Amid all the gloom and doom, there have been rumours of a pop-up ice cream parlor come to lighten the mood. Trouble is, it’s a fairly exclusive set-up, and is never seen twice in the same place. Maybe you’ve been lucky enough to receive an invitation, or have a friend who can show you the way. The Ice Creamatory welcomes all who should find their way. But as you leave, delicious treat in hand, one of the letters on the sign falls, revealing the shop’s true name: The Ice Crematory - which begs the question: just what have you all actually been eating…? Better go stop the shopkeeper from running if you’d like to find out. [Grants Riding +1]
//starter for @relivepast
He almost finds it funny, that no matter where he goes, inhumane tragedy is sure to follow. Fergus blinks first at the sign, then the 'confection' in his hands, and finally back inside the shop. How exactly did he get here, again?
It all started on that day of classes. It was ordinary, like any other. The blonde walked in with his nose held high and his spirits soaring overhead--full of confidence, as he was known to be. Just shy of a month, and he had adjusted his life to the academy. He got up at a consistent hour, ate bread or porridge before a brief study in the library, and maybe passed the Prince on his way. He shaved every three days, bathed as it was available to him--enjoyed the peace of it all, really. And the gentle beat of everyday life made his heart thrum in tandem, guiding him into his seat that morning. But before he could scrawl down the date at the top of his page, he was shocked into forgetting. Eyvel walked in, that woman from back in the day.
Even worse, she taught, and he learned from her.
It went without saying that he'd approach her after the lecture. As he did, he couldn't help the smile hanging on his mouth. He could feel that she recognized him, too, that their reunion was one of mutual joy. A bit of back-and-forth, here-and-there, and they agreed to try that 'Ice Creamatory' stuff.
"So! Haven't seen you in a minute. I'd have thought you'd have gray hairs by now," he laughed, once they sat down to eat. His order was a 'Noa Fruit Gelato', said by the shopkeep to be one of the denser, stretchier desserts. And the guy wasn't kidding. Fergus marveled at how it was almost like a fudge, but fruity and cold (and if he was being honest, had an aftertaste). While he chewed, he looked around the room.
One big, sterilized box. With porcelain tiles sharply cut and pale blue. With them under every step one takes, it was hard for Fergus to feel like he wasn't in an uncanny ocean. The windows were also small and high off the ground, a trait he knew was shared by prisons. And beyond the wooden counter and wooden menu sat an enormous stockpile of wooden crates. Or, at least, he thought they were crates. He found them each so big and only lit by a dim, flickering flame further back that Fergus never got a good read on their function.
He eventually shrugged, and refocused on Eyvel. She was what really mattered, here.
"Kidding, of course. How goes it? Things are a lot different than how they used to be... Even if you're still givin' me pointers."