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]

[ Magic. She uses that word so completely unironically that Claude actually laughs, elbow on the table and chin in hand. If he should be slightly more worried about his current predicament or whether or not he can get out of here in one piece, he isn't.

This is just a little more color to his day, honestly. ]

Let me get this straight: I've found myself in a magical cafe, divorced from space and time, headed by an employee who hasn't a clue as to how the place actually works.

[ Still chuckling. ]

Have I missed anything?

[infusion]

[Iona's usually... Okay about not getting flustered. She feels she gets frustrated and off balance like any normal person and could probably brush off most unsavory remarks about her shortcomings. Right now though, her embarrassment shows through the shrug in her shoulders and hiding her hands in her lap, like a child caught doing something bad.]

Ah... Well. There's two employees for one!

[Oren is probably in the kitchen shaking his head at his charge. But he's taught her long ago that she takes responsibility for what she spills so he's not jumping to her defense anytime soon.]

And I figured you already had an off feeling about me to begin with.

[pragnanz]

[ Her embarrassment is something he drinks in, a reaction for his provocation: he'll take it. That's enough for now.

Now, to contend with the very real issue of dealing with magic. His expression moves from teasing to evaluative. ]

My feelings were less about you being off and more about finding it suspicious that an establishment could appear out of thin air. But I take it that that's a confession of sorts about how 'magical' you are?

[infusion]

Yeah, might as well spill the beans... I mean, how many people are gonna believe you especially if my cafe doesn't show up in the same spot, much less the same year again?

[She clears her throat and sits up in an upright position.]

I'll introduce myself again. I'm Iona Jacqueline Oakes and I'm a witch.

[A beat and then she looks to the side with her face in her hands as if ashamed.]

It never sounds good, it NEVER sounds good!!

[pragnanz]

A witch.

[ He parrots the word, slow and deliberate, before appending: ]

Is there any proof to back that claim? Aside from all of...this.

[infusion]

Oh. Right. Proof.

[She regains her composure almost immediately (this woman is extremely emotive isn't she)]

Well, I guess the word itself has many connotations, like demonic rituals, eating children, and riding broomsticks... But yeah, totally inaccurate.

[pragnanz]

Ah, so you don't feast on the flesh of innocents. Disappointing.

[ He says this as if he's 100% earnest about his disappointment, when in reality, he's skill skeptical: not of her character, but of the fact that people like that don't exist. He's certain they do. ]

What can you do, then, Miss Witch?

[infusion]

Could you just call me Iona? Thanks.

[She has a name you know!! And her indignant expression says that much.]

As for what I can do, well... I've only scratched the surface of what I'm capable of, but at the same time it's probably nothing special.

[She declares this honestly and not out of being humble. Magickind's definition of their powers was a deceptively simple saying: "Making the impossible, possible." Magic was an energy that flowed through their veins, slowed down their aging, made them in tune with the elements and the impossibilities to make possible was a vast and infinite field and very few were capable of grasping the images in their minds to make it a reality.

Magic's weird.]

I'm not really sure how to demonstrate to be honest. Not without feeling like a I'm just a cheap magician trying to show off the trick up my sleeves, anyways.

[pragnanz]

[ Claude doesn't understand her assertion at all, that she calls powers beyond normal people "nothing special", as if her innate ability not being up to par with a certain standard makes it not worth showing. But then again, he also appreciates that it must be humility, how virtuous of her.

He's very much detached in his assessment of her, but his smile lingers for the ride. ]

So you're telling me to place some faith in your claim that you can use magic. I hope you can appreciate how ludicrous that may seem to someone who only casually knows of the concept.

[ Not that he particularly needs her to prove herself, of course. He knows she doesn't have to, that's the whole point of having agency. ]

For the sake of my sanity, I'll believe you.

[ Usually it would be the latter, but he's not going to push it. ]

[infusion]

Huh. That made it easy for me, I appreciate that.

[Because Iona doesn't think anyone here wants a lecture about a concept that's exclusively for witches and warlocks anyways. But there is another way...]

Actually...

[Iona places her right hand on the table.]

Here. You can examine this. For real this time.

[pragnanz]

Not afraid I'll put a scalpel in it?

[ Again: joking. He reaches out, places his cold palm under hers. ]

[infusion]

Even if you did...

[The chill of his palm meets the warmth of her hand.]

... It wouldn't do much.

[It's a warm hand of flesh and nothing more... For a few more seconds.

Blink and suddenly there's a clash of flesh and solid material and the weight of her hand feels heavier. Iona casually pulls up her sleeve with her left hand and the illusion of a smooth right arm gradually fades into something more unusual (an understatement). Along the arm there's a mix of thin thread like veins and larger spots of shimmering and flowing crystals not unlike multicolored opals.

Essentially, the arm is like a contents of a rock split open with its colorful mineral veins revealed and sitting on the surface of a human shaped arm and it changes, pulsing, and alive, the colors changing in the light at a constant rate.]

[pragnanz]

[ What he was expecting: not this.

He doesn't quite gape— that would be unbecoming— but his palm does twitch under hers, as though debating whether or not its safe to linger. The solidness and the steady beat of its magic clue him in to the fact that yes, this arm is very much real, as unbelievable and almost eerie as it is.

(Despite his disclaimer, yes, he'd love to see how it works, would want to dig beneath that surface and make sense of it in the only way he knows how— but not today.) ]

...It's stunning.

[ Is what he manages after a beat of silence, after he feels a bead of sweat trickle down his back. The world can surprise him, yet. ]

A shame you have to hide it.

[infusion]

Stunning... I'll take that as compliment.

[Iona is gazing at Claude carefully and gauging his reaction. While it's not outright shock, she can tell it was extremely unexpected. The appearance transforms, reverting back to a normal surface, but the weight and the pulse of magic energy doesn't quite disappear. Iona pulls back her arm to readjust the sleeve.]

So that's a kind of magic; illusion and concealment. Everything else you saw, is kind of its own story for another day.

[A beat. She reaches for her cup of coffee with her right hand and while it wasn't noticeable before, it may be more obvious now about how delicately she handles the object.]

We're human of course. But magic can be nasty if you don't know how to handle it and what you saw was a result of a messy situation and it ended up being an imperfect fix.

[With a sigh, she takes another sip of coffee.]

[pragnanz]

[ He releases a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding, a silent whistle that ruffles his bangs and loosens his expression just enough so that the arms-breadth smile fades. At heart, Claude only has a limited frame of reference for people (the only exception being his half-brother), and his rationalization of what he's just seen swerves towards more unflattering diagnoses: disease, malignancy, infection.

(Who knew that something so 'nasty' could be so beautiful?) ]

—Oh, I would've given a lot of things to be present for that particular operation.

[ He slumps in his chair, puts one soaked glove over his eyes to cool himself down. The smile flits on and off, but somehow manages to find itself again. ]

[infusion]

["... Impulse. I acted on it. You were dying."

His speech had changed. Before he spoke smoothly without a flaw in his voice.

"What would happen? No way of knowing."

From her bed, she stared at every little movement of his. Disjointed. Trembles. Shudders. Before, he was graceful and elegant.

"You live. Stay alive. I keep it that way."

❖❖

She avoids looking towards the kitchen in the back and stares into her coffee instead.]

... I wouldn't really have called it an operation. [SIGH.] I mean, it worked, but still.

[Iona puts down her cup and sets her arms across the table to rest her chin on them. She's looking at Claude levelly as if wanting to see if this position of hers would reveal a new perspective about this first time customer.

And then she innocently remarks:]

You know. You're a little twisted aren'tcha?

[pragnanz]

[ He's still somewhat shaken, but he eases, enough that he snorts a little at Iona's assessment of his character. Not with malice, but with a healthy amount of amusement. ]

What tipped you off?

[ His politeness slips for just a second, and then it's back; on and off, hot and cold. ]

You're kind, to buffer that with 'little'.

[infusion]

You didn't freak out when I removed the glamor. Was I expecting too much?

[Her head moves back and forth as she entertains her previous assumptions.]

Like, maybe I expected some flailing. Backwards skid of the chair. An, "Oh, shit!" could have been standard.

[Politeness? Her?? Well, she's a hospitable person, but graceful? HaHA.]

[pragnanz]

[ " Rule Number One: An Aubert never flinches.

Rule Number Two: An Aubert never plays by anyone else's rules.

Rule Number Three: An Aubert must be able to adjust to any and all unforeseen circumstances. "]

Old habits die hard.

[ Honestly, he could've forgotten about his family's teachings if it weren't so ingrained already. He answers her with a hearty laugh, plopping his glove back onto the table so he can lean forward again. ]

Is it too late to give you a reaction? I suppose that would be insincere. I'll have a written report of my innermost turmoil on your counter by tomorrow morning.

[infusion]

[Her cheeks puff up and she releases what can only be called a haughty huff before retorting.]

Yeah, the time to react with shock and horror at my freak show of an arm has expired, hon. No second chances for this one.

[Although, he does inadvertently remind her about wanting to set up a guestbook of sorts. (He may be one customer she remembers without it though)]

[pragnanz]

What an unreasonable assumption about my character. Any Mad Doctor worth his salt would have reacted with joy and unbridled curiosity, not shock and horror.

[ An inscrutable smile here: is he being serious? God, let's hope not.

(It's also a deflection, shh.) ]

No need to be so self-deprecating.

[infusion]

Well, when you put it that way, I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have showed you my arm. [Her lips are pursed, but then she looks nonplussed otherwise.] Eh. Come what may.

So, that's me. Witch and owner of a magic cafe. And here I am... [And she sweeps an arm towards Claude, almost theatrically so.]

... Talking to a doctor from 1879.

[pragnanz]

[ He returns that sweep with a bow, equally as theatrical. ]

Yours truly. Is that an invitation for me to reveal something scandalous about myself, I wonder.

[ A low hum. ]

I doubt I could say anything that matches up with what you've shown me.

[infusion]

I dunno. 1879 sounds like it could be a wild year. My grandmother definitely had fun during that century anyways...

[Her grandma be ollllld.]

Anyways... I guess I'd like to know something about you? [Rubbing her chin thoughtfully.] I mean, I shared about the witch thing since I'd look more like a fool trying to cover it up.

[pragnanz]

Something about me.

[ She's asked him the most difficult question that could be asked of him: not just because he, in essence, is sitting on years of carefully cultivated self-deprecation, but because most people don't care to ask. ]

Well. Here's a one-time only deal, then: ask me a question, and I'll answer as truthfully as I can manage.

[ This hinges on her trusting that he's honest (he's not), but there it is. ]