Open RP Post

[andfire]

Open RP Post

♦ All characters are allowed to interact, regardless of being in a game with Elsa or not.
♠ This is an IC-spam post; only character journals, please.
♥ Doubles and threadjacking are allowed for maximum derp.
♣ 4th-walling: is allowed; Elsa can take it. She will likely just think you're crazy.
♦ Wank and OOC matters will be deleted.
♠ Crit will be redirected to the HMD

♠♥♣♦

This post has no established setting, to allow for any sort of thread. Voicetesting, smut, derp, violence, angst, crack, memes, any other shenanigans I might be missing are acceptable.

Also backtagging.

Lots of backtagging.

♠♥♣♦

Comments

if you breathe in, then i breathe in and slowly let go

[andfire]

[It starts with a party.

More specifically, a ball, but that is neither here nor there. Ariel is a city full of people from unimaginable walks of life, so it is something of a relief to be able to engage with someone who comes from a seemingly similar background as herself. Hans of the Southern Isles makes no secret of that when he talks about growing up in a castle with twelve older brothers.

Twelve. Elsa isn't even sure if her father had employed that many servants.

There is a little bit of wine, enough to just faintly tickle the nose, and a lot more talking. There is a lot of watching people as they arrive, and dance, and eat, and drink, and dance some more, only to cart off in pairs (and sometimes in threes and fours and groups of more...) There isn't any dancing, at least not on Elsa's part -- even here, without the thrum of her magic in her fingertips, she does not feel very confident in herself to approach anyone long enough to initiate anything like that -- but she is more than content to watch and even giggle faintly (albeit behind an apologetic glance) when a drunken girl cuts in on their conversation to drag Hans out into the floor for a dance.

And toward the end of it all, even if she had kept to herself the whole night, she finds herself feeling strangely comfortable and content.

It's Hans who insists on escorting her back to her apartment at the ball's conclusion. But, as pragmatic and practical as she is, it's Elsa who invites him inside with the insistence of a cup of tea. The invitation comes as only a slight surprise to herself -- she's never invited anyone inside her apartment before -- but she still finds herself mildly insistent on it.

And here they are now in her kitchen, still (fully) dressed in their good clothing, and halfway through their respective mugs of tea. Elsa finds herself thinking of the ball. She finds herself thinking of the people, and how they danced -- some within very close proximity! -- and the way that they touched, and wanted to touch, and wanted to be touched. She thinks of how her fingers don't hum and tingle with magic, and she thinks of what it would be like to touch as well.

So she does.

Elsa has kept to herself the entire night, hardly even moving to extend a hand even in greeting, but she waits until she is in the middle of saying something (whatever it is, it's unimportant) before lowering her tea and reaching out to very delicately trace her fingertips along the lengths of his fingers curled around his own mug. It's hard to not feel the small blossom of panic in her heart when she does, hard to not feel like maybe she was wrong about not having her magic, and so for a split second she almost takes her hand back.

But his hand is warm. Undoubtedly, it is because of the tea, but it is really, really warm.

If there's a way to describe the look on her face as she watches her hand curl around his, it's almost enraptured.]

I'm sorry... [She starts very slowly, eyes not leaving her hand as it rests over his. Her thumb brushes along the back of his hand in a faint and reverent sort of way.

(So warm.)]

I forgot to ask if you even liked tea.

[It's horribly rude to ask a question and not meet his gaze, but she's rather taken with how her hand fits over his, and it's hard to look away from it.]

any prose is fine i just started with 3rd person

[handsomefoil]

The first chill he felt on a perfectly sunny day (or rather, a day that was programmed to appear and feel sunny) took him by surprise. It was a gradual one, but he noticed thick snow falling heavily in his area and found it strange. Monad, strange? News at 11. He shrugged it off as a glitch and went on his way, not even realizing a certain wary and upset someone was nearby. His own mind and senses were occupied by what had happened not too long ago and didn't notice her there.

The next couple of times were more obvious. He saw her first before the sudden onslaught of ice and snow cut at his face alongside fierce winds which calmed to a brisk breeze after a few seconds. He didn't relate the weather to her at first, but he didn't question it, only because he knew nothing of her abilities. His eyes went to the ground, a hint of a shame rose to his cheeks in a faint red tint. It was rare for him to feel this way, but he knew it was what he deserved after such an abysmal mistake. He didn't know... and he couldn't convey that emotion to her because he didn't deserve it. He felt terrible for the first time in a long time. It was tempting to walk away, to avoid her completely, but he felt taking the punishment was the least he could do. There were no exchanges of words or even any eye contact. He'd remained where he was until the blizzard stopped or she walked away.

After a while of not seeing her around for a while, Henry found himself drinking again. Not in his room, of course, that place was a real buzz kill, but in the business district right in front of the movie theater sitting at a table that belonged to the neighboring restaurant. There was nobody around today. There were no places to go and have a drink, so he brought one of gin bottles with him. This one was full, after deciding that carrying two half-full bottles of gin was too cumbersome, he'd simply refilled one bottle with another. Next to the bottle of gin was a bottle of seltzer water and a couple of limes. A lot of drinks involving gin had lots of sugar in them, but he didn't like his drinks sweet.

Every now and then he swore felt a little chill, and his mind went back to Elsa. It wasn't so much that he felt terrible about it, but on top of that, he couldn't help but recall the emotions he'd gone through during that time he thought she was Sylvia. It also didn't help that she was also a blonde and beautiful, just like Sylvia. Two extreme opposites, yet that common ground made it hard for him to deny that there was an attraction there. It's no surprise to anyone that knew him well that he enjoyed the violence and that day had been no different, but there's a queasiness in his gut for enjoying it and feeling pity for her at the same time. His plan wasn't to get drunk off his ass, but he needed the haze.

He contemplated getting in contact with her somehow, but he wasn't sure how to go about exactly without arousing any suspicions from unrelated parties. Definitely couldn't do that over the network, but that was the only method he knew of that didn't involve knocking at each apartment, door-to-door. When he saw her again next- at least, he'd let her decide first if she even wanted anything to do with him.

the spaces in between two minds and all the places they have been

[andfire]

There comes a point when waking upon the discovery of a new glitch is commonplace. Sometimes, it is really easy to miss them -- not realizing your hair has been changed to a different color, perhaps, or that you haven't spoken to anyone above a whisper all day. Other times, they are impossible to ignore. This is one of those other times.

It starts with waking up to a red silk ribbon tied to the left wrist. One that, no matter how many times it is untied, still finds its way back to the wrist in a perfect bow. The ribbon itself is innocuous enough, easy to ignore -- until there's the magnetic sort of pull on said ribbon, and thus on the wrist it is on. The pull itself, at first, is just as easy as the ribbon to ignore. But as the morning turns to afternoon, turns to dusk, it gets stronger and stronger until you cannot even lower your arm -- and you must follow where the pull is taking you.

So an invisible force has been tugging insistently on her hand on the better part of an afternoon. She had been content to ignore it for most of the day, but towards the evening she finds it's impossible to even sit down with a book before she's finding herself at the door of her apartment.

So she follows it. Quietly, through the halls of the apartment complexes, until it takes her to Souji's door. Distantly, she recognizes that something isn't entirely right. She's nervous, though she isn't entirely sure why.

Thankfully, he won't see her pacing in front of his door a few times before she gives a faint knock on it.