OPEN RP POST DEUX

[formidable]

This a post where I'll RP anything with you and that means ANYTHING. Except smut because I suck at that Got a scenario in mind? I'LL DO IT. Here's some prompts below to help get things moving along if you don't have an idea to play out. The prompts are just prompts, if you have something specific, just let me know either at sweethymns or my AIM (rainsweets). Have at it! ➢ 01. AMUSEMENT PARK: Disneyland? Knotts Berry Farm? Six Flags? A made up amusement park with knockoff characters? Who cares, let's just ride that roller coaster or that giant swing ride! ➤ 02. PARK: Benches, trees, grass, maybe a lake and a basketball or volleyball court. ➢ 03. SNOWY DAY: Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful... or the level of snowfall can be any you wish! Light or heavy, there's going to be some winter related activities somewhere. ➤ 04. DINER: I love food, I really, really, really love food. And so do muses if they like to eat too! This diner seems to have a very HUGE menu with a large variety of dishes! Let's bond over food stuffs! ➢ 05. SICK DAY: Either your muse or my muse is sick. Who's taking care of who? ➤ 06. SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN: Our characters are stuck in a closet and can't get out until there is some kissing, so they better make good use of those seven minutes... DON'T YOU DARE JUDGE ME. ➢ 07. SCHOOL: High school never ends! Or any type of schooling really. So whether it's in class or in the gym, let's try to endure mandatory education! ➤ 08. SURVIVAL HORROR: That old mansion/creepy town/underground science lab/zombie infested city ain't going to be survived by itself. Grab your medicinal herbs and shotguns, let's survive the horror. ➢ 09. WILDCARD: Let's make up shit.

Comments

[pragnanz]

[ He knows when he's touching a nerve, so he backs off. Slightly. ]

Even doctors have to be salesmen— ever in search of new patients. Incorrigible, the lot of us.

[ A laugh, light and reedy. ]

But your Oren's been kind enough to make such good tea, I can't be too difficult.

[infusion]

Good thing there's a whole lotta sick people in the world then. You got plenty to pick from.

[She's usually not this prickly, but only when it came to him.]

Do you specialize in anything?

[pragnanz]

[ Cheerfully: ] Me? I'm a surgeon, strictly speaking. But I like to think that I wear many hats.

[ Well, that isn't weird at all!!! He cuts a line across the table with a finger, as if he's slicing it open. ]

It's an ugly job, all things considered, but someone has to do it.

[infusion]

[Note to self; don't find myself under the knife with this guy leading the operation. (Iona, please, you're being bratty, you're better than this.)]

Hopefully, you're more successful than not. [She's returned to her usual civility.]

I know some people from my school studying medicine. They tell me that failing to save a life is just part of the learning process when it comes to that profession.

[The idea of a surgery seems abnormal weirdly enough. An old memory faintly reappears withing her mind; her grandmother's mansion, one of those lavish rooms, waking up and feeling that hollow feeling on her right and the sensation of the foreign substance that begins to painfully combine and infuse with her very being...

She brightly adds:]

But you gotta learn from failure in most anything you do. That's what my grandma taught me.

[pragnanz]

Oh? That's awfully pragmatic of you, calling a lost life a "failure".

[ That statement is punctuated by a little wave, careless and seemingly dismissive: as though he's shooing off any accusatory insinuations that might come along with his words. ]

If we're looking to be strictly utilitarian, you'd be right. If you tell yourself that the weight of another life has nothing to do with yours, it's quite easy to look a cadaver in the eye and tell yourself, 'next time'.

[ A little exhale. ]

Was your grandmother a doctor?

[infusion]

[Back then, she wouldn't have been so pragmatic and that reply would have immediately sparked an indignant retort and defensiveness. Now, Iona just feels a little sad. Both Oren and Berna, they had warned her ahead of time to prepare for the passing of time where she slows down and everything and everyone else passes in a flash. Pragmatism was a part of growing up as a magickind and not everyone could handle it gracefully. Aside from the infighting, it was another reason why there was a lot less of them in the world.

Ah, right. Grandma.]

You know, if someone told me she was a doctor at one point, I'd believe it.

[You can do a LOT in 400 years.]

But I don't think she was. That would require getting dirty hands and even she has her limits.

[pragnanz]

[ On his end, he was expecting some sort of defensiveness— or admonishment, he gets that a lot— and is vaguely disappointed when he gets neither. He sips his tea, feels the warmth of it travel into his stomach, and wonders for a brief moment if this is safe to drink.

Ah, well.

That moment of silence buys him enough time to transition into a smile, and he even laughs when he hears Iona's second statement. ]

I take offense, as a doctor. [ And, abruptly: ] Will you come closer for a moment, miss?

[infusion]

[She blinks. And then narrows her eyes.]

Whhhhhhhy??

[Look, customer and witch barista.... It can't work sry2say. In all seriousness, Iona isn't going to immediately give.]

[pragnanz]

[ How could you possibly doubt such a trustworthy person???? Except no, Claude is objectively terrible and she's smart to ask this very wise question. ]

Come, come. The worst I could do is drip all over your nice shoes.

[ Except it isn't??? He's so full of shit. ]

[infusion]

Whoa now, don't give yourself that much credit.

[Well. Worse comes to worst, there's Oren who would defend her in a jiffy. He usually doesn't though because he doesn't have to.

She makes a thinking expression before replying.]

Your name. Give me your name first.

[pragnanz]

[ Hm. He toys with the idea of giving an alias, just to mess around with the notion, but he's never been especially ashamed of his name despite everything that could have led him to be.

So, he relents without much hesitation: ]

Claude. Claude Aubert. Should I write that out for you, in case you'd like to file a formal complaint against me in event of an emergency?

[infusion]

[She ignores that last part and dusts off her apron while coolly replying with her name.]

Iona. Iona Jacqueline Oakes.

[pragnanz]

Miss Oakes. [ His smile gets a touch wider, as he beckons her over again. ] It'll only be a moment of your time.

[infusion]

[With her eyes still narrowed, she finally relents and hops over the counter to approach his table and then sit on the chair across from him.]

Alright. Bring it.

[pragnanz]

You make it sound as if I'll attack you with a scalpel if you're not careful. Surely I don't strike you as the type.

[ And it's true: he's never been a fighter, his half-brother's always been the one that'd been better with a gun.

She comes over and he watches her carefully, feline features curled in amusement. ]

I just wanted to see your hands.

[infusion]

[Oh.

... Was there some hesitation? Perhaps, but Iona places both hands on the table, palms facing up. They're normal enough hands with the palms a slightly lighter tint than the rest of her.]

What, you a fortune teller now?

[pragnanz]

[ And he leans over, inspecting her hands as if there's something profound he can see in them...

...before he settles back and chuckles, winds his own fingers together and settles them on his lap. ]

Actually, I wanted to see if you'd eventually fold. [ oh my GOD ] You did, you're very charming.

[infusion]

[Her face is unmoving, but her right hand twitches. :|| Iona doesn't move her hands away though and just wrinkles her nose at Claude.]

I'm not that stubborn. [uh your description says otherwise]

And if you wanted to call me charming you didn't have to go through the trouble. I can take a compliment, no biggie.

[pragnanz]

I didn't, but then I would have had to say it from here, while you were all the way...

[ He points towards the counter where she'd been a few moments ago. ]

...Over there. Isn't it nicer this way?

[infusion]

[She gives him the, "Are you kidding me?" kind of look and she sighs as if actually relenting and leans back in her seat, crossing her arms, and shaking her head as if disappointed.]

Nicer, not sure. Roundabout's more like it.

[pragnanz]

Well. I was raised to respect the age-old tradition of pomp and circumstance.

[ He says, but his smile cracks a little and makes way for that ever-prevalent sense of vague detachment; a little disarming for someone who seems vibrant, otherwise. ]

[infusion]

[There's an awkward pause before Iona stands up and gets back behind the counter... To pour herself a cup of coffee, add milk and sugar, top it off with some foamed frothy cream, and a dash of nutmeg before she returns to the table to join Claude.]

Alright, I'll bite. No one else seems to be coming in yet, so we might as well talk until the rain lets up.

[pragnanz]

[ He's back to form by the time Iona comes back, his cup mostly emptied and his wet gloves hanging on the chair next to him, along with his overcoat. ]

Very good. I doubt anyone is outside in this rain, so let's hope it continues to be just you and me.

[ He's joking, he's joking. But, speaking of other people: ]

Though, it's strange— I don't seem to recall there ever being a cafe here.

[infusion]

[Well. Better tread carefully around this one although she's not sure if she can keep it up effectively without giving up and saying, "To hell with it," in the end.]

You're not recalling incorrectly. [Sips.] If that helps.

[pragnanz]

It does. It means that I'm not entirely ignorant about what goes on in my own city.

[ Not his at all, but he likes to say so if only because it's ironic. He watches her drink her coffee, which smells delicious even from a slight distance. ]

You're not from around here, are you, Miss Oakes?