I'd like to creep into the wood And see the bonnets blue, And hear the bluebells ringing loud, I wish I could -- don't you?
t's another day, another month, and another time for people to show up in the well. You'd better go rescue them! Never mind the fact that you woke up with a flower in your hands.
It's probably fine. Don't mind it at all. It's not like it's hard to ignore a little flower.
(At least, not until the effects start to kick in. Better go rescue the people in the well before they do.)
Oh, right. Even the people in the well have flowers, so... things are going to be a little ridiculous very quickly, when all of those side effects kick in. Have fun!
Welcome to Awash's Twenty-fifth 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!
Yeah, yeah, she knows. ] Is that supposed to make me blush?
[ The sun feels warm on her skin, the breeze that follows the canals refreshing. If she closes her eyes, she can imagine this world with its color. The water would ripple, there would be others here, children, adults...
She opens her eyes, clasping her hands in her lap. ]
[ His laughter is light as flower petals drifting in the summer breeze. ]
Trying to make a maiden blush, is that something a gentleman would do? Of course if you're asking, that's a different matter. Well, well... what makes a maiden blush, I wonder? Being told something she wants to hear? Being told anything from a person she wants to hear things from. Hearing secrets spoken aloud that she thought were hidden...
[ He taps his chin, thoughtfully. ]
Whether I'm the person you want to hear things from, that seems unlikely, as we've only just met. For the same reason, I can't guess your secrets. Thus I should simply tell you what you want to hear.
[ He reclines back on the bench, grinning impishly at her. ]
[ He sure can talk... Is he nervous? He usually chatters away when he's excited or nervous. Which, combined with his laughter, is a rather refreshing take than seeing him melancholy and deflated. ] Anything, huh?
[ Anything she'd like to hear from him, specifically. She sees that impish grin, and-- alright, fine, she'll play along. Since he doesn't remember her, she's going to make this difficult. ] Very well, go on and start by telling me how great I am.
[ She waves a hand towards herself, golden eyes shining with challenge. ] If it's not up to expectations, I'm kicking you into the canal.
[ He leaps up from the bench and circles in front of her, with his hands tucked behind his back, and his head tilted to one side. He doesn't stare at her, but simply glances and looks away a few times, before saying: ]
A pretty maiden likes to hear about her looks... but one's who's truly beautiful must inevitably become bored by such remarks, as she hears them so often. In any case, one's looks are a gift from one's parents, and while an exquisite face might represent heaven's fortune, it can't be counted as one of a person's true merits. Thus I won't comment on your looks, stunning though they are.
[ He turns and sits back down on the bench, his robes fluttering about him as he does so. ]
So in order to answer your challenge, and adequately praise you, you must tell me first a bit more about yourself!
[ He must be having a lot of fun, fluttering about like a butterfly. He seems he's about to fly off on his own, even, but then he retakes his seat next to her.
She's already told him through Pyra a lot about herself, and for her to repeat everything would be... ridiculous. And a major mood-killer, probably. ]
Well, to start out with... my name is Mythra. [ She props her arm up upon the back of the bench, adjusting how she sits by crossing one leg over the other without a care for how short her dress is. ]
I'm a fortune-teller by trade. [ Kind of, yes, but also because she can play up what she knows about him here: ] And....
[ He’s having problems with his memory; but that doesn’t make him stupid. He knows it’s abnormal to not remember anything at all; and also reasons that what’s affecting him may not be affecting everyone else.
Therefore, someone knowing his name: either this maiden is, as she says, a fortune-teller, or more likely… ]
You know me.
[ He looks at her, a small smile curving his lips. ]
Haha, I probably couldn’t resist teasing somebody, in similar circumstances!
Aa, you caught me red-handed. [ Her hands lazily lift up in mock defeat. ] Your memory's been dulled, but your mind is still sharp as a blade. Funny, how this latest enchantment works with these flowers.
[ He reacts without thinking to her outstretched hand and her request, cooperatively handing the flowers over. It's only afterwards that he thinks better of it. It's obvious what sort of enchantment his flowers have, erasing memory, so why would she want them? Besides, won't it be a problem if both of them lose their... ]
[ He's been sitting here chatting blithely with her, engaging in all of his usual nonsense, just happily playing without a care in the world, and she—Mythra—has just been indulging him. He opens his mouth to apologize, but shuts it again. Probably the last words she wants to hear from him are, "I'm sorry."
This is Mythra, who'd shut herself away from the world, who'd created Pyra as a seal. Who Pyra had called upon to help her when her heart was hurting. And here she is, outside. Is it because someone or something has made her feel more optimistic? Or is it that she must, because Pyra can't bear to...
[ ...but he's too late. The bouquet, casually tossed, floats down the canal and disappears off to parts unknown. RIP flowers. Well, maybe tossing them away will reverse the enchantment? He turns back to Mythra. ]
Ah.
[ Nope, the enchantment still holds. ]
No, I'm... I'm just a friend.
[ He smiles, weakly. It's a lie but it also isn't; it's what he'd like to be, even now. ]
[ Because why does it feel like she should have friends??
Wait wait, why does she feel in the first place?!
Incredibly perplexed, nose scrunched and brow furrowed, she looks as if he’s just asked her what the meaning of life is— which she doesn’t have an answer for, either. ]
I don’t..... know....
[ ..... ]
What’s going on?
[ Unlike him, with or without flowers.... she is an idiot. ]
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t's another day, another month, and another time for people to show up in the well. You'd better go rescue them! Never mind the fact that you woke up with a flower in your hands.
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Don’t be mean.
Yeah, yeah, she knows. ] Is that supposed to make me blush?
[ The sun feels warm on her skin, the breeze that follows the canals refreshing. If she closes her eyes, she can imagine this world with its color. The water would ripple, there would be others here, children, adults...
She opens her eyes, clasping her hands in her lap. ]
You’re going to have to up your game.
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[ His laughter is light as flower petals drifting in the summer breeze. ]
Trying to make a maiden blush, is that something a gentleman would do? Of course if you're asking, that's a different matter. Well, well... what makes a maiden blush, I wonder? Being told something she wants to hear? Being told anything from a person she wants to hear things from. Hearing secrets spoken aloud that she thought were hidden...
[ He taps his chin, thoughtfully. ]
Whether I'm the person you want to hear things from, that seems unlikely, as we've only just met. For the same reason, I can't guess your secrets. Thus I should simply tell you what you want to hear.
[ He reclines back on the bench, grinning impishly at her. ]
So—tell me what you want to hear!
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[ Anything she'd like to hear from him, specifically. She sees that impish grin, and-- alright, fine, she'll play along. Since he doesn't remember her, she's going to make this difficult. ] Very well, go on and start by telling me how great I am.
[ She waves a hand towards herself, golden eyes shining with challenge. ] If it's not up to expectations, I'm kicking you into the canal.
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[ He throws his head back and laughs. ]
Okay! Challenge accepted!
[ He leaps up from the bench and circles in front of her, with his hands tucked behind his back, and his head tilted to one side. He doesn't stare at her, but simply glances and looks away a few times, before saying: ]
A pretty maiden likes to hear about her looks... but one's who's truly beautiful must inevitably become bored by such remarks, as she hears them so often. In any case, one's looks are a gift from one's parents, and while an exquisite face might represent heaven's fortune, it can't be counted as one of a person's true merits. Thus I won't comment on your looks, stunning though they are.
[ He turns and sits back down on the bench, his robes fluttering about him as he does so. ]
So in order to answer your challenge, and adequately praise you, you must tell me first a bit more about yourself!
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She's already told him through Pyra a lot about herself, and for her to repeat everything would be... ridiculous. And a major mood-killer, probably. ]
Well, to start out with... my name is Mythra. [ She props her arm up upon the back of the bench, adjusting how she sits by crossing one leg over the other without a care for how short her dress is. ]
I'm a fortune-teller by trade. [ Kind of, yes, but also because she can play up what she knows about him here: ] And....
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Pretty neat, huh?
[ She most certainly did not get his name by her actual foresight abilities, but details. ]
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Therefore, someone knowing his name: either this maiden is, as she says, a fortune-teller, or more likely… ]
You know me.
[ He looks at her, a small smile curving his lips. ]
Haha, I probably couldn’t resist teasing somebody, in similar circumstances!
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[ Or not funny at all, in other cases. ]
Give 'em here, let's see what you got.
1/3
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This is Mythra, who'd shut herself away from the world, who'd created Pyra as a seal. Who Pyra had called upon to help her when her heart was hurting. And here she is, outside. Is it because someone or something has made her feel more optimistic? Or is it that she must, because Pyra can't bear to...
In the end, all he can say is: ]
How are you, Maiden Mythra?
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She stands.
Wait, why is she a person. Why does she have a body.
She looks down at the flowers in her hand.
Why is she holding them.
She tosses them into the canal.
Who is this guy. How does he know her name.
He asks how she is. She responds neutrally, ] Were you the one who took me from Father?
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A-aaah!
[ ...but he's too late. The bouquet, casually tossed, floats down the canal and disappears off to parts unknown. RIP flowers. Well, maybe tossing them away will reverse the enchantment? He turns back to Mythra. ]
Ah.
[ Nope, the enchantment still holds. ]
No, I'm... I'm just a friend.
[ He smiles, weakly. It's a lie but it also isn't; it's what he'd like to be, even now. ]
1/3
But then-- ]
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That's-- That's ridiculous. I don't do friends.
1/2
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Why not? What's wrong with having friends?
1/4
[ Hrrrrg she looks uncomfortable. ]
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Wait wait, why does she feel in the first place?!
Incredibly perplexed, nose scrunched and brow furrowed, she looks as if he’s just asked her what the meaning of life is— which she doesn’t have an answer for, either. ]
I don’t..... know....
[ ..... ]
What’s going on?
[ Unlike him, with or without flowers.... she is an idiot. ]
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Whether you "do" friends or not, you have them.
[ He tucks his hands behind his back and drifts forwards, peering over into the canal. ]
This is a magical world and you're under an enchantment, that's taken away your memory. We have to figure out a way to break it.
1/3
He keeps on saying it! The "F" word!! ]
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Thanks, but I'm good.
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