tushanshu_logs | [EVENT | 4TH WALL] FIX IT FORTUITY

Entry tags:

[EVENT | 4TH WALL] FIX IT FORTUITY | Feb 18-Mar 11

Characters: Everyone and anyone, including our visitors
Date: Feb 18, 2018-March 11, 2018
Location: This log can be used for anywhere to do with the fourth-wall event.
Situation: Many and various. There are a few starters in the comments below, or create your own!
Warnings/Rating: Please add warnings in subject headers as needed.

This year there's no sudden explosion to mark the influx of people. The weather is still faintly snowy, crisp and chill, and though there are days when the sun breaks through the clouds it doesn't do much to make things genuinely warmer.

Much like light slipping between the clouds, other Foreigners start slipping into the city, here and there. By this time the kedan and the anchored Foreigners know more than well enough what a Foreigner with no soul gem means, and by the time the third drifter has shown up it's considered sign enough for enthusiastic miniature pop-up markets to spring up where the snow is melting away, much like flowers.

Cheerful, profit-seeking flowers.

All the same, with the recent collaborations between Foreigners and kedan, the kedan are much more willing to look kindly on the newcomers-- at least so long as they don't cause too much trouble.

There's some speculation about what might be causing it -- the phenomenon comes earlier than it has before, not quite into spring yet -- but once objects start appearing and disappearing, it's safe to say the Dreaming can be blamed. As unpredictable as the Dreaming can be, this makes more than a few people relax-- at least it's a known unpredictability. The items that vanish are always of personal value, regardless of monetary worth, and they usually reappear later. And some items simply appear. Whether or not they'll stay forever remains to be seen, but it's always things with some emotional attachment, often which were on the mind or in conversation recently.

And often, the feeling of being watched, or that you've seen this thing before, no matter if it's impossible.

---

Welcome to Tu Shanshu's third 4th wall event! Please see the OOC information write up for details about the current state of the city, the visiting 4th wall guests, and other information you'll need to know, as well as the check in comment to add new characters to the event.

If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to contact the mods on the OOC post, or by PMing this mod account.

Enjoy!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The last thing Solomon remembers is, essentially, falling into Raine's arms. When he next remembers anything, he continues falling.

Straight into a canal.

Fortunately, not one he can't stand in. Even still, it's an exceedingly grumpy and blind necromancer who gropes his way along the edge of the canal, trying to find a place to pull himself up without crashing into anything. In the end he decides not to bother with the indignity, and in a lift of his palms creates a set of stairs he can walk up.

That still leaves him coatless, his shirt and waistcoat and trousers clinging, and shoes extraordinary wet, and approaching a level of cold he can't quite feel -- particularly with past historical issues with temperature.

And stuck in the middle of a sector he doesn't realise has changed at all until he walks into a construction site to rebuild a house.

A stream of impolite Irish ensues.

Maybe it's because Zelos has had blindness on his mind recently (thanks, Kratos, thanks a lot), but when he sees the sopping wet dark-haired guy walk right into a standing support beam just inside a construction site, his first thought is that the guy's got to be blind not to have noticed it.

It makes him more sympathetic than he would be, even knowing he's probably wrong. There are tons of reasons someone would walk right into something, and none of them have to do with being blind. Some of them just have to do with being an idiot.

Still, sympathy's sympathy, so Zelos changes course and comes to a stop nearby. "Heeeeey," he starts off, arms folded and leaning casually against the standing support beam in question. "Can't help but notice you're having some trouble there. Need a hand?"

Solomon has found the support beam, at least, but when he puts out his hands he doesn't feel anything connecting. He does, however, find a soft sleeve belonging to the man who'd come over to heckle.

"A pair of eyes would be better," he replies acerbically, resisting the urge to rub his head where he'd hit the beam. "I know I'm in Water Sector; the smell's enough for that. Which exceptional example of good sense put a construction site in the road? I would have thought the Metalworkers knew better, but God only knows who's got up their nose this time."

He knows it's blocking at least part of the road, because there used to be a road there. He got to know this city extremely well without his shadows, for good reason. This should not be blocked off. How long was he gone?

Oh, so he's actually blind. Good. Then that was sympathy well-placed. It's still kind of a horrifying glimpse into Zelos's near future, but he'll happily blame Kratos for that.

"Uh..." Zelos glances around. "Are you talking about this site? It's been here for months. Man, I hope you didn't hit your head."

Mostly because it would then be Zelos's responsibility to go find Raine, and that would be a whole day gone down the drain. He really is sympathetic, though, hard as that might be to discern, and so he pushes himself off the beam scarcely a second later. "Sure, I can try being a pair of eyes. Where are you headed? I got to warn you, I don't know where most streets are yet, but you sound like you do."

"Months," Solomon repeats flatly. His gut, meanwhile, twists. Months. He'd been gone longer than he'd been married. His thumb instinctively moves to turn the ring on his finger, reassuring himself that it's still there, just as it should be; it's shaped in a circle of sage leaves.

Then he pauses. He has that ring -- but he should be wearing two rings. Except that he isn't. He moves to check the pockets of his waistcoat, but they're empty.

"Back to the canal," he says grimly, turning. "My soul-gem is a ring, and I don't have it. I might have dropped it."

Or he'd been brought back without it. And there's only one reason for that. He sets off at a brisk pace, retracing his steps nearly exactly and with self-assurance that, at least, there's nothing in his way in this direction.

Edited (tenses) 2017-02-25 06:02 (UTC)

"Yup," Zelos answers. "Months." Then, remembering the problem some Foreigners have with vanishing for long swathes of time every now and then, he sobers. "Sorry."

At least he knows the man's a Foreigner now. It's getting easier to tell with a glance when someone's a kedan and when they're not, but having solid confirmation is nice.

After a startled beat, Zelos rushes to catch up with the Foreigner on his return trip to the canal, matching pace when he comes up alongside. "Are you sure you need a pair of eyes?" he asks, impressed despite himself. "Ignoring when you got soaked, obviously. Does that take practice, or is it some kind of magic?"

And, more importantly, can Zelos learn it before he goes blind himself? Maybe this is a serendipitous meeting. He's not too worried about the missing soul-gem; it probably slipped off in the water. They'll find it.

"Practice," Solomon answers promptly, "though I do, of course, have magic. The kedan aren't particularly fond of my kind, however, and there have been times in the city where Foreigners have lost all their abilities, so it's unwise to rely on that too much."

Though now the man mentions it, Solomon can feel a difference in the deathliness of the city. Something of an upsurge; hm. Perhaps the construction is for good reason. "What happened here lately, for construction to be going on in the middle of roads?"

The last is sardonic. What he isn't saying: for there to have been a death toll.

Practice. Damn it. Practice means time, and Zelos probably doesn't have a lot of time left. Oh well; asking was worth a try.

"Some kind of massive storm," he answers, "but I don't know the details. I wasn't here yet. All I know is it totaled nearly half the city, and a lot of people were running around like chickens with their heads cut off even after I arrived. You mean losing magical abilities? How often does that happen?"

What would happen to angels, in particular? Zelos should probably let Kratos know about the possibility.

"On entry," Solomon answers absently, lifting his chin to smell the air. The scent of water's getting closer, and the steps he's counted means the canal's nearby. "Then there was the time Malicant wreaked havoc with everyone's powers. That was the most explosive time. The Dreaming makes it easy to manipulate people's souls and power, however, so you may as well be prepared for eventualities."

He stops, exactly on the edge of the canal and exactly on the number of steps he'd originally taken to reach the construction site. The edge of the canal is wet, as though someone had pulled themselves out of it not all that long ago.

Hm. Now how to find his ring. Magic is probably the best bet, but if it's not necessarily to make himself colder than he already is ... Solomon glances sideways. "Are those hands and eyes of yours still on offer?"

Not that often, if Zelos is understanding him right. It sounds like it's more about being better safe than sorry. Sound advice, and he'll take it, but preparation is scores better than damage control.

"Of course," Zelos answers. "I didn't come walking all this way with you for my health. My hands and eyes are always on offer." He squats down by the canal, right next to where it's pretty obvious someone dragged themselves out. "It's just that people usually take me up on it in much more interesting ways than this. So what's your ring look like?"

He can't immediately see anything, but the canals aren't exactly pristine. Maybe he'll have to dive to the bottom.

"I'm probably too old for you," Solomon answers blithely, rubbing his hands together and frowning down at them. He absolutely isn't shivering, is he? Raine's going to yell, probably. Or drag him into bed. Solomon knows which one he prefers.

"It's heavy," he says, moving from hands to rubbing his arms in an effort to stave off the chill he can't really feel. "Green gemstone, silver setting; quite large." Occasionally, quite a nuisance, but he'd gotten used to it, and those times when it was too annoying it was easy enough to keep in his waistcoat pocket.

"What?" Zelos looks at the blind man, bemused. "You can't be too much older than me. I'd guess... what, twenty-eight, twenty-nine?" Unless you've over four thousand years old, sir, Zelos has been accused of worse.

Aw, man. He really doesn't want to go swimming in the frigid canal water. Zelos stares blandly down at it, then sighs. With any luck he's already losing feeling in his limbs and it won't be that bad. "Okay," he says. "Just give me a minute." He kneels down and flattens himself against the ground right by the water's edge, takes a deep breath, and dunks his face in.

Oh, he's not losing feeling. Zelos is so not losing feeling. Frigid canal water in the middle of winter is exactly as fun as he thought it was going to be. He splutters, forces his eyes open, scans the bed of the canal as quickly as he can for a glint of green, then withdraws with a shuddering gasp.

"It's freezing," he complains when he's got his breath back. "How did you stand it? How are you still standing it? We're getting you dry clothes when we're done here. Fortunately for you, I know a guy."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Solomon answers with dry amusement. Not that he can talk, really; if the young man isn't much younger than that, then he's probably about Raine's age. That had been a somewhat unwelcome surprise, when Solomon had found out. (Not a deal-breaker. But an unwelcome surprise.)

It is, Solomon decides, both frustrating and amusing beyond measure, listening to someone dip into freezing water, even partially. He rubs his hands together again. Still not shivering, and he's starting to be consciously aware of magic threading through him to compensate for that state of awful cold.

"I'm not," Solomon says absently. "I'm fairly sure I've gone into hypothermia, actually. I should really be getting to the Healer's Guild. Raine's going to be extremely disappointed in me."

This last is murmured, but instead of being resigned as the words suggest, the idea makes his mouth curl up. He'd been gone. Now he's back. He can handle some of Raine's disappointment in his inability to take care of himself properly, if it's going to be compensated by joy. But: first things first.

"Did you find it?"

There are a lot of things Zelos hears, both before and after his dunk into the freezing canal water, that he doesn't like. Enough that, by the time he gets back to his feet, he's not smiling anymore.

"Nope," he says with a shake of his head. "There's nothing down there but trash and canal gunk." Which is green -- sort of -- but not the kind of green that means good things.

Damn, the guy's not even shivering. He doesn't look much like an angel, but then, neither did any other angel Zelos has ever met. Except for Yggdrasill. Which is why, when Zelos next speaks, he sounds more suspicious than he did just moments ago. "You think Raine would remember you? She sees a lot of people, and you've been gone for months."

Not there. Not that Solomon, in all honesty, expected any difference; because have things ever been that easy? Still. It would have been nice. Solomon exhales, an act more to orient himself than anything else; but his breath doesn't fog, despite the temperature.

He'll have to shadow-walk. Ordinarily he'd walk it for the exertion -- but at this point he needs to get there fast.

"I would hope so," he says lightly, unfolding his arms to put out his hand toward the firelight-like movement of this man's soul. His fingers touch shoulder. Excellent. "I'm her husband. Brace yourself."

With barely that warning he brings the shadows up to take them to the Guild. The shadows are warmer than he feels; it's a bad thing, when his shadows feel warm. (But to the stranger, they'll feel cold, sharp like a crisp breeze in winter.)

"Her husband -- !?"

Which is about as far as Zelos gets before a swirl of freezing shadow blocks the whole world out. He's no stranger to teleportation, but his suspicion combined with the brief warning instinctively make him try to pull away in the middle of it. It doesn't work, and that's probably a good thing. The shadows and the sharp sense of cold both fall away to reveal the Guild -- or, more specifically, an inner courtyard of the Guild. Only then can Zelos pull away, and he does, pushing wet strands of hair behind his ears. Great. Now his face is freezing.

"You're Raine's husband?" Zelos's suspicion doesn't vanish, but it's temporarily outvoted by delight. "Man, she's going to be happy to see you! She mentioned you disappeared a while back." Some of the delight fades all too quickly. "But wait -- you don't have your soul gem? What does that mean?"

Well. That's certainly a switch from the suspicion the man had just been showing. What, Solomon wonders, is this man to Raine? He hasn't gotten a name, yet. Not that he usually cares overly much. Either way, the courtyard is far more familiar than the under-construction streets, and Solomon releases his grip on the man to stride toward the arch he knows leads into the Guild.

"It means that within two weeks or so, I'm going to be gone again, so you understand I'd rather not wait to find her. How do you know Raine?" That had sounded just a touch too familiar to simply have known Raine in the interim, although Solomon has to acknowledge a good part of that is grudging denial at how long he's been gone.

"Two weeks?" A memory tugs at the back of Zelos's mind; Raine mentioned that, back when they first met in the cafe near the Welcome Center. A wave of Foreigners, she said, dropped here by the Dreaming every so often and, in a matter of weeks, snatched away again.

"Huh." The sympathy in Zelos's voice is genuine. "You can do a lot in two weeks, but most of it's worth doing a second time. That sucks."

Poor Raine. This probably isn't what she had in mind when she said her husband would come back someday.

Zelos follows after into the Guild, sparing the confident and unworried stride a single interested glance. "Well, Mr Sage," he says, "we're from the same world. She's one of my hunnies." A beat. "That is, up until she met you. I wasn't around for that. Tell me, was it love at first sight? Did she swoon and fall into your arms?"

'Most of it's worth doing a second time.' The first flirtation Solomon had let pass, but inside of ten seconds this man has already reminded him sharply of someone he'd prefer not to meet again. Not because there was an issue between them, precisely, but because Rover Larrikin was an obnoxious twit. At least this man was a helpful obnoxious twit.

'Mr Sage' is of far more note and worth, and Solomon spares an amused sideways glance, even though it hardly arrests his intent. "Raine, swoon? Are you sure we know the same woman?" He rather doubts she swooned for this man, either. "We were research partners. And still are."

Even though he's not, technically, back. Solomon hopes that she's in her office. His magic is cycling far more consistently now, in the way it does when it's objecting to him dying. Or approaching dying.

Research partners. Leave it to Professor Raine to make something so raw and passionate sound so clinical and boring. Zelos gives Mr Sage a wry look, then glances up at the ceiling with a sigh as they walk. "I'm sure one day there'll be something she swoons over besides old ruins. You might not be too far off the mark, though. How old are you?"

Appearances can be deceiving, right? It's a good thing Zelos worked through all his awe at long lifespans when he was still a kid, or this conversation might be going a lot differently.

"I didn't say she doesn't swoon," Solomon says primly. "She just didn't swoon at first sight. I like to think I have significantly more substance than that. Four centuries does not mean ruined, thank you very much."

He's counting his steps as they walk, and if his pace is a touch faster than usual, well, he has cause. By his count, Raine's office is just around this corner.

Raine is fairly attuned to shadows these days, even with Solomon seven months gone, and so the sudden movement of dark mana in the general vicinity gets her attention quickly.

It's strange. And they're in the middle of another influx of Foreigners, she reminds herself. It wouldn't do to get her hopes too far up. Any of them might have shadow magic.

But she gets up from her desk, and she paces a little bit to shake the sudden warmth of hope down to a reasonable, manageable level, and on her third or fourth turn she is fairly sure she feels something like Solomon's mana signature. It is not something easily forgotten, when she has slept next to him for years.

Raine pulls the door to her office open and darts out into the hall, heart jumping. There are voices just around the corner. She ignores dignity -- she'll be able to see soon enough -- and yes.

There's Zelos. There, with him, is Solomon.

She doesn't have the wherewithal for words. Raine takes a few running steps more and flings herself at Solomon, looping her arms around his neck and pressing her face against his shoulder. He's here. ...He's soaked. And freezing.

If he doesn't remember her she's going to be very embarrassed in about two seconds. "Did you fall into a canal," she demands without moving, muffled, aggrieved for his chill.

"Four centuries?" says Zelos. "Is that all? You're practically a --"

-- spring chicken.

He doesn't get the chance to say it, because Raine is very suddenly there, and very suddenly taking up Mr Sage's full attention. And she's excited. She's openly, unabashedly excited. Zelos hasn't seen her excited very often. He can understand that, what with her being Lloyd's teacher and how badly Lloyd sometimes needs a voice of reason, but no one can be that straight-laced without letting loose every now and again.

Zelos leans back against the wall, arms folded, watching with a smile on his face. "I brought you a present," he says. "It's a little bedraggled, but still perfectly serviceable."

Edited (word choice) 2017-03-05 08:19 (UTC)

What he practically is, Solomon doesn't hear. What he does hear is Raine's footsteps, faster than usual but entirely familiar; and what he sees is that familiar balance of a soulful alloy, a sense of combinations that shouldn't be, and yet. He opens his arms and pulls Raine close, exhaling at the feel of her.

"You're warm," he murmurs in her ear, wrapping his arms around her. "As a matter of fact, I did. One moment I was in my laboratory and the next, I was in a canal. I'm fairly sure I need some urgent care for this hypothermia, but after that, I'm at your disposal for aforementioned services."

But he doesn't move from holding her, almost an unconscious cling. She's so warm.

Hypothermia. Of course. Raine breathes out against his neck, an aggrieved huff of an exhalation, and her hand curls soft over his nape with an easy, almost possessive familiarity. As though he'd never left.

...He's far too cold, even if she'd happily hold him much longer. Reluctantly, Raine pulls back, looking Solomon over with pursed lips. Exceptionally soaked, and the damp clothes will be trapping the chill. He's not even shivering.

"Thank you, Zelos," she says with some dignity. "This is the most thoughtful present you could have given me. If you'll excuse me, however, I need to get him out of these clothes before he suffers permanent damage from hypothermia."

[EVENT | 4TH WALL] FIX IT FORTUITY | Feb 18-Mar 11

WATER SECTOR; closed to Zelos and Raine;

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