Don't Be Afraid To Be Who You Are - Isle Side

[missrecalled_mods]

The Rain Rain Rain Came Down Down Down

Just over a week after the Isle visit people would find themselves drawn outside. The weather was finally getting warmer, but that wasn't all of it. A strange foul smelling - and fairly toxic - mold had begun growing in some of the classrooms. Thankfully not the ones where people were sleeping but it was still enough to make it unpleasant to remain indoors. Some might blame the growth of the mold on a certain obsessive compulsive cleaner, though others might say that he just discovered it and accidentally gave it access to oxygen and such.

Whichever the reason, sleeping outside for a few days was sounding like a better and better plan with every passing minute. Even the drizzling weather couldn't make the indoors terribly appealing for anyone with a sense of smell.

And it was over night on one such night that the rain was... different. Warmer and a bit tingly. And some people would awaken quite a bit older than when they fell asleep, perhaps. Their memories might have caught up with their age, or might come to them slowly. However it happens, there might be some very confusing moments as those who seemed to be young just a moment before are now... less so.

Gift In Time Gift In Time Nary A Reason Nary A Rhyme Gift In Time!

Weirdly, there was something good to come not long after the rain. In addition to aging some folks up, it also seemed to wash away the worst of the mold, allowing people to return indoors once more. And each of them would find, soon after, in some place that they considered theirs... a small gift. It was rare that positive things happened on the Isle, but perhaps this was a sign of things to come.

Or perhaps even a broken clock is right once in a blue moon...

Comments

[dualityinjest]

The past while...
However disgusting the smell was, Sun wasn't joining anyone in going outside. To the entrance, perhaps, but not further than that, so long as it was drizzling. Just because he had a makeshift hood didn't mean he wanted to chance it... and for what? He had to be indoors at an outlet to recharge. And it wasn't like he could be affected by breathing whatever was so noxious in, when he didn't breathe. But more than that, this mess was intolerable, and he had to fix it!

Well, he was trying, anyway, using whatever scraps he could to scrape at the mold in a frantic effort to get rid of it, scrape it off the walls and into one of the trash bins he'd repurposed for collecting sludge.

He only stopped in his efforts, now and again, to return to the chair in the corner of Foulques's room to recharge for a while, and then went right back to it.

Gifts - OTA
One of those times he came in, paying no attention as usual to anything around him, intent on his goal -- the sooner he did this, the sooner he could get back to work! -- he paused before his chair. It wasn't empty. It was already occupied... by... plushies?

He wasted no time, ducking back out of the room and coming back in with a mostly-intact cardboard box. The toys were swiftly moved into it, and then the box was slid under the chair facing his, the one with his plastic crate of belongings sitting on top of it.

It was plausible deniability. He wasn't getting rid of them, in case they were somehow gifts. He was just... keeping them tidy. He didn't want to mess with them too much himself yet; he hadn't properly washed his hands, just wiped them clean on a rag. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

Anyone who came in would find him hugging his knees up to himself, his feet up on the other chair, big face turned down, hidden on his knees and against the wall, silent. If anyone who found him was being particularly observant and knew how to read his particular body language, they'd probably notice that his rays were tucked mostly into his head all around, not just where the edge of his faceplate met the wall.

If they wanted his attention, though... they'd probably have to either speak up a bit, or nudge him; he'd settled into a sort of lower-power mode to make time seem to pass more quickly for him, and therefore have less idle time in which to dwell on the toys. And of course it had some side effects, like dimming his shell's glow and muddying his senses....

[mist_the_point]

Having taken a little time to gather himself and pack the precious lute away under his desk-come-bed in its case, he turned his attention to Sun, who sat in his usual corner, seemingly attempting to make himself as small as his odd proportions would allow as he recharged. Given that he hadn't stirred while Foulques and Chara were talking, he suspected that Sun was truly 'asleep', or as close to it as he could be.

Fortunately, 'waking' him wouldn't actually interrupt his recharging, so Foulques felt no qualms about resting a hand on what passed for Sun's shoulder and speaking a bit louder than normal to draw him out. "Sun," he said, unable to suppress a small amused smirk at the joke he was about to make, "tis time to rise and shine."

[dualityinjest]

"...Mhh?" His voice came out a little odd at first, too quiet for how his tone sounded, but it didn't last long. Though his rays had pulled back in a little as the touch and voice registered, he relaxed again after only a very slight pause. Voiceprint recognized: Foulques. His rays slid back out most of the way as he lifted his head, reflexively moving one big hand up to wipe at his eyes in one of those gestures that really didn't make much sense, considering what he was, but wouldn't have seemed out of place at all, if not for that.

It sounded... an awful lot as though he was yawning, at first, the way his voice warped a little before settling into its usual tone. "Yeeeeaaaah, must be dawn already. 'S a welcome sight up there." Rub, rub... he shifted to sit up a little straighter... but didn't uncurl yet, his rays sinking back in a little as he tucked his chin down onto his knees again, even as he tilted his face up to see the lancer. He might've been joking around already, but he was still just as poor a liar as ever: he wasn't actually in a great mood. That, or he was just still too sleepy to be his usual enthusiastic self? ...Maybe. Possibly.

[mist_the_point]

"Not quite dawn, but morning, yes," he said. "And a better one than most on this god-forsaken Isle. I suspect you've been hard at work while most of us have been largely forced to avoid the indoors, but thankfully a... highly unusual rain passed through during the night and cleared away much of the mold. It had other effects as well, but I expect that one to be the most immediately relevant to you."

After a moment, he added, "No one is angry with you, you know. Well, perhaps the old virago, but there seems to be very little in the world that doesn't earn a glare from her, so her opinion isn't to be counted."

[dualityinjest]

Sun seemed to sink at that regardless, rays retracting a little again. "I was doing what I could to get rid of it, I swear...." Quieter, "Sorry. I had to. It isn't all clean yet, and--" He didn't finish his sentence. Foulques might catch the way he was already starting to rub the shiny surface of his pants near his knee, a fidget that wasn't as smooth a motion as it could've been. "I thought-- I was cleaning. It shouldn't have-- I was trying to get rid of it, and--" He looked away, putting his faceplate back down on his knees. "I'm sorry. At least it's gone now...? But what if it happens again? I have to keep cleaning; it's not done yet, and-- and--" He left off that part of his sentence again, sliding one of his hands up to hold the edge of his head. "I didn't-- I don't want to start trouble...."

Foulques OTA

[mist_the_point]

Gifts

It was a day for strange occurrences, it seemed. The unusual rain had served dual purposes, both magical and mundane. The magical he would leave til a bit later. The mundane, at least, served to allow them to spend extended periods back inside the school, for which he was grateful. Heading back to the room he shared with Sun and Chara, he sought to make certain that nothing had been damaged by either mold or water. He certainly didn't expect to find anything new there.

But something new there was, namely an old leather instrument case sitting on the desk that served as his bed. The case, though worn, had clearly been well cared for, which made it markedly different from the Isle's castoffs. And moreover it looked... familiar. "No...", he muttered in disbelief. "Surely not..." It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. And yet...

He walked over and carefully undid the case's clasps, but hesitated to open it. After a moment's thought, he removed his gauntlets before resting bare hands on the stiffened leather of the case's surface. The feel of it confirmed that while unadorned, it was well made and well kept. The sense of familiarity only grew.

It was with hands that trembled faintly that he finally opened the case, revealing that it contained exactly what its shape had suggested; a lute. Similar to the case, the lute was largely unadorned, but clearly- to those who knew a bit about stringed instruments- well made and maintained, the wood polished so that it nearly glowed even in the unflattering glow of the school's lights. The color in particular stood out, having a deeper, almost reddish hue to it: commonplace for instruments like violins perhaps, but one rarely seen in a lute. It gave it a warm appearance, which should have been comforting, but Foulques stared at it as if he'd seen a ghost. "Rosewood," he said, half to himself. "A rosewood lute. But that's... It can't..."

Reaching out to touch the lute itself, he noticed his hand trembling even more, and clenched them briefly into fists to try and halt it, sucking in a breath and exhaling slowly to try and calm himself. He was only marginally successful, but it would have to do. Carefully, he ran his fingers along the grain of the polished wood, before gently lifting the lute from its case, acting as if it might fall apart or vanish if handled too roughly. Removing the instrument revealed what he'd seen peeking out from beneath the neck, namely a simple book of sheet music, but he wasn't focused on that at the moment.

Instead he was focused on the instrument itself. There was one sure way to know if the impossibly familiar instrument was what it seemed to be. Taking another deep breath in hopes of steadying his nerves, Foulques turned the instrument over examining the underside f the neck. And there, near where it met the main body of the instrument, were carved two letters: A P. A set of initials, short for Anthelme Palissandre; his father's name. This lute, somehow, against all reason and possibility, was the self same one that had been his father's most cherished possession for as long as Foulques could recall.

He cradled the now infinitely precious instrument gently to his chest as if it were a baby, visibly trembling a bit, his head bowed over it. And though he was quiet, a teardrop fell onto the polished rosewood. Then a second. In a moment he would remember that there were likely eyes on him. But right in that moment? For once, it didn't matter.

Re: Foulques OTA

[fallen_child]

Chara had followed Foulques into the room. At first the child found the book of snail facts. They had teared up a little and had turned to show it to Foulques but saw him, and stopped. Chara looked at big brother crying then down at the book. What would Mrs. Mom Lady do?

Chara climbed up on the desk Foulques used as a bad, careful not to drop the book. Then once they were sitting on the bed next to big brother, they opened the book, picked a line and took a breath. Then Chara read out loud. "Seventy Two uses for snails. Did you know that snails... make terrible shoelaces?" Chara asked, unintentionally copying Toriel's specific pace and softening their voice the way Toriel always did when she was trying to cheer the children up.

[mist_the_point]

Foulques retained enough awareness to notice Chara climbing up on the desk/bed next to him, but didn't immediately look up. At the sound of their voice though, and even more so the words they said, he glanced up to see them reading from a book. He gave a somewhat brittle-sounding chuckle at the sheer absurdity of it. "Yes, I imagine they do," he said, his voice a bit thick. "Either when used directly, or as artisans."

He carefully returned the lute to its case and wiped his eyes, taking a deep, somewhat shaky breath. "I see I'm not the only one who received an unexpected gift," he said. Than added, "I didn't mean to worry you. I simply... never thought I would see this instrument again."

[fallen_child]

Chara considered that and closed the book, hugging it. "IT is important to you?" Chara asked, softly.

[mist_the_point]

"Less so the instrument than its former owner," he said, "but as I lost both in the same moment, seeing either again is rendered especially potent." He paused briefly, gently wiped away the teardrops before they had a chance to mar the wood, taking the moment to gather his thoughts and decide how he wished to explain them. Chara didn't need to know all the grim details surrounding the incident, but they did deserve some explanation.

"This lute belonged to my father," he said. "He was a bard, you see, and this lute was his most cherished possession for as long as I can recall. He never gained any great renown outside of our little community and perhaps a few of the surrounding villages and taverns, but none who heard him perform could fail to be moved by it. I spent many a peaceful evening as a child, sitting by the fire, listening to him play and sing, or spinning tales of daring heroes and far off lands. Even after an injury cost him much of the use of his arm, he still kept the instrument in good repair, giving it to a friend to play while he sang; naught could extinguish his love of music or a well told tale."

Zuko - OTA

[awkward_turtleduck]

The Rain Rain Rain Came Down Down Down

Zuko was less than pleased to finally be forced out of the school. He'd put up with the foul smell until he'd started to feel ill, before finally packing up his meagre belongings and abandoning the classroom. He paced the area around the school looking for anywhere remotely sheltered to last out the night, his mood near fouler than the mold at this point. He wasn't the only one escaping the rancor of the school, and that only put him more on edge.

He'd decided to wait it out, leaned against the shadowed back side of the school, his pack tucked between him and the stone wall. He crossed his arms and glared out into the night, determined to outlast his own exhaustion. Especially when the first few drops of rain bloomed on the ground by his feet. He felt the frustration boiling higher under his skin, but even as his anger simmered his eyelids drooped heavier and heavier. His last thought was that the sleep claiming him seemed unnatural, then he was gone.

When he blinked back to awareness the first thing he took note of was the uncomfortable damp clinging to his clothes and weighing down his hair. The second was that said hair hanging in his eyes had not been there when he fell asleep. He pulled the bangs down to stare in confusion, before pushing them out of his eyes and checking over the rest of his person and belongings. His old travelling rags were gone, replaced by far more comfortable casual fire nation robes. Red, pants and short sleeves, covered by a darker red tunic trimmed in yellow gold. Tall dark boots with a comfortable soul and a strip of yellow gold running down the front.

"What in Agni's name?" It was familiar to him, the way a half remembered dream was. Those weird visions he'd had when he first arrived, of being on seemingly good terms with the Avatar and his friends, of Mai yelling at him, telling him they were over, of being trapped somewhere cold, of standing up to his father. It was fractured still, but it felt... truer, than it had to him before. He shook his head, something to worry about later, for now, he needed to find somewhere to dry off.


Gift In Time Gift In Time Nary A Reason Nary A Rhyme Gift In Time!

It didn't take him long to realize that the mold had magically disappeared seemingly overnight, the same way his hair had grown and his clothes had changed. Spirits, he really hated this Agni-scorned island. But at least access to a dry classroom was a small blessing.

He found it while he was checking through his bag, to make sure nothing had gone missing while he slept. He pulled out his sleeping roll, and from the bottom of his pack a familiar waft that made his stomach curdle as the smell hit his nose. He stepped back, eyes watering, and swore loudly, tried to, at least. How in Agni's name- He pulled his new tunic to cover his nose and reached in to retrieve, sure enough, his uncle's filthy old slipper.

He stared at it, utterly confused, and a little put out by it appearing in his bag of all places. He'd never get the smell out. He held it as far from himself as he could, pinched lightly between his thumb and his forefinger. He turned it slowly. Aside from the bottom of it being absolutely cacked in mud, or- he hoped it was mud, nothing seemed out of the ordinary about it. He sighed, going to drop it in a corner until he could decide if it was worth keeping, or if he should just go throw it into the ocean.

He paused as it his the floor, a tiny clink of sound pulling his attention. He kicked the slipper upside down, leaning in to look more closely at the muck, coughing even through his shirt. Sure enough, a tiny sliver of white tile was just distinguishable between gunky treads.

He huffed. Nothing was ever easy for him, was it? A few experimental pokes and prods proved whatever the object was, it would not easily be dislodged, and he stood with another frustrated shout, kicking the wall for good measure.

The likelihood someone had overheard his frustrations as they were reclaiming the school were probably pretty high. He hadn't considered this probability, so anyone poking their head in the door was sure to surprise the guy. Though they were just as likely to get a surprise in the smell department as soon as they opened the door.

Re: Zuko - OTA

[professorsong]

River poked her head in to see what the shouting was. Despite the smell she grinned. "That angry about your new hair cut, sweetie? I know some girls who would die to have their hair grow as fast as yours."

Re: Zuko - OTA

[awkward_turtleduck]

Zuko startled, whirling to face the doorway, and dropping into a defensive stance. Immediately, a scowl crossed his face, and he settled his weight a bit more neutrally, though his shoulders remained tense. "Why are you here?"

He ignored her comment about his hair, though his eyebrow twitched and his scowl deepened.

Re: Zuko - OTA

[professorsong]

"Small island? Not much else to do to entertain myself?" She shrugged. "Take your pick."

Absolutely not out and about because she can't handle emotionally the fact that she found what she found in her room with no sign of the husband it belonged to. Nope.

Re: Zuko - OTA

[awkward_turtleduck]

He scoffed. "You could entertain yourself in a different room of the small island that isn't mine." He muttered it under his breath, but small spaces with nothing to absorb sound did not favour a muttering remaining unheard.

He paced back over to the slipper and scowled down at it. A soak in a bucket of water maybe... He looked back to River. "I pick that you leave me alone. I'm busy."

[a_little_fun_instead]

Rain

Jack already spent most of his time outside, so the mold wasn't a huge issue for him. He worried about the mortals being forced out into the damp and the dirt though. He asked around amongst some of the less prickly folks to see if he could be of help.

Once the rain started, he found himself drifting down towards the beach. He'd found the little fishing shack on the sand, and he liked to sit up on the roof and watch the waves. Watch for the moon. It was too cloudy tonight, but he still found himself leaning back and letting the warm rain fall against his closed eyelids.


Gifts

When he woke, he found himself curled around a basket he certainly hadn't had when he fell asleep. He sat up, peering into it curiously. Were those- they were! Easter eggs! And he frowned, he'd have to take a moment later to try and analyze why he was so excited to see those here. He and the Easter Bunny were not known to get along. Or... were they? It felt like he was forgetting something important, and yet at the same time he felt just a little more settled in his skin than he was used to.

He shook the thoughts away and peered closer at the eggs. They looked cheap, not the usual quality for Bunny, and some of the designs were certainly... interesting. Though, as he looked in more detail, something started to form in his mind, just the little beginning of an idea. He took the little blue egg decorated in snowflakes and held it up to his eye. It was obviously intended for him, but did that mean, that each of the other little eggs also had a home? He tucked his egg back with the others. Only one way to find out.

He started back towards the school, making a point to approach anyone he came across on the way.

[professorsong]

Gifts River was heading out to the beach to stretch her legs. And to keep from having to deal with any of the emotions she felt over finding a fez in her hideaway that morning. Nope no feelings here. Stupid hat. Not like she was keeping it or anything. Absolutely not. She just fancied a walk, that was all.

Totally the only reason she was heading to the beach.

[fallen_child]

Rain

Chara had been wandering around to get away from the smell. And the presumption that they would be expected to help clean up whatever caused it. After all, they were still a kid. But there were only so many places to go when trying to avoid Foulques without looking like they were avoiding Foulques. But there was always the beach. If Mr. Chell was there then Chara could sit with him and maybe help fish, then they would be doing something and no one could complain they weren't doing chores! It was perfect.

Except they didn't see Mr. Chell. But they heard motion on top of the shed, confused they looked up, then stumbled back terrified and angry.

What was a human doing here?!

[elvendryad]

Chell was, as ever, easy to find, should anyone try. Or even if they weren't trying. He'd be working on dismantling a thornbush or two for wood, in the area he'd been concentrating his efforts previously... or out fishing. The rain hadn't seemed to do much to him; perhaps the fresh water was simply what he'd needed, being a tree-based creature. A few tiny leaves were starting to form in his twig-crown, not just tiny hints of green buds among the small black orbs that were the growing berries... but his cloak was looking bushier too, thicker and a little brighter.

If there had been any other effects from it, he wasn't mentioning such.

Gifts, though....

He found his when he went to check on the stew pot. If someone were to peek into that room, they'd find him sitting a little distance from the makeshift hearth, legs crossed in front of him, an embroidered quilt somewhat open over his lap as he inspected it. He was silent, not looking up from it just yet, intent on the needlework portraits of... well, they were people, certainly, but one would surely need to ask, to find out more.

[fallen_child]

Gifts

Having been sent by Foulques to find Chell, Chara was looking for him while clutching a book. Finding Chell where Chell usually was, Chara headed over then stopped short. "Are you good crying too?" Chara asked, suddenly unsure.

Ian Wright | OTA | CW: trauma, PTSD. Guilt

[ubuntu_programmer]

A Little Fall Of Rain

Ian wasn't really the sleep outside sort. But that scent sent even them out. Though they had secured their equipment as much as possible, and they kept going back in as often as they could hand it, shirt over their face like a mask. To keep mold off the equipment and make sure no one has stolen anything. Sleep was mostly sitting up against a the wall of the school, as near to the door as they could manage, knees up and head on knees. Just a little Ian huddle with body language that screams "Keep Away". Often there will be a blanket involved awkwardly because huddling in a blanket is fine but sleeping means blankets sometimes slip. Not that there are a ton of people here likely to want to "tuck in" a near stranger...

Gift in... TIME?!

Finally able to go back in should have been enough to make Ian thrilled. But as soon as Ian woke up, hair slightly longer with some red in the tips, the programmer hardly seemed to notice. They moved swiftly, rushing past people and back to their room. They scrambled around quickly looking for an intact notebook and a pen. Thy found a sharpie first instead. There was almost a second of hesitation then the need to get this down beat out all other considerations.

Ian began on the blackboard first, but it soon expanded to the section of wall on either side. Then the desk they used as a bed was shoved aside as that whole wall became writing space. Soon the board and two walls were utterly. Covered. With. Code.

Ian moved like one obsessed scribbling it all down as fast as they could, frantic. Desperate. So fixated that they hadn't yet noticed the Dark Souls blanket. Nor that they had left the door open.

Gift

[mist_the_point]

As it was fairly nearby, Ian's room was one of the first Foulques visited after leaving his own. What he saw when he got there, however, had him pausing in the doorway. Ian had scribbled- and was scribbling- all over the blackboard and two of the room's walls. Letters. Words. Numbers. Symbols. It looked, to him, like the scribbled ravings of a madman. But given what the sort of code Ian worked with tended to look like to him, he wasn't going to immediately assume they'd lost their grip on sanity.

Instead, he cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence. "I didn't think you the type to add to the general level of graffiti around here," he said dryly.

Re: Gift

[ubuntu_programmer]

"Not graffiti at all," Ian said, distracted. "And actually very classified, but I have to get this all down before I lose any of it. Can you find me a curtain or something to hide it. But... I need to keep writing before I forget any of it, sorry."

[mist_the_point]

"Given that your work resembles nothing so much as it does the scrawlings of a madman, I suspect that whatever secrets it holds are quite safe, even in the open," he said dryly. "Still, tis good to know you haven't actually taken leave of your senses."

He glanced around and spotted what looked like a neatly folded blanket on the battered chaise. Not big enough to cover all of it, but if all of this was necessary for... whatever Ian needed it for, then hiding at least part of it was better than nothing. He retrieved the blanket and unfurled it, only to see that it bore the image of... was that some sort of knight? They had a sword, in any case, but it was difficult to tell because of the grim message superimposed over the image. "'You died?'", he read aloud, evidently puzzled. "What is this meant to be, a burial shroud?"

[ubuntu_programmer]

"What?" Ian asked, distracted for a moment. They glanced back. "Hy that's my Dark Souls blanket from Ho... home. From home. That'll cover some of it if we have a way to hang it."

Of course that explained exactly nothing.