Event Twenty-One

[awashmods]

Sometimes I feel happy, Sometimes I feel sad. Sometimes I feel curious, Sometimes I feel mad. Sometimes I feel silly, Sometimes I feel surprised. How many feelings, Do I have inside?

t's another regular, normal day in the Town. There's absolutely nothing to show that anything could possibly be wrong; the birds are chirping, the sky is bright, and everything is absolutely, entirely wrong. This time, though? The problem is internal. Slowly, bit by bit, people are going to stop feeling entirely like themselves -- or maybe even stop feeling at all. And suddenly that nice, bright day doesn't seem quite so nice and not quite so bright any longer after all. Welcome to Awash's Twenty-First event log, everyone! Further information on this event can be found here at the OOC post. You are welcome to make your own logs and posts for this event! If there are any questions, please ask them here. Thank you!

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[regrede]

[ sierra follows without protest, but she does curiously raise the string on her own finger. ]

Is it something to be ashamed of? This string.

[ she knows how the town works. it draws on folklore and fairy tales from all places across all universes, but the red string of fate is one she’s unfamiliar with. if magilou knows something, it’d be nice to have the information for her own peace of mind.

she curls her pinky, briefly pulling the string taut as it adjusts to their current proximity, and lets it slacken again. ]

[witchual]

Not ashamed of, exactly. It's old folklore, at least where I'm from.

[ Normally, she would concoct some intricate story about the wheels of fate and the alignment of the stars, or something equally brazen, but the entire day has been weird. When she speaks, her voice is even, her words clear and without pretense. ]

A red string connecting soulmates around their little finger. So the town's used that story against us... which seems par for the course with this place.

[ If anything, it feels like they've been forced in a get-along shirt. Thanks, town. Folklore aside, that feels like a reason others would find amusement in the predicament. The connection between them, tenuous as it is, is aggravating... But in a way, being honest with Sierra feels like the best option. Maybe the get-along thread, and this entire confusing day, is getting them closer to an understanding. ]

[regrede]

Soulmates.

[ sierra repeats it, a little incredulous, but not with quite so much cynicism as it deserves. she doubts this is the town’s way of telling her that she has a fated future with magilou, but it’s a message all the same—for what? for getting so irritated with her that she let her magic fly? it’s hard to tell. ]

I don’t take it you’ve been harboring some secret affection for me, all this time.

[ a bit of humor of her own, perhaps in desperate place of magilou’s. ]

[witchual]

Well, I have been known to congregate around the strong, silent, and moody types.

[ There's a tinge of humor in her voice in return. Small perhaps, but still there, complete with a coy smile on her lips, however forced.

The idea of "soulmates" aside, it's probably a message of some sort, a heavy-handed lesson delivered in the most obvious of ways. Either way, as they near the church, Magilou's smile falls into something more contemplative. ]

I wonder... what is this string trying to tell us? And will it cut itself if we follow its lesson like mere sheep marching to the unknown ends?

[ Despite her grim words, she does a bit of a curtsey close to the entrance of the church, as if to tell Sierra, "after you". Maybe she's being kind, or maybe she's just too lazy to open the door for herself. It's hard to tell. ]

[regrede]

[ sierra listens to magilou’s words and takes note of the gesture, maybe a little at odds with the dour prediction, but she chooses not to say anything to encourage it. as much as she wants to be herself, full of confidence and certainty in every step she takes, it’s difficult right now. it’s hard to imagine it’ll ever be easy again, but being next to magilou…

…why, strangely, it makes it feel a little more possible. ]

Don’t say such things.

[ sierra lets herself into the church, after a beat of uncharacteristic hesitation. she’d led them here in the first place, and she’s never been weak to such holy buildings, but lesser of her kind have burned for weaker figures. ]

I’ve found that playing along makes it easier.

[witchual]

[ It only takes a moment for Magilou to follow Sierra inside. Curiously, the string seems to be phasing through the heavy church doors, as though the momentary barrier between them is nothing more than smoke to whatever machinations this town has in mind. It's not uncomfortable. Churches might not necessarily be cheerful places in her mind, but there's an odd comfort she feels from the presence of her companion. ]

I've never been good at playing along. I'm normally the conductor.

[ She gives a little wave of her untethered hand, batting the thought away. The church seems otherwise empty, tranquil and calm, so it's as good a place as any to sort through the situation. ]

But for now... Maybe it's best to just kill some time. It feels as though we're both a bit off today. No thanks to this town, or this soulmate string.

[ She's still going for the soulmates dig, at least. And is that a note of concern in her voice? From Magilou, of all people? It feels almost natural to lace her words to Sierra with a dose of care, whatever natural might be here. ]

[regrede]

Unlucky you, getting a soulmate like me.

[ flirtatious words, without the self-assured flirtatiousness they require behind them—it sounds sadly sincere, deprecating, when she’s missing some core part of the defenses she’s carefully stacked in the last four hundred years. ]

Shall we sit?

[ sierra leads them to one of the pews up front, one that’s been repaired. ]

Maybe some prayer could do us good.

[witchual]

[ What a depressing, pithy statement. So unlike the Sierra Magilou has seen so far, and so much like Magilou herself. Something like understanding, or maybe even empathy, blooms in the empty void where Magilou's feelings are supposed to be, settling right near her mirrored impressions of how Sierra is feeling. ]

Heh. Funny, that's exactly the line I would have given you. I guess misery truly does love company.

[ Equally self-deprecating words in turn, with a hint of her ever-familiar apathy. It's more obvious when she can't muster up a cheery facade to keep her walls from crumbling, the bricks falling bit-by-bit.

She follows Sierra without much hesitation, the string slack between them as she sits on the surprisingly well-made pew. It feels a sin to say anything while sitting here, but Magilou is exactly the sort of person to break the church-sanctioned norms, so once they're seated, she clears her throat and speaks in a quiet voice. ]

I'm surprised you picked this place. You mentioned you weren't a living soul. And all the non-living souls I know are pretty big fans of eschewing regular prayer.

[regrede]

Oh… yes. I don’t have many weaknesses, but a well-placed holy rune could probably do some damage to me, at least in the hands of someone who knows what they’re doing.

[ a meaningful pause, as she glances sidelong to magilou—who is a magician as magical as any, sierra thinks, but in a strange way and perhaps only for now, she trusts magilou with information that she wouldn’t willingly give to anyone else. perhaps tomorrow, she’ll regret it. ]

How many non-living souls do you know?

[witchual]

It depends on how you define living, but I got a reputation for talking to ghosts. Daemons, spirits - some people consider them living, some don't. And none of them that I know really practice what the churches preach.

[ It's the truth, however vague, but since Sierra is offering up sincerity of her own, she might as well return the favor. She feels oddly comfortable here, as though Sierra won't use the information for anything with ill intent. Maybe she will tomorrow, but that's tomorrow's problem. ]

My area of expertise isn't holy magic. [ She waves her hand dismissively. ] To be honest, I don't care enough to learn it and be a threat to you.

[regrede]

[ sierra would take it as kindness if she thought magilou meant it that way in the least. the lack of malice does not a friendship make, but even so, as they sit here, sierra feels… comfortable with her. whether it’s the string around their finger or the atmosphere, or even this strange sincerity in sharing secrets, something is making this meeting feel important. ]

Well, thank you. I…

[ …was going to say something pretty haughty, on impulse, but she finds she’s lacking the motivation. she shakes her head. ]

I must know what is your area of expertise. You’re a confusing one, Magilou.

[witchual]

Curiosity killed the cat, you know.

[ That might be the least of your worries goes unsaid. It's not meant to be a hurtful jab, but a playful one. Talking like this, peacefully and uninterrupted, is something she never does. It's comforting, and even if it's because she can feel that both she and Sierra are more at ease than either of them should be, she can't help but feel a bit more like herself the longer they talk.

There's something here, a connection as literal as it is metaphorical, that makes her feel like talking instead of bluffing wouldn't be the worst idea. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees and linking her hands together in a mockery of a prayer position. She'll regret it tomorrow, no doubt, but... ]

If you're talking about combat, my skills mostly lie in fire and water spells, with healing on the side. But if you're talking about the intangible... spiritual ability isn't something you see every day where I come from.

[regrede]

[ truthfully, sierra has only the kind of reverence that a vampire could for a church. she’s not weak to holiness, as others of her kind are, but she’s nevertheless drawn to the concept of what could hurt her—and, it seems, she has a flair for the dramatic. it’s hard to resist.

all that is to say, she doesn’t mind magilou’s faux prayer. ]

Aha… I have thunder. If we could find ourselves an earth user, we would be quite well-rounded.

[ she swings her legs, her shoes only barely scuffing the floor from her seat on the pew. ]

You must be quite powerful. Spiritually speaking.