ππππππππ: lake vernon, dell rapids
ππππ: 13/06/19
ππππππ: closed for @ehcraβ
Β Β Β truth to be told, caspian has been missing the ocean more than he is ready to admit. he only let himself turn into his syren form a couple of times since he has set foot on land two months ago, and he has been actively trying to avoid it since. of course, going back to the ocean is a choice he doesn't have, not anymore β and caspian convinces himself that he doesn't mind it, that the land has much more to offer than the ocean to him. it's not like he misses the kingdom and all the evils it holds; no β it's just a deep sadness inside his heart, homesickness that arises from living more than half a century down there as opposed to the surface. it will heal, that much he tries to believe, that this is something he can condition himself to forget.
Β Β then again, there are times when it comes too much, when his skin is too dry and itching, the yearning to swim gets stronger, his legs ache even though he just woke up β and this time, when water is so near, caspian can't stop himself from taking the short trip down to lake vernon. it's not necessarily because he wants to keep his identity disclosed; he knows there are a lot of syrens around the area, and that he can swim safely when he wants to as long as he is careful. it is simply a lake, nothing compared to the ocean. however, what bothers him is the fear that he might not be able to do this ever again when he becomes surface bound. now that, shakes him to the core.
Β Β Β determined to let it go, even for a couple of hours, he sets foot near the lake, looking around and finding it deserted save for a bag near the water. it puts him on alert immediately, eyes looking around to see if it is a human β or just a syren taking a swim as well. it's just then that a tail glimmers under the lake, breaking the surface as it shines under the sunlight. the colors are utterly familiar and so unique that cas is frozen as he stands there. "no, it can't be β" he gasps out loud, haphazardly taking off what he has on to jump into the lake. when he has swum a few laps, he reaches the other syren β hands shaking as he leans forward to touch, to see his face. "is it β can it really be you?"
itβs just late. theyβre getting closer and closer to curfew, and it isnβt as if garrettβs job entirely stops when curfew does. heβs half-betting he wonβt be able to make it home before curfew starts, and then someoneβll be out after curfew, and his job will extend further and further. home is just across deadwood from the department, but that can seem like a distance that cannot be crossed when it comes to how constant the work is. it never ends. time marches on and the minutes slip somewhere where he canβt get them back.
he doesnβt recognize this kid. he seems young, and garrettβs tired, so maybe, as long as heβs polite, he wonβt press the issue with the ticket. either way, he notes make and model again anyway.
βseventy in a forty-five zone,β garrett says idly. βwhich is usually about a hundred and fifty dollars to the state of south dakota. give or take a bit.β the kid doesnβt seem to be scrambling to hide anything. no arm in an awkward position. and he seems apologetic about it. that bodes well. βlook, i need to see your license, registration, insurance. the works.β the key is that he doesnβt really issue tickets to first time offenders, especially when theyβre new in town. some of deadwoodβs signs are poorly maintained.
some officers go dead quiet while waiting for the driver to get out all the paperwork. garrettβs watching, of course, with the paranoia of someone whoβs been doing this for long enough to note some off motions, but he also doesnβt want to ice the guy out. βnot from here, yeah? whereβre you from then? i donβt think iβve seen you around town before. or at least i havenβt seen this car.β he raps his knuckles gently against the windowframe,
Β Β Β the syren has the decency to look sheepish, listening intently, head tilted down slightly with his lips pursed. to be frank, he barely got his license, since driving under the water wasnβt something he could do in the first place. and when he came to the surface, it hadnβt taken long for him to realize it wasnβt easy to do things on foot β so, with his botched up credentials and fake ids, he managed to get a license a few weeks ago. as such, he isnβt a good driver in the first place β and not wanting to get into further trouble ( or get more questionsΒ ), he is on his best behavior.Β
Β Β Β βiβm terribly sorry i β hadnβt noticed.β caspian repeats, nodding as the man asks for his documents. he has been warned about this before, that he needs to carry those documents all the time, besides the identification cards in his wallet at all times. human etiquette is... different from what heβs used to, but he can see the need for it easily. a nod follows as a response as he leans to the side to open the glovebox. there is a file that contains all the necessary documents, hopefully so β since the rental office had assured him he wouldnβt need anything else.Β
Β Β Β once he fishes that out, he holds it out from the opened window; end of his lips upturned in a polite smile. the question doesnβt surprise him the slightest, but a part of himself wants to grin at the reply. and he would, after all, if it was any other situation.Β βiβm from overseas, actually... iceland.β itβs not completely a lie, it is very close to nehallennia, then again, it would be a huge stretch to call it the truth.
Β Β Β Β βitβs a rental car. iβm planning on staying for a while but β didnβt want to make a commitment just yet.β he points out with a small nod, one hand going up to his hair to push it back into its place.Β βi hope everything is there, and my passport is...β the syren digs through his backpack as he speaks, taking it out to hand it as well.Β β...Β here.β
ππππππππ: metronome, dell rapids
ππππ: 02/06/19
ππππππ: closed for @parliansyren
Β Β Β it's been a while since caspian has settled down in sidors lodge β it took a week deciding, but it wasn't a difficult decision in the end. as it unfolded to be the perfect spot for syrens; the other residents clearly knew what they were doing. after all, it is both near the lake, and not too far from the city either. private, but not remote enough that it's a hassle. and although the syren has a complicated relationship with water lately, reluctant to change into his own true form but yearning to do it all the same; it is a relief to know he can visit the lake and let his other form unravel. what he hasn't done much in dell rapids is visit the city centre itself, and now that he has a day off from work, it's what he decides to do.
Β Β Β after a cup of coffee, and a stroll around the area, it's almost second nature that he gets pulled towards the music shop. it's not the very first time he has seen it β but the first instance he finally has time in his hands to visit the store. he is almost giddy when he steps foot inside the place, wanting to pick up a few cds ( or maybe a few more ) to test out some human music. it has such wide genres when it comes to it, the pure endless nature of it leaves caspian breathless, eager to listen to more and get inspired more for his own work.
Β Β at first, he doesn't pay attention if there might be any employees around, instantly pulled towards an aisle with shiny vinyl covers littering its racks. it's when he is walking through the aisles with a couple of cds in his hands that he sees a familiar figure β one that he isn't expecting to see in the slightest. "gatsby ?" it leaves his mouth in a gasp, eyes widening as his feet take him to the other syren immediately. once he has the other's attention, a wide smile spreads across his lips. there are a lot of syrens he could have met β many he would not want to see. but it is gatsby instead, and the syren is genuinely glad to have found him there, it feels like too much of a coincidence. he fights the urge to pull him in an embrace before he speaks. "i can't believe you are here too β what are the odds."
Β Β Β HOME doesnβt lie under the shadowy waters, no matter how much you want it to be. it might be true that all you have known is there in that kingdom you prayed that would be your home β on those patches of sand with nothing with bones under them. and even though you have cried in front of those two tombstones which should hold some part of who you need to be; the answer does not lie within them. the truth is bitter, but you donβt know your parents, and your parents donβt know you. the answer does not lie within you either. you had hoped it would, when you were finally knighted, when people were proud of you for the first time in your entire life, talking about you, looking up at you. you chest puffed in glory, grip tight on your sword, you could take the whole world in a fight. but sometimes, stories arenβt true. and most of the time, your dreams to be a hero are just that. dreams that wonβt come true. there are two signs of every coin, and when you see the other side of reality, the taste in your mouth is so bitter that you wonβt know anything else. this isnβt your home. it canβt be. you have to find your own home. and when you finally become the person you want to be, you will have to create your own home from nothing. only then, you can belong.
Β Β Β ONE. lying in finest silks and given attention like you are one of the royals, you are sure this is where you belong. you should be one of those kids playing and running through the palace corridors, jabbing each other with their lineage, grinning when one of them is superior. this is what you are born into, even though you have no one to call mother of father ( uncle dorian gets irrationally upset when you call him dad ) β even so, you must be one of THEM. you arenβt ? then who are you ? why is it so hard to find who you are among so many people proud of their surname ?
Β Β TWO. then, when you are lost and angry, the stories you desire are given to you on a silver platter.Β βi have told you about them before, donβt you remember, silly child? your parents are heroes, and you will be like them one day.β the image is clear in your mind after being recounted too many times. ceto and gaspar moon, swimming through the seas, the trees, with a sword and a shield, fighting foreign enemies with such vigor that you WANT to be like them. you are barely a teen, but when you are told thatβs where your story lies, that you will be put into training very soon β you are sure you must protect your kingdom. against the enemy. and who exactly is the enemy ? you donβt question. you are given a purpose and you hold onto it with everything you have.
Β Β Β THREE.Β βhave you seen the fancy kid? thinking he is gonna be a knight; i doubt he can even hold a knife properly.β one of them laughs, and you can hear them speaking at the dinner table behind you. the other one snickers in response before continuing.Β βhe probably doesnβt want to get his clothes dirty, what a joke.β you grip the fork tighter in your grasp, and force yourself to finish your plate. tomorrow, you will train harder, tomorrow, you will try to harness the magic in your veins, tomorrow, you will work yourself to the bone. today, it takes so much for you to not retort, but you manage to wait, you bury the anger deep inside you, the burning pain that you arenβt accepted here. here, you are a royal. there, you are a mere peasant. then who are you really ?
Β Β Β FOUR. you are so close to the answer. you must be. you are finally taken seriously by both of the groups you have grown into β- you bow your head down as you are knighted, the gold tainted sword touching your shoulders gently,Β βone of the best of your group, he will be a fine knight.β they say, and you feel your chest swell with pride.Β βfor my country-β you promise,Β βfor nehalennia, i will protect and serve.β you have fully grasped your purpose now, to serve those who lead you, the ones at the top of the kingdom who serve their citizens. however, the reality seeps in slowly that they serve only themselves, and citizens are mere pawns in their game.
Β Β Β FIVE. the truth is bitter β so bitter that only working yourself to the extremes can help you sleep at nights. they donβt care, the royals donβt care about the people ofΒ nehalennia, their own people. everyday, you see more of what lies behind the curtain. they trust you, they regard you one of their own.Β βraised by sir dorian, you are one of us, son. just look the other way.β and the first time, you do. the second time, you do the same. and excuses of how you are merely following orders barely spray water on you battered conscience. there are people in the barracks, arrested and found guilty for saying whatβs wrong with the monarchy. the true greed of those at the top make you sick to your stomach. you need to do something, you canβt belong here, you canβt β not when people are suffering. not when your childhood best friend is lost and no one bats and eye. this is WRONG, you scream in your head. βi donβt want to belong hereβ, you whisper into the darkness at night.
Β Β Β SIX. you help as much as you can, you help people get out of the barracks at nights, and pretend to be on duty when itβs light. you say the enemy has outdone you, when you clearly looked the other way β because you knew they werenβt at fault. whippings and any kind of punishment becomes redundant, you only bare your teeth and fake apologies fall from your lips. the scars on your back are nothing to those on your conscience. loneliness shakes your frame, and belonging becomes the least of your worries. you need to get out, if you canβt change the system ( god knows you have tried ), you need to get out β or it is going to eat you whole.Β
Β Β Β SEVEN. so you run away. it takes everything out of you, so much that you feel it rips a part of you behind. after all, you are running away from of all you have known, all you tried to call home. sometimes you even believed you found the answers you were searching for, when you cried in front of two stones that represented your loss, when you laughed with other knights after a victory, when uncle dorian hugged you and said he was proud of you. but no, thatβs not home, it canβt be. you simply couldnβt belong there when your purpose was to help those in power use you for themselves. not when there was so much suffering in the villages, not when you were ordered to hurt those who tried to stand for a just cause. no, perhaps, you are a coward for running away, but itβs all you can do, because you know the next punishment wonβt end with a whipping.Β
Β Β Β EIGHT. once you have set yourself free from the chains that bound you, the world is much more colorful than you think. you meet so many people, you try so many earthly delights, you are mad at yourself for not doing this sooner. this is nothing to be ashamed of, and you slowly learn that you donβt need to dedicate your entire life for a purpose when you can do so much more. the magic in your veins grow stronger everyday you express it more freely, and you are eager to learn more. when the oceans arenβt enough for you, you set foot on the surface, and everything it represents excites you to the bone. the air thicker, the people freer β there are so many chances to become the person you want to be; you donβt have to decide just yet. you can make home wherever you want to be. and if you add a little bit of darkness, yearning for power to remain who you want to be as a sea-bound β your conscience doesnβt sting like it used to. itβs a small price paid to belong, a small price paid to find and create your own home.Β
β we buried truth under playgrounds. β
β itβs hard to get rid of people who donβt know you hate them. β
β you make me want to pretend to be a better man. β
β those who can, do. those who canβt apparently run this fucking place. β
β live and learn, or die and teach by example. β
β there should be a word for the things we do not because we want to, but because we want to be the kind of person that wants to. β
β you wonβt live forever in their memories. the way you treated them will. β
β one day iβll be me. β
β nobody dies before their time. thatβs what β their time β means. β
β some people arenβt books, theyβre poems. β
β thereβs a darkness on the edge of town. β
β itβs time to make yourself proud and everyone else a little nervous. β
β iβm tired of being my best. β
β if i could have just one wish, i would probably screw it up. β
β my resolution this year is to buy a dog and practice loving something back. β
β youβre too pretty to stab me in the face with that knife. β
β can we be friends? i would try to be a good friend. β
β nothing matters at all. might as well be nice to people. β
β what sounds better? revenge or popcorn? β
β it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission. β
β i hear smashing glass in my head, every time i laugh. β
β i would sell my soul for a soul worth keeping. β
β follow your horrible little heart! β
β who has time for perfection? β
β i donβt believe each person has just one true love, but sometimes we donβt have enough time to find another. β
β i fought my way into this world. iβll fight my way out. β
β you are never so low you deserve to be lower. β
β when you look down at people, donβt you want to help them up? β
β well, i donβt like any of those things, but i like you. β
β iβm the best there is at what i do, and what i do is think about my mistakes. β
β the worst person you can think of gets scared sometimes too. β
β everybody dies. every single person. so, style counts. β
β if poetry could describe the way you make me feel poetry would be illegal. β
β did it hurt? when you clawed your way up from the depths of hell? β
where : Β the black manor during lotus night
when : Β april 22nd , 12:02 pm
who : Β open !!
the wytches mustβve invested in some 100% pure alcohol or something.Β the few glasses of whiskey heβs had while lurking around the vaympire den were actually hitting him.Β the weyrwolf felt sluggish and his mind took a moment to register what was going on around him.Β itβd hit him slowly , then suddenly he noticed the delay.Β his mind turned and it wasnβt long until he was unsettled and slightly stumbling towards a bench in one of the hallways , away from the larger crowds.Β Β Β βΒ gods.Β βΒ Β the stressed groan was raspy and accompanied by a rumbling growl echoing from his chest.Β he leaned his head down into his hands only to jerk away as a stabbing pain radiated from his hairline.Β Β β Β what the fuck ?Β βΒ lucan looked to see his claws instead of fingernails with a reddish tint.Β then a familiar liquid fell into his eye.
Β Β Β it's hot, too hot β caspian isn't sure if this is a side effect of the alcohol, but he thinks if it is, he really doesn't understand why humans are so fond of it. he feels quenched, and others around him don't look too happy either β then again, the syren is too dizzy to care about that as he picks up a bottle of water as he steps away from the dance floor, wanting to get away as much as he can from the large crowds. maybe it wasn't the best of ideas to go to the party, but it is too late now, and his skin itches with the want to swim. it's unlike the homesickness he has been feeling for so long β as if this is something else, but the knight has no idea what exactly. it's when he is looking for a place to settle down that he sees the bench with someone else sitting on it, and he sits down next to them β it takes him a moment too late to see the man has blood on his face, but it doesn't take long before he is immensely worried. "are you alright ?" he asks, his eyes glued to the man's hands rather than anything else before he looks at him, unsure what to do β unsure if he can help. this isnβt usual, even for him.
βοΈ when:Β may 8th, 2019Β
βοΈ where: deadwood park
βοΈ with:Β open thread
the taste of dark-roast coffee stained his breath. it was soon masked by the mint-flavored gum the wytch slipped into his mouth as he adjusted the neat glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. the blonde male spent the past four hours arguing with a client in his office about a particular dark artifact that was impossible to procure; even for him. after some heated exchanges, the two agreed that their behavior was deplorable and would not resurface in future conversations. the two understood the need for respect in their field and theyβd dismiss this as a mere lapse in judgment. macaulay knew this man was a true fool not to listen to him, then again heβd move onto the next dealer who promised him this item. heβd eventually succumb to a scam and mac would merely smile as the other housed an inauthentic item. excusing his guest, he packed his bag, and headed to a place in town that brought forth an overwhelming sense of clam. as he approached his favorite bench in a very desolate park, the man took a seat and cleared his throat. βitβs a nice day out isnβt it?β he asked as he took a seat next to them and hoped they were ready for a idle conversation.
Β Β it's caspian's lunch break from work, after a considerably uneventful morning and only a few crazy fans, he is looking forward to having some time off. some people are unexpectedly stubborn when it comes to wanting to meet their idols, and it's true that the syren learns something new every day. the importance of said information is up to debate, however, since it mostly consists of who dates who, which actor is in which drama, movie, or any other production. the knight used to have no time whatsoever for things like this when he was at nehallennia, but now it is quite literally his job to be on top of these things. which, unfortunately enough, doesn't attract his attention all that much. so the knight simply treats it all as a job, knowing the ins and outs of celebrities, which ones are working at their studios and what not.
Β Β it is somewhat tiring, so he is glad to have a break to himself this time. on his way to the park, he picks up a sandwich to eat alongside a cup of coffee, and settles on a bench to watch the serene afternoon scene play out before him. he has just taken a bite from his sandwich when a stranger sits next to him, and once he has swallowed the bite, he smiles at them with a nod. he doesn't mind small talk at all, welcomes it even β there are too many interesting people on the surface, especially deadwood, so caspian doesn't mind meeting new people. Β "it is quite nice indeed β i always tell myself to bring bird food but i keep forgetting. not that i have an idea where to get it from, but β" his shoulders lift up and down in a shrug. "i'm new here, you see. but i'm enjoying the sights so far."
ππππππππ: dell rapids, lake vernon
ππππ: 07/05/19
ππππππ: closed for @levibasara
Β Β to be able to swim again is something caspian has missed so much, there is a wide smile on his face as he dives and jumps back to the surface, tail shining bright against the light of the sun even if the lake is somewhat covered by the tall trees surrounding it. he has missed looking at his tail, as odd as it is, and now that he is swimming for the first time in two weeks, it looks brighter, the red, orange and gold hues sparkling as he grins, and dives back down again. the sea life is nowhere the same, the inside of the lake is almost depressing compared to the kingdom he comes from, but it is better than nothing, and caspian is in such a good mood for the first time in weeks that he can't be bothered.
Β Β the knight loses track of time easily even if the lake could be compared to a small pool to where he comes from β nonetheless, he swims idly, dives, tries to catch fish and releases them, has a fun time alone enjoying his day. however, perhaps he should have been more careful, because what he realizes too late is that he isn't alone. the syren has heard enough horror stories to know you don't reveal that you are a syren to just anyone else, so he is suddenly on guard, hating the fact that he has left his weapons ( and clothes ) to the side, where they are closer to the stranger than caspian himself.
Β Β when he spots the man, however, he quickly dives back, hiding his tail as much as he can while it still shines through the surface. his head peeks from the surface of the water as he quickly takes back his form as a human, tail turning into a pair of legs that are much less comfortable than he would have liked β but there are more pressing matters at hand. when the transformation is done, he is undeniably nervous, but since they have made eye contact already, he doesn't know what to do but talk to him, hoping he means well. "have you... uh β how long have you been standing there ?" it's a dumb question, but the best he can start with, he muses to himself. on the other hand, he is still trying to figure out how to get to his belongings if the man does unfold to be dangerous.
βListen, Gabe. I can call you Gabe, right? Since youβve got the balls to come up and talk business at a party, I feel we can get a little more personal here.β Gabriel du Pont is a D-list, bottom of the barrel, South Dakota celebrity. Goes byΒ βThe Bullβ on his morning talk show (radio, thank god. heβs got the face for it) and the name fits with that big head, flaring nostrils, shoulders almost too wide to jostle through doors and godβ he smells like one too.
βYou want meββ Felix taps a finger over his heart. ββto change my time slot to 9 am so youββ Now the fingerβs jabbing into Gabeβs soft belly, sinking in.Β ββcan get more listeners.β
A server coasts by and Felix pilfers a flute of champagne from the tray. βMmmm.β Makes a show of deliberating, taking a drink and letting it warm in his mouth before he swallows. βNah. Thatβs bad business, baby. Whatβs in it for me?β
Heβs expecting Gabe to barter. Hopes he does, because thatβll make turning the self-centered prick (pot, kettle) down even more satisfying, like salting the meat before sinking his teeth in. What he doesnβt expect is the man to grab him by the lapels of his suit, dragging him forward toβfuck, grossβbreath on him and the flute shatters to the ground in the scuffle.
βDonβt.β Felix grits his teeth. βTouch me.β
Β Β Β he always keeps an eye on felix, especially during times like this β as it falls under his job description, eyes never leave the figure even if caspian does his best not to be overbearing. he knows how much people hate it when you breathe down their necks. in reality, the syren supposes they both know that, but he is quite proud of the method he has perfected, not close enough to bother, but close enough to be there when something goes wrong. this is something he has been doing for decades after all, perhaps the only thing he feels comfortable doing on the surface; keeping people safe. underwater or above, it has the same essence, and he finds himself easily falling back into the role of the knight.
Β Β so, when he sees another male threateningly talking to felix, his senses are quickly on alert, he straightens up a little, eyes not leaving their conversation even if he can't hear all that they are saying. caspian doesn't really know if the other is a celebrity, a friend, or an enemy just yet ( he hasn't caught up on the magazine news just yet, and he doesn't know if he ever will ) β but his instincts and the stranger's body language shows more than enough.
Β Β caspian still feels it's too late that the man has touched his boss like that ( he should have been quicker, what if the man had a weapon? ) β but the moment he sees the danger take a step forward, caspian jumps into action as well, and before the other can utter a word out, he quite forcefully pulls him from felix, bends his arms to his back and presses his face to the wall in mere seconds, pushing him into the surface quite roughly. ( this encounter might leave some bruises even before caspian has done anything, but he can't find it in himself to care. )
Β Β "what the hell do you think you're doing?" he grunts into the man's ear, who is clearly struggling but barely a match for caspian with his lack of proper technique. once he stops wiggling, he pulls him back from the wall and makes him face felix, far enough that he canβt try anything again, but easily within earshot. after that, the bodyguard meets his boss' eyes, one eyebrow raised in a question. "what do you want to do with him ? i think he should apologize first, mhm ?" he bends one of the wrists in his grasp further outside, which quickly earns a yelp.
Where/When: Lotus Night, Black Hills Manor
Who: Open
Celeste walked through the party with her head held high. When sheβd heard of the dresscode for the evening, she had rolled her eyes. All the women around her were decked out in their best, their dresses looking too ridiculous for Celeste not to gawk at. Sheβd never understood why wearing big fancy dresses made women feel powerful. It only ever got in her way when she was doing something, constantly having to care about whether or not she was flashing someone her pussy or not. Who had time for that?
Her pant suit had been easy enough to find and it had just a tad bit of the girly note to it so that she looked beautiful, but not over dramatic. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, loose around her delicate face and wide brown eyes. She spotted some of those people she knew, and some she didnβtβmost all of them supernatural. 70 years in this town and you never really became anything but awestruck at the raw power in this place.
She downed her glass of champagne, and reached for another one as it wizzed by when she heard a commotion. Her head snapped around, her shoulders going rigid and her defense mode turned on. Some girl had stepped on some other girlβs dress and now part of it was ripped. Everyone seemed so shocked and all Celeste could do was laugh. She turned to the person next to her, trying to keep her laughter low. βAnd that, is why dresses are fucking stupid.β She said, yearning for something harder than champagne. βDo you know where the hell the bar is in this place?β
Β Β the first thing caspian realized was that the part was really crowded, so loud that he felt a headache coming. he might have been a little biased, for all the parties he used to attend were royal events, and other than that, there was rarely any occasion ( or time ) for the knight to go to events like this. so, unfortunately, he felt quite out of his element as he looked for the pair of syrens at the party, knowing that they must have been around as well. even if his initial mission was to bring them back to nehalennia ( still is ) β he still couldn't help but be worried for their safety as well, considering how weird some of the people on the surface were.
Β Β and when it came to just that, he heard the commotion across the dance floor, every part of his body tensing, nerves high, trained and ready to fight since the sounds clearly signified danger. his duties before had always included helping people in need β but this situation seemed to be... more challenging than anything else, two drunk women fighting, seemingly not just over the dress but some other dire matter. caspian was still debating if he should break them up when he heard the woman next to him speak, quite elated rather than anything else. laughter wasn't something he expected at all, and caspian couldn't help but look at her as if she grew another head.
Β Β Β "this is... normal ? are you sure we shouldn't break them up ?" words fell from his lips, even though he couldn't help but feel it would be okay. if she was laughing and people were simply watching ( no blood just yet, only screams at one another ) β it would be fine, right ? no need to unsheathe the knives strapped to his belt. so, he turned his attention back to the stranger again, tilting his head a bit as he spoke. "it can't be just about the dress ! is it really just about the dress ? they seem to hate each other β and uh, i have no idea, i think it's outside ? there is a man doing tricks with a metal shaker, so that might be where more drinks are at. "
for a being that resented the idea of heaven; he sure felt he had arrived. the soft petals of the flower relax in his hand. it was the form he took during the sunlight that made him feel the closest to earth. mortals had it all wrong ; not all demons lurked in the darkness or stuck their claws out from the ground.Β
βI think this one would suit you.β he notes. his voice is the first temptation to lure one in. a kind, soft and eager-to-please middle aged man. one might question his life, but no one would expect what truly lingered underneath. his hand lifts up to the stranger with a rustic looking plant and itβs clay pot.Β
βAfrican daisies,β he begins with a sense of pride,Β βtheyβre easy to grow.β his voice tickles with kindness ; why couldnβt he be this way always? the daylight ( in all irony ) would kick his dark habits to the side of the road. however, forever he would find himself with the job granted to him by his maker: the collector.Β
Β Β Β taking a stroll through the corals, the sea life and the plethora of plants has always been one of caspian's favourite things to do when he felt everything was getting too much, and now that he feels similar in a completely new place β he has been looking forward to exploring the nature on the surface. it's through a flower shop he has been passing by on his way home, and when he is done early for the day, he can't help but enter. the knight hopes to get a few plants he can nourish at home, to liven things up a little.
Β Β Β the man is kind, and caspian smiles wide at the suggestion, a hint of surprise in his gaze that the other has made such an assessment about him. the syren's attention is soon turned to the delicate flower as he looks at it, lips pursed, wondering if he can actually manage to take care of it himself. "does it need much light ? i'm not very good at taking care of plants, well, i never tried β so i'm afraid i'd kill something so beautiful if i mess up." he tentatively points out, one hand going up to run through his hair. "are cacti better for first beginners ? since they don't need much ?" and since the man seems so nice, he canβt help but ask.Β βthis is going to sound odd, but... do you have any water plants ?β
where:Β victorian garden ( garden inn ), deadwood.
time: 1:02 AM
open: to everyone.
the moon kissed the night sky. his feet relax in the cold kissed grass ; barefoot and one with nature. he stands in the crossroads of trees ; no matter where or when if one comes to the centre of four lines they may sell their soul to his maker. what might happen to those who retreat back? they might just turn into a prop for his garden.Β
however, the early hours of the morning he felt as if the other wouldnβt be so easy to trick. the party had ended in drunkeness and lust. however, he rested in the victorian garden of his new home. his eyes draw to the person who appeared in the darkness. for once he lets curiosity tickle his entirety.Β
Β Β Β Β Β he steps from his crossroad ; not tonight. even demonβs deserve a night off.Β
βare you lost?βΒ he speaks out, but with soft echoes. he wondered if the people he turned into trees could listen to his conversations: to ache and desire to scream out to the other? however, not even the screams of another.Β βhow about I help you back to the building?βΒ
Β Β Β his senses arenβt completely overtaken by the alcohol, but it would be a lie to say that caspian is sober. simply tipsy, he would retort, and having a nice time for the first time in weeks. being too strung out is not something he can help with, but drinking is usually the solution to that, letting him take a moment to breathe and forget everything that he is messing up.
Β Β as such, caspian has little idea about how late it is, pleasantly buzzed as the fresh air strikes his frame, the weather a bit chilly for his liking, but it works to sober him up considerably. homesickness hits him at times like this the most, when he is as physically alone as he mentally feels to be. streets take him to a place then another, and caspian has little idea where he is, too wrapped up in his mind to notice; the darkness and the dim lights only help further bury him into his mind.
Β Β he isn't afraid by any means, caspian has full belief that he is able to protect himself from whatever is thrown his way ( knight training is rigorous to say the least ) β but the sudden question out of nowhere does make him flinch, and he searches for the source for a short moment he sees the figure. "i'm not β" caspian begins, words falling flat once he realizes that man in front of him has a point.
Β Β "it's okay β i'd just... appreciate if you could tell me which part of town i'm in. i might be... in the wrong place. i guess." the surface is confusing, and so is south dakota. even if he has been residing here for two weeks, he still has no clue about where he found himself in, but he figures it can't be too far from the bar he was drinking in not too long ago.
itβs just late. theyβre getting closer and closer to curfew, and it isnβt as if garrettβs job entirely stops when curfew does. heβs half-betting he wonβt be able to make it home before curfew starts, and then someoneβll be out after curfew, and his job will extend further and further. home is just across deadwood from the department, but that can seem like a distance that cannot be crossed when it comes to how constant the work is. it never ends. time marches on and the minutes slip somewhere where he canβt get them back.
he doesnβt recognize this kid. he seems young, and garrettβs tired, so maybe, as long as heβs polite, he wonβt press the issue with the ticket. either way, he notes make and model again anyway.
βseventy in a forty-five zone,β garrett says idly. βwhich is usually about a hundred and fifty dollars to the state of south dakota. give or take a bit.β the kid doesnβt seem to be scrambling to hide anything. no arm in an awkward position. and he seems apologetic about it. that bodes well. βlook, i need to see your license, registration, insurance. the works.β the key is that he doesnβt really issue tickets to first time offenders, especially when theyβre new in town. some of deadwoodβs signs are poorly maintained.
some officers go dead quiet while waiting for the driver to get out all the paperwork. garrettβs watching, of course, with the paranoia of someone whoβs been doing this for long enough to note some off motions, but he also doesnβt want to ice the guy out. βnot from here, yeah? whereβre you from then? i donβt think iβve seen you around town before. or at least i havenβt seen this car.β he raps his knuckles gently against the windowframe,
Β Β to hear the exact numbers make him wince, surprised he was going that far up the limit. even though he had no idea, he knows that's not an excuse, that it is clearly dangerous not only to him, but others as well. a hand goes up to ruffle his hair as he listens, and even if it's not a little sum, caspian isn't the one to obstruct justice when he is clearly at fault. he might need to work overtime for a week, but in the end, he doesn't want to be a problem to the police officer; the knight is clearly out of his element.
Β Β "i'm terribly sorry about it, really. it's justβ been a tough week i suppose. and i know it's no excuse, officer." he amends a short moment after, not wanting to be one of those people and resorting to emotional appeals β caspian doesn't think he is that good of an actor anyways, even if the act is honest, he is too cold to go to that as a solution. he gives the other a small nod at the words, hoping there won't be a problem matching his credentials on the database. "yes, sir. let me get my stuff."
Β Β he leans towards the passenger seat to pick up his backpack, digging through it before he finds his wallet. caspian actually doesn't know if he has insurance, the life on the surface is weird enough for him already without the paperwork, but he figures the man will tell him (or give him more tickets) depending on what he lacks. "uh, here is my id, and my license. the car is rental, so i'm not sure if i have everything you need but, there is a folder here with the documents they gave me."
Β Β he takes out the file from the glove box and hands it to the police officer alongside his license and id, and even if it's slightly uncomfortable, he doesnβt have a lot to hide β especially since he is veiling his true form, the man shouldn't have a clue that caspian is not exactly human. "oh, i'm from england. i came here two weeks ago. like i said, the car isn't mine either."
βI thinkββ She lifts a hand and flicks her index finger up, an anchor to hold his attention to. ββ you should start with wine.β Sheβs been taught to deliver her opinions as absolutes, and in that straight-backed, solid tone it comes off as a truth to be accepted without question.
βAnd you just arrived.β This is where her voice wavers. Caspian brings with him the sea and an ebb and flow of memories. Sheβd allowed herself to dull them under the new and brighter and fantastic things on land, but nowβ βHardly.β She lies. βI havenβt been here long.β
Kicking at the water she sighs, βDo you think Iβm ready?β To ruleβbut thatβs left unspoken. Her older brother would be better. Perhaps Caspian thinks so too.
Β Β Β he canβt help but let out a little laugh when maya tells it like that; the final truth, something he must do. maybe she has a point, but he shrugs.Β βisnβt there too many types of wine besides red and white... last time i ββ a little pause, because well, the last time he was on the surface trying wine was with that special somoene, and the thought of very same person now sends a sting through his heart.Β βi... heard something like that. iβve been drinking more than enough, donβt worry.β maybe too much, but that was during his off hours, so it didnβt matter.
Β Β Β βi donβt need to be here for long to miss home. ocean is just... who i am. who we are.β there isnβt a minute he doesnβt missΒ nehalennia, even if he is so curious and intrigued by this place. then again, he leaves that last part out. the girlβs next words, however, does surprise caspian, eyes widening a little at the unsaid connotations. itβs a loaded question, and although the knight is taken back, he answers honestly.Β βi... i think you are. there are a lot of people ready to help you as well. it doesnβt need to be something you have to do alone, even if it might seem like that now. we all think you are ready, maya.β
ππππππππ: dell rapids, lake vernon
ππππ: 04/05/19
ππππππ: open to all
Β Β his limbs have been itching for a while now, the uneasiness has been building up for the past week. however, being busy helped the homesickness the syren felt. at first, his failed attempts at fulfilling his mission was more than enough to fill his mind, and after that the realization came that he needed a job, and he began working soon enough. but his longing to be in water was something that was a lot harder to forget; having lived underwater for the past fifty years, caspian has never been on the surface for so long, and as such, it has been showing its signs. the inability to sleep, his tendency to snap unnecessarily, the nervous ticks that took over his frame. he hated the weakness that came with it, the yearning that threatened to come over him. as such, he found a solution soon enough.
Β Β caspian learned that apparently, dell rapids was a hot spot for other syrens who wanted to get in water, a place of solace to swim to their heartβs content. so, on his day off, he heads to the lake vernon, hoping it would be a nice day off before he could focus on the more important stuff again. as he parks the rental motorcycle and heads towards the waterside, he canβt help but be disappointed. perhaps itβs just his petulance showing through, but as he should have expected β itβs nothing like nehalennia. the reminder of the bright ocean sends a pang through his heart. but itβs fine β the knight has a mission to fulfill, and this is an indulgence anyhow.
Β Β however, unfortunately enough, before he can get in the water and turn to his true form, he realizes he isnβt alone β and he canβt be quite sure if the other occupant is a syren or not. caspian has heard enough stories to know he shouldnβt readily reveal himself, so he has no option but to approach the other. βare you planning on staying long? or are you going to swim as well ?β it isnβt the kindest he has been, but being so near the water yet still dry has put the syren in a bad mood already. he supposes if the other is there to swim as well, it should be safe enough, since it is a spot for syrens mostly.
by the time you rise high enough up in the ranks of the deadwood police department, itβs about the little nuances of the job. paperwork isnβt pleasant unless youβre a particular kind of deputy, and the politics arenβt really garrettβs favorite part of the job either. he likes being able to improve things - to fine tune the machine of the department as much as he can, underneath the weight of all the homicides, disappearances, and general crime rate in deadwood. he would prefer to never have to speak to the mayor again, for example, and to be able to just go on patrol.
so the solution is to sometimes go on patrol. garrettβs leaving work at a normal time. heβll call in once he pulls into the garage, a final indication that heβs off call for the night, and heβll be able to actually see his sons. theyβll put on a movie, or one of them (wyatt, probably) will be asleep. and on the rare early nights like these, he sometimes likes to do a little patrol work.
just a touch of it. speeding tickets and intervening in a few duis staggering out of heavenβs tavern at weird hours.
so when someoneβs going seventy in a thirty-five zone, passing him by as he sits at a little past forty as a test, he debates it for a moment, and then flicks on the lights and siren, following them until they pull over to the roadside. he rattles off the plates and make and model to dispatch as they go, idle. not expecting a resposne right now.
flashlight, and stopping at that particular angle at the door so he can react if necessary. all the old tendencies, like clockwork.Β βokay,β he says.Β βi want to get home just as much as you probably do, so would you like to guess how fast you were going?β
Β Β these type of vehicles are completely new for the sea-bound syren, the technology on the surface is much more different than what they have back underwater, and a part of himself loves the thrill of speeding, being in control of something for the first time in a while. that is a dramatic line of thought, but his failed attempts at finishing his mission puts caspian in a constantly sour mood, looking for ways to de-stress. being in the same town as his ex-lover is much more difficult than he thought it would be, and as he drives home from work, he might be speeding a little... too much in the rental car.
Β Β Β it's not like he notices how much he is over the speed limit, there are other things in his mind as he drives through the streets, hand tapping on the steering wheel as he tries to think of what to do next. it's during that he hears the sirens, and a curse falls from his lips soon afterwards, realizing that he might be in trouble. now, the problem is caspian highly doubts he is in the system when the police officer looks him up β since he's a syren and very much not from south dakota, or even this country. he has his id's prepared, but he can't help but worry where this might lead. however, he has to stop, so he slows the car and rolls his window down.
Β Β at the words, he winces a little, having the decency to look apologetic before he speaks. "i imagine... a lot ? i'm not from here you see and... uh yeah, i'm terribly sorry about it." it's a lot less eloquent than he normally is, but then again, he is usually the one on the other side, not the one being questioned.
ππππππππ: six crown studios, rapid city
ππππ: 08/05/19
ππππππ: closed for @llnnx
Β Β Β at first, caspian had thought this job wouldn't be so different from his duties as a knight β it had the same basis, right? to protect the studio from strangers or anyone with malicious intent, and to serve his boss the best he could. yet again everything about the surface is different from nehalennia, and the knight is often left more confused than anything else. as such, one surprising phonemona is the fact that there are a lot of people who try to fool him, wanting to enter the studio to meet the artists. a lot of fans who think clever lies will be enough to persuade caspian are clearly mistaken; he has been protecting royals for so long, he can handle a few teenagers. and even if it shouldn't be too surprising that they want to meet their idolsβ he couldn't help but be affronted each time.
Β Β as such, when he is at front door duty, caspian is particularly careful about people who act as if they are one of the staff members or a new artist β he might not know the popular culture good enough yet, but there is always one thing he can check, which is the company database. they already taught him how to check people's ids and artists' schedules ( and a lot more ), so he knows what to do when someone enters. and all of this is surprisingly new to him β even if he has been protecting people for the past forty years.
Β Β in this occasion, he is quite sure the person in front of him is impersonating one of the artists' siblings β directly his boss's, that is. a part of himself wants to advise the man to be less ambitious than that, a lower artist's relative would be much more believable. caspian knows his boss, thank you very much, and he never heard the man had a brother, neither there was a note about it somewhere β so he shoots the other a tired look before he speaks. "i can't let you in. first, i need to see some id. secondly, do you have an appointment with him ?" he highly doubts that, but asks nonetheless. courtesy and all that.
