November catchall | and every city was a gift

[ruinsprofessor]

Characters: Raine Sage, others!
Date: any November
Location: Keeliai, specifically apartment, Healers' Guild, and others
Situation: a few!
Warnings/Rating: none yet, will update if that changes



A | the usual suspects

Raine can usually be found either in her apartment in Earth sector, usually in the evenings or early afternoons of her few off days, or at the Healers' Guild. She doesn't vary her routine all that much, having relaxed a little from the worries of earlier months.

She's normally happy enough to greet people, though if you go to find her at the Guild she may be in her office and rather engrossed in administrative duties or magical research. Or both, where applicable. She is, however, easily roustable for emergencies.

B | others tba as necessary, inquire to Makari

Comments

[peacefullywreathed]

Something tapped him. Solomon went very still and turned his head. It hadn't been a sharp thing. In fact, it had been rather ... furry. A furry thing? And Ravel's soul was just there, over the table, in fact, but strangely warped--like he'd been funneled through a tub and only part of it was left sticking out.

"Ravel?" he asked again, his head tilted, and put his hand out a little further along the table, until he felt something warm and fluffy under his fingers. His frown deepened. "Are you an animal?"

Good grief; what would the Dead Men think of next?

[edgeoftheknife]

If Erskine could have leveled an unamused glare at Solomon, now would have been the perfect time.

Yes, Wreath, I'm a bloody animal. I'm a rabbit. Now how do you expect me to answer that question, given that I'm an animal?

But he was small and fluffy and adorable, and Wreath wouldn't have seen any such glare anyway. In fact, none of the bunny charades he'd worked out with the others were going to work. This was--all history between them aside--possibly the worst combination of people (or man and animal) that could have been devised.

Great.

He reached out and bopped Wreath's hand again with his paw, the only way he was sure he could communicate with the necromancer at the moment. Not that he knew just what he was communicating, but they could work that out later.

[peacefullywreathed]

He was a fluffy animal. Solomon left his hand where it was, so Erskine could pat it or whatever he was doing, and for the first time actually looked properly at the man's soul. He'd made lists of the ways souls interacted and Ravel's was reaching toward him in a manner that indicated he was, in fact, trying to communicate.

What he was saying? Solomon had no idea. But it probably wasn't complimentary.

Besides, the actual state of his soul was more interesting.

"Were you aware that you look like a balloon full of water, constricted in the middle?" he asked, and then tilted his head. "Or constricted into a quarter to three, as the case may be. It's all still there, just ... moulded differently."

Fascinating.

[edgeoftheknife]

For a moment the bunny just sat there on the tabletop near Wreath's hand, staring up at the man.

Wreath had said that he could see souls. So Erskine's soul had been distorted, not just his physical form? Or was the soul linked inextricably to the physical? To the point where warping one warped the other?

Better question: did it matter? Clearly Wreath was fascinated by the whole thing, but that's what came of talking to a necromancer. Or, well. Having a necromancer talk at him, anyway. Erskine didn't much care what shape his soul was in at the moment unless it would somehow tell them how to get him back to normal. Besides, once again, he couldn't answer Wreath anyway. Not unless he kept bopping Wreath's hand with his paw. Or... or gnawing at the cuff of the man's shirt.

Being small and cute wasn't just good for getting cuddles.

hope this is okay

[peacefullywreathed]

Of course. Ravel, being a bunny, was really in no position to appreciate the fact that Solomon was seeing the manipulation of a soul at work. Not that it was much good for him, really. Solomon took a moment to examine the way it was shaped, as best as he could, before he felt a tug at his sleeve.

And paused.

And reached out, and, with some fumbling, found the scruff of Ravel's bunny neck, and lifted him up.

"For your sake," he said, though he sounded just barely amused, "that had better not have been my sleeve. I suppose you'll be wanting Raine, then."

He turned away from the table and brought the bunny in to cradle it in his arm, and went in search of Raine.