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....

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.

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.

[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.

[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.

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.