[OPEN]

[chronosynthesis]

WHO: Syrlya and You
WHAT: Syrlya gets cursed, and then has one bad day after another so he runs away to the hotsprings
WHEN: ~few days after the spring dance until last day of spring. Closed prompts through end of Summer
WHERE: The farm, around town, the hotsprings
WARNINGS: There is NSFW in these parts

[Do Not Agitate the Goddess (mute) | Edge of the Woods + His Farm]

[Syrlya gave it a few days, at least didn't confront the Goddess about her questionable habits at the dance itself. It doesn't go terribly well.

He marches away from the pond, his expression is twisted into a scowl and fists balled. Anyone who crosses his path in the immediate aftermath is met with irritation, and then a pointed turn of his face away as he marches down the path.

After a few hours he's had some time to cool off--though he's still sulking, toiling on his farm ripping up weeds and pushing new seeds into the dirt. If they didn't have to do this to eat, he'd let this goddess know right where she can--]

[Twice cursed (blind) | Other people's farms]

[Luckily, going mute only lasts for a day, and then it's back to normal. For a couple days, at least. Until he wakes one morning to the room being strangely dark, like the sun itself was snuffed out--no, but it isn't the sun that's the problem. It's his eyes.

The morning is a panic. A level of fear he doesn't often feel as he's suddenly lost the sense most important to him.

The first trip is a stumble to the clinic... unsurprisingly, when dealing with a talking plant it doesn't offer any answers except that they, at least, don't seem to be injured. Nobody there accuses the goddess, but an errant magical effect... Syrlya can only think of one person who is capable.

So, his option is to wait it out for now, see if it clears up on its own. That is... not optimal. But ultimately Syrlya can't find any better options.

Doesn't mean he can't try and do what he needs to. So, using a glittering sword as a makeshift walking stick (watch your feet) Syrlya strides out of the farmhouse.

Or rather, trips out of it, hitting a few walls along the way. And then he's on a truly blind path, tripping and crawling over other people's fences with no real idea of his orientation. Just where he thinks it is. The warmth of the sun isn't helping him as much as he wishes it did.

Anyway. Sorry if he tramples your flowers.]


[Make That Thrice Cursed (table) | The Town]

[The blidnness clears up after two days as if it never happened. So not a malady after all, it seems. So Syrlya goes into town to finish errands he intended to before the weekend. He's just headed down the street with a bag of groceries more varied than the limited vegetables from their garden... when it hits.

A plastic folding end table drops seemingly from thin air and smacks right onto his head. Syrlya buckles with a startled cry, his bag tumbling out of his arms and spilling to the ground.]

((His plotting post is over here if you want a more custom starter or simply something else!))

Comments

for Konoe

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya still remembers he owes Konoe an ice cream... adventure. Not a date. So after a confirmation in the morning Syrlya makes another round to Konoe's farm to collect him in the afternoon to wander down the beach. He's been advised to visit the traveling stand on the beach, and Syrlya would rather pay for single portions anyway.

He isn't really dressed for the beach, but he doesn't seem uncomfortable as they walk over the sand.] I think I see it is the distance.

[He points, to the colorful cart that has people lined up. Unsurprisingly, cold ice cream is popular on a warm beach.]

[kuim]

[Konoe, having never heard of ice cream before they'd decided on it, but has since asked around for specifics, starts off fairly excited about it as they make their way to the beach. From an island himself, he's never actually been to the shores of his homeland; but he thinks they're far more rocky than this if the maps are to be believed. He's gotten rid of his cape at this point, but remains otherwise still not dressed appropriately for a beach outing either. He's more careful traipsing across the sand, making sure to keep his tail out of it, for... reasons. It doesn't smell like a sand pile, but one can't be too careful.]

Mm?

[He looks up from his inspection of the beach sand when Syrlya points out the ice cream cart. Oh, it's pretty; inviting colours, and people certainly looking like they're enjoying themselves, walking away from the cart with... what were they called... cones. Cones with the scoops of frozen cream on top.]

There's so many different ones!

[Look, that guy has three scoops of different flavours - amazing!]

[chronosynthesis]

[Konoe's innocent wonder cracks a smile out of Syrlya. It reminds him of a Sapling--of being a Sapling, when the world was fresh and every discovery was invigorating and tangible to his senses in a way he hadn't known before. He seen it in others, too, but Konoe wears it so openly the the familiarity is refreshing.] You're right, I wonder how many are on the menu today? One looks like chocolate.

[kuim]

Chocolate.

[He pronounces it like he's never heard of it before, which he hasn't. As they get closer in line, he can start to smell and distinguish the different flavours from each other, but they're all unfamiliar. Except maybe... Yes. He knows that one.]

One of them smells like strawberries, I think.

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya supposes those cat-like features are more than just a visual difference, even if his face is much more human than a Charr.

He fishes the gold coins from his pocket, counting them out.] Most likely, fresh fruit is a popular addition to ice cream. Will you be doing three different flavors as well?

for Trahearne

[chronosynthesis]

[By the end of the week, Syrlya cannot wait to just go deep in the mountains and escape from all of this. He ensures that Trahearne knows to be ready the next day (he refuses to go into details what had him to harried), then returns to his house to back up a bag with suitable supply for two nights of camping.

Bright and early the following morning, Syrlya is knocking against the door.] Trahearne? Are you in?

[pactmarshal]

[ Of course he's in!

There's scarcely a moment after the knock that the door swings open, Trahearne's face brilliant with a smile. The excitement palpably rolls off him--he has evidently been looking forward to this. He is none the wiser to Syrlya's no good very bad week. ]

Hello, Commander!

[ Slung over his shoulder is a pack of essentials of his own. This is old hat for both of them.

He steps through the door and closes it behind him. ]

Shall we? I'm eager to know where you have in mind.

[chronosynthesis]

[He's so cheerful. Syrlya ends up really smiling in return.

He takes a step back to give Trahearne room, then holds up a rolled map.] There's a hotspring deep within the mountains that should be fairly secluded. An ideal change of scenery for a 'weekend getaway'.

[pactmarshal]

A hot spring?

[ Trahearne tilts his head, looking back and forth between Syrlya and the map. ]

I can't say I was expecting that, but you're right--it does sound like the ideal change of scenery.

[ It'd be nice to forget about everything and everyone else for a few days.

He reaches for Syrlya's shoulder in an encouraging gesture. ]

Lead the way.

twice cursed

[for8000amonth]

[ he prefers to not be out for too long in the sun, but regrettably, it offers far better conditions than the night itself. he never knew how easily it was to see things under proper light all the time, and so he begrudges it to get to work.

dressed in something far more suitable for the task, he's hardly paying much attention to his surroundings- idly picking up some of the newly sprouted produce with an eyeball of apprehension. he still doesn't really think things are supposed to grow that fast, but at this point, he's seen weirder things.

the figure out of the corner of his eye is dismissed as a passing neighbor, and not worth his current attention...at least, until adelis is interrupted by said neighbor tripping over his fence.

his head snaps up, staring in bewilderment before the realization he knows said neighbor actually hits. and that's when he gets to his feet, leaving his basket on the ground to squint through the sunlight. ]

...Syrlya. [ with a sword?? no less?? ] What in Solyma's name are you doing?

[chronosynthesis]

Huh? [Syrlya grabs for the fence to pull himself up. He does not turn around, squinting at nothing as he orients himself.] Adelis? Oh, this is your farm! ... I am not going the right way, am I.

[He should be out of the game by now, not tripping over their fences, shouldn't he? Hm.]

[for8000amonth]

[ this is...certainly a sight, isn't it. he merely watches for a few moments rather than moving, noting the very obvious problems here ( the body language, the lack of eye contact, the bewildered squinting- ), before he finally opts to comment. ]

I doubt it. Unless, of course, it was your intention to have an rather intimate meeting with my fence.

[ this is embarrassing to watch, he'll be honest. which is why adelis eventually lets out a exasperated sigh before bothering with trekking over.

he's kind of got an idea of what's going on here, just based on what he's seeing, but to be sure.... ]

I'm going to assume there's a particular reason you're bumbling about like a drunk?

[chronosynthesis]

[He sags against the fence. That bad, huh. No, Syrlya knew he was struggling--he was just determined to keep going anyway.

He bows his head, reluctant to really admit to his weakness. But he should be honest.] ... My vision seems to have left me suddenly. I can't see a thing right now.

for Adelis

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya realizes that Adelis has become someone he could call a friend (though perhaps not to his face for Adelis' sake). He gets along well, and for all Adelis' sharp edges... he's extended the same hand as Syrlya, even without being asked. That's something he can trust.

His sight returning is a welcome relief, and he takes the opportunity after to pass by Adelis' farm and thank him for the assistance. Not that he hasn't already, but it seems pertinent to do so when he isn't still afflicted. And it's a casual offer at the time: perhaps they can provide each other some proper assistance with these bingo cards as well. Many are things he is reluctant to do with any random person, and a clean exchange of squares means they don't have any open favors.

It's agreeable, so Syrlya makes a second stop in the evening, before the sun has set completely, to compare cards. At the hour, the teal glow under Syrlya's leaves has already begun to pulse.

He raps his knuckles against the door.]

[for8000amonth]

[ While he's certainly learned a few names and faces by now, there are few he'd admit to be willing to engage with on a near-daily basis. Not to say there are none, but it's not a particularly high number at this point. Still, he can accept a tolerable face and presence when they show up, and Syrlya is one of the few he finds he doesn't mind.

The thanks did get old and perhaps a bit grating, but that much, he chokes down. This is the only person who knows of his affliction, and he'd rather not seek out more than necessary. When the offer is made, he accepts it with little fanfare- it's beneficial to the both of them, and he's hardly the type to to decline any sort of benefit.

Hair tied up and hands bare are the only differences when he answers the rap at his door, and he only pauses for a few seconds this time to ascertain his guest is who he wants it to be- and then the door swings open on it's well-oiled hinges. ]

Good evening. [ if there's the barest flicker of surprise at the other's rather...luminescent state, it's covered up fairly quickly as he steps aside and gestures for him to enter. ] No fences were harmed in your approach this time, I hope.

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya's expression twists, torn between the lingering embarrassment and humor.] Not even scuffed.

[He steps inside, giving the entrance a look around--idly curious about the kind of living situation Adelis has for himself now.]

[for8000amonth]

[ his lip quirks in amusement at that. hopefully whatever embarrassment lingers will be enough to deter him from similar outings in the future.

despite having yet to spend some rewards on the upkeep, it’s surprising clean and well-put together. someone is clearly a neat-freak around here. ]

I’ve little idea where my esteemed roommate is, but I doubt he’ll be around to bother. [ a few steps inside and he gestures towards the table, where two still-steaming mugs sit. it smells faintly herbal inside the house. ] Take a seat, then. We’ll get nowhere standing about.

for Mishka (Summer)

[chronosynthesis]

[Abandoned mine, huh? Perhaps it's a stretch, but Syrlya wonders if they can't find more answers from a source that isn't the goddess' mouth about just what is up with this place that she's importing people to get married. Perhaps since the mine has been so recently untouched, more may be left behind that on the farms.

And, well... if he manages to find a few gemstones to pocket along the way, he'll consider that a reward for the effort. So he's at the entrance, testing the switch on a flashlight as he prepares to descend down there with a pack and his sword.

Fascinating device, more useful than a torch or lantern. Sorry if he accidentally shines it right in your eyes, Mishka.]

[yourlenore]

( This place is nice - idyllic, even - and that makes it novel. Still, for someone who grew up in claustrophobic darkness, an invitation to explore the mines was too comfortable to pass up.

He'd intended to do a cursory investigation before returning with others - especially given he was short on his usual arsenal and unnatural abilities - and he'd come geared up with something resembling an explorer's pack.

His footsteps quiet, he'd approached the entrance with uncanny silence, taking notice of a strange - person? already there.

His silent approach comes to a startling stop when he gets light right in his eyes. Crunch goes the stick underfoot. )

Ah - need you help with your lantern?

( RUBBING HIS POOR EYES... He has no clue what that thing is, just that it's blinded him, so he assumes it's a lantern. )

[chronosynthesis]

Oh! [Whoops. He clicks the flashlight off.] Apologies, I was simply testing it. Didn't want to go in there with a broken light source.

[yourlenore]

( They sure make bullseye lanterns powerful these days... But now that he can properly see, he can register what - sorry, who - he's seeing. His eyebrows raise. )

Of course-- Now, you'll have to forgive me for asking, but to satiate my curiosity... Are you one with the land?

( leaf s )

For Adelis (Summer 30)

[chronosynthesis]

[Well. For as wary as he was about the concept of the date auction, what little he did know about Adelis and Mishka's relationship hadn't prepared him to expect that. It's not really Syrlya's responsibility or fault, but he can't help a pang of guilt for it anyway.

More than that, though... He feels sympathy for Adelis' stress. So, he ends up leaving the auction as well before the event is over, and makes a detour to the grocery before he arrives at the door of Adelis' farm.

A few firm knocks, and once Adelis opens the door he's holding a bottle of red wine and a bottle of whiskey in his hand.] Hi. I wasn't sure which one you'd prefer. May I come in?

[for8000amonth]

[ He does try to keep his anger in check. He has gotten better at it, over the years- but it's been a while since it's blown and boiled over like that, in such a way it leaves his cold skin nearly running hot from the force of his furiously beating heart.

Adelis nearly debates on going and mutilating some trees in the woods, to at least blow off some kind of steam- but he just ends up storming home, slamming the door so hard the windows nearly rattle from the force. The water on his face in an attempt to calm himself does little, and so the knock at the door comes while he's furiously rummaging through his cupboards for a more preferable, familiar form of coping.

He doesn't want to deal with anyone right now. If he sees a certain someone at his door, he's also liable to commit a crime on his doorstep. But after a few seconds of waiting, he finally decides he might as well check-

He isn't really expecting what he finds.

There's a moment he just stares at the other man, before letting his gaze flit between the bottles in his hands. He doesn't need any pity, is what he tries to tell himself. He doesn't need sympathy or a caring hand, and he can deal with this on his bloody own-

...But something in him hesitates, and he opens the door, regardless. ]

Hurry up, then.

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya bows his head, half a nod as he enters the farmhouse. His gaze drifts to the kitchen, then to Adelis for only a second chance of confirmation before he goes anyway to set the bottles on the table.]

You're free to keep these if we don't finish them off. I admit whiskey isn't my favorite. [But, maybe the bite of it is what's needed to soothe the sour heart.]

[for8000amonth]

[ Adelis says nothing as Syrlya steps inside, merely giving a blank nod of acceptance as he places the bottles on the table. The door closes, and he strides back over to the cabinet, pulling out two glasses this time without a hint of gentility.

At least he doesn't slam them on the table. He's not in the mood to replace anything. ]

I'll drink it, then. [ It's steadily become his favorite, after all. A burn on the mind and the throat. ] But don't take that offer back.

[ For once, he's not arguing about it. ]