better, that I shall grant you. Just a moment, [ and here, some juggling ensues while the Fool collects his breakfast and yimo, carrying both over to a small table beside an open window lined with blooming plants. Some birdsong and wind chime notes carry through. ]
What did you see? [ He doesn't ask if Devin experienced visions; they all have. While waiting for his response, the Fool plucks up an apricot and takes a bite from it. ]
A woman named Al'amar. First all the food she ate was turning to ash, then some kind of siren song, and this last one was... more graphic. She cut into some sort of vine wrapped around a tree and it bled like it was an animal before attacking her.
[He grimaces faintly; as objective as he tries to make his observations, he's not heartless.] It hurt her. I'm not entirely sure how, she wasn't coherent enough at that point, but... [The agony reminded him of his own traumas, so near the surface of late. It's probably why this one woke him and kept him awake, where the others had been less disruptive.] I think they're beyond the barrier, wherever they are.
[A mug appears that is probably full of tea.] What about you?
[ It's hard to know just what makes the Fool's heart clench, Devin's description of this strange woman's suffering, or the small but tell-tale signs in his expression that speak to his own private anguish. There is still much about his friend that the Fool does not know, pieces of his history that are his alone. The hints are there, though.
A slow inhalation, and, ] Her name is Eitria, I think. I can only guess that she is crewman aboard the same ship. Vines made of shadow hounded her and dragged her into what seemed like a burial ground for the dead.
[ He grows quiet, his expression distant, as though the subject has brought him back to a dark place. Undoubtedly it has, for both of them, but he does not appear to mind sharing this moment with Devin. ] In my last vision, she was very afraid.
[the Fool considers the text messages with a soft smile, grateful for the moment that he does not have to put on the appearance of good cheer. Ilda is a sweet child, and it would not do to worry her. He replies,] Of course you may request a carving, and you do not have to pay for it. What would you like?
Yeah, it is. Just a little gift. His wish-granting hasn’t been going well... people don’t believe him, I think. I don’t know if this will cheer him up, but I want to try!
[Devin has had far, far too much alcohol to make this a wise decision, which is possibly exactly why he's done it. The aftereffects of Bobby's presence in Aifaran are... significant. Ugly, or so he would call it were he not currently slouched into the cushions of his couch with a bottle of whisky open in front of him.] it's over
no one died. the dreaming didn't let her have her powers. i'd thank god but It's definitely not responsible for this miracle
USER ID: afoolsgold (the Fool) [The Fool did not intend to fall asleep when he decided to lay down during the hottest part of the afternoon, yet it's clear to him that he was indeed drowsing when his yimo buzzes on his bedside table. He tiredly reaches for it, then starts when he sees the name--moreso when he reads the message.]
[The implication, of course, is that Devin does not entirely - or perhaps remotely - believe X. He could have gotten there faster. He could have insisted on laying a claim to X and therefore know whenever he was in danger. There are a lot of 'coulds', and not all of them sensible.]
i'm surprised i *ever* put your mind at ease. i'm usually a source of problems.
After the incident at the library, Devin considers the implications of being affected by the Dreaming sickness. From a purely practical standpoint, if he can't tell the difference between dreams and reality then he is potentially a danger to other. He's lucky that someone so benign showed up. That someone may not be threatening, but Devin knows he can't keep this to himself in case Sam shows up again.
He opts for text rather than a call, although this will need to be a face-to-face conversation.
USER ID: oldenglish (Parker, Devin)
I'm leaving work a bit early. Are you at the cafe?
The Fool is in the midst of arranging the logistics of delivering an elaborate carving to a patron when his yimo buzzes, signalling a text. It is a few moments until he is able to step aside from his work and the muted chatter of conversation in the cafe to fetch the device out.
Devin considers adding 'I want to talk to you about something', but he doesn't want to concern the Fool unnecessarily. This is probably going to cause enough anxiety without prompting it over a text.
After fifteen or twenty minutes, Devin arrives at Die Rose Tulpe. The Dreaming sickness has evidently started to take its toll; weariness sits heavily on his shoulders, belying the amount of sleep the Fool knows he's been getting. The troubled look on his face is harder to pin down a cause for. He musters a thin smile and waits until his lover has a moment, not wanting to interrupt any customers.
Devin has timed his arrival well; the Fool's only customer is an elderly regular who drops by long enough to admire his carvings and make small-talk about current events or her grandchildren. She's predictable in that despite cooing over his work, she never buys anything.
As she takes her leave, the Fool rises up from his seat at his work station and steps lightly across the cafe to greet Devin, though the smile he has prepared begins to fade the longer he takes in his lover's expression. Perhaps the Dreaming Sickness is to blame for the fatigue that has been hounding them both, but that look in his eyes--
He revives his smile for the sake of appearances; they aren't completely alone, after all. "Shall we go upstairs?" he suggests softly; at least there, they can discuss whatever has brought on this expression in private.
Belatedly, Devin realizes he must look like he's here to deliver bad news of some kind. He's here to deliver news that may not be received well and therefore not necessarily considered good, but hopefully with a bit of explanation won't be considered bad either.
"Please." Devin manages another small, tired smile, and adds, "Your furnishings are more comfortable."
Privacy is also needed, for both of them. This is not a conversation to have in front of prying eyes.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
afoolsgold) wrote2018-01-16 10:28 am
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after an absurd amount of overthinking
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Can I possibly request for a wood carving? I’ll pay for it, of course!
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[the Fool considers the text messages with a soft smile, grateful for the moment that he does not have to put on the appearance of good cheer. Ilda is a sweet child, and it would not do to worry her. He replies,] Of course you may request a carving, and you do not have to pay for it. What would you like?
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I’d like a little hut, please. Something like this, maybe? It doesn’t have to be very detailed, just as long as it looks like a house!
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[a pause, and then,]
Is this for Yato?
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Yeah, it is. Just a little gift. His wish-granting hasn’t been going well... people don’t believe him, I think. I don’t know if this will cheer him up, but I want to try!
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[another pause follows while the Fool contemplates something.]
I have a wish that, perhaps, your friend can grant.
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drunk text;
text;
[The Fool did not intend to fall asleep when he decided to lay down during the hottest part of the afternoon, yet it's clear to him that he was indeed drowsing when his yimo buzzes on his bedside table. He tiredly reaches for it, then starts when he sees the name--moreso when he reads the message.]
Are you hurt?
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[The implication, of course, is that Devin does not entirely - or perhaps remotely - believe X. He could have gotten there faster. He could have insisted on laying a claim to X and therefore know whenever he was in danger. There are a lot of 'coulds', and not all of them sensible.]
i'm surprised i *ever* put your mind at ease. i'm usually a source of problems.
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He opts for text rather than a call, although this will need to be a face-to-face conversation.
USER ID: oldenglish (Parker, Devin)
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USER ID: afoolsgold (the Fool)
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Devin considers adding 'I want to talk to you about something', but he doesn't want to concern the Fool unnecessarily. This is probably going to cause enough anxiety without prompting it over a text.
After fifteen or twenty minutes, Devin arrives at Die Rose Tulpe. The Dreaming sickness has evidently started to take its toll; weariness sits heavily on his shoulders, belying the amount of sleep the Fool knows he's been getting. The troubled look on his face is harder to pin down a cause for. He musters a thin smile and waits until his lover has a moment, not wanting to interrupt any customers.
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As she takes her leave, the Fool rises up from his seat at his work station and steps lightly across the cafe to greet Devin, though the smile he has prepared begins to fade the longer he takes in his lover's expression. Perhaps the Dreaming Sickness is to blame for the fatigue that has been hounding them both, but that look in his eyes--
He revives his smile for the sake of appearances; they aren't completely alone, after all. "Shall we go upstairs?" he suggests softly; at least there, they can discuss whatever has brought on this expression in private.
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"Please." Devin manages another small, tired smile, and adds, "Your furnishings are more comfortable."
Privacy is also needed, for both of them. This is not a conversation to have in front of prying eyes.
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