Your OC Is Having A Sleepover With The OC Above

Posted 3 years, 9 months ago (Edited 1 year, 8 months ago) by Vapor

RULE UPDATE [8/5/2022]

Let's have a slumber party! It's cold in my room and I cannot stop sleeping. I might as well think about fake people sleeping while I'm at it.

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Maribelle Burnett (6041) Vapor

Ring ring ring ring.

Banana phone.

Degare offered one slice of fruit to 6s. Not banana, unfortunately, but clementines worked just as well, and they had too impressive of an array to just leave it at two. Citrus, starfruit, kiwis, lychees purchased from the coastal villages of the Balarazi Province merely for the occasion. He didn't have sleepovers so often. Especially not at his home – he was hesitant to allow her at his seaside cottage for more than three hours, as unkind as it might have been.

But, he liked them. Every ounce someone intelligent in both academics and just simple brightness, their company was appreciated in every instance he could find it. They were a writer. They had a life full of hope ahead of them, certainly. Whenever he looked at them, he could not help but smile.

..It kind of sucked that they were beating his ass at Scrabble, though.

The glow of the television illuminated the edges of his hand as he made his mark on the board. The word “honey” shouldn't have been so difficult for him to conjure, but here he was, focused intently, his eyes narrowed behind the glint of his glasses. It could have been threatening, but in truth it was anything but. The most it did was aid in concealing his exasperation. His sigh, however, betrayed his fatigue.

“How many points is that for you now?” Degare asked upon a thinning laugh, looking at her again, “You’re going to have to explain the rules to me again, I swear it, or… maybe you rigged the game?” A notion meant to tease her. That was it. He hesitated, holding a C tile between his fingers. “I didn't think it would be… like… your little games are so interesting and yet so–”

It couldn't be frustrating. Goddamn it, he was in his university's chess team. He would never falter.

But then, he sighed again.

“How about I make a little rooibos for us?” Degare suggested, “..Or… for me? I can never if… well. It will help me relax, at least. I'm getting old. I need the herbal help… ha.”

@ NP: Feel free to respond to his other (dated) tabs if you want, or his main profile, go crazy.

hi . followup for mandy dandy candy

"Good tea, good chair, good walls, good company."

Degare's words were one of concurrence, but a quarter of encouragement. He did not react much to Mandragora beyond that, but her anxiety was not lost on him. All he could do for her was to lift her spirits in the ways he knew how: speaking to her, giving her shelter, giving her tea, merely existing and engaging with her when Gendelfa was away wherever she was. He had seen the two of them together quite often these days that it seemed almost odd to him that they were apart. But, no matter.

The professor smiled at her, calmly, as he set his own cup of tea aside. Rooibos again, sweetened with honey. The light scent of it wafted upwards with the steam, fogging his glasses as he readjusted himself in his armchair. A few books, touched and untouched, sat by his opposite elbow. One was opened to a page on planetary density and formation, studies he needed to look over if only because he was constantly looking to improve his own. He was at the head of Ophesian astronomy, some liked to say, but...

Mandragora needed these things, too. She needed something to call herself, to call her own. If only he could get her to attend Belokovra's university, then all would be wonderful. Surely. Hopefully. His smile grew thin, but not weary.

"I'll happily look over your manuscripts, Mandragora. You know me." He took a sip of his tea first, reveling in the sweet warmth of it. Red tea always made him a bit sleepy. Its presence was enough to help him. He hoped his own presence was enough to help her.

"Hand them to me." he continued, setting his cup aside before leaning in, "I'm always willing to read what you have to say. Or, hear what you have to say. Why, you should know better than to worry this much about me or whatever I have going on -- anything negative you think that I think in regards to you... well, you've been around me for quite some time now. Don't fret."

Mandragora ProfessionalDumbass

Vapor

Mandragora was always thankful for some respite from sleeping on a thin sheet in the middle of the woods, primarily due to the inherent safety that came with walls, locked windows, and light that did not create smoke in a meaningful way. The warmth, food, cushioning of a couch, and the company were all just bonuses. Especially the last one, because Degare was the one who allowed Mandragora such niceties. Once again, he had given Mandragora such kindness she was not accustomed to, and it was baffling. But despite the befuddlement, it was a constant.

Mandragora lifted the teacup to her lips; having discarded her arm braces and various weapons, she felt far lighter than before. She supposed it was also due to the relaxing drink and the professor's presence, who was enjoying tea of their own. The khanite looked between the tea and her close friend with quick eye movements, her head not moving an inch. Gendelfa had often pointed out she did this when she was conflicted. But she did not feel conflicted now, so she did not understand why she did it herself. She considered speaking but often found the silence was just as pleasant, if not more so, because she did not want to be grating on the professor with her means of speaking. Maybe she was conflicted. hm- odd.

"Good tea."

She spoke without thinking, which was...unheard of. Even for something so small, she thought of every word and how best to get the point across with as few words as possible. Nerves got the better of her for a moment and she considered springing from her seat and running out of the house. Fear of saying something stupid and ruining this single good and consistent relationship forever itching at the back of her head. But still, even as she had these thoughts, she spoke.

"Good chair, good walls, good company" She was freaking out now, internally. She was speaking far more than she could, or SHOULD. She should stop talking now. "Say lot, but good friend. Have manuscript pages, if want." She wished to implode.

———————-

Mandragora halted the sharpening of the blade Patterson spoke of. Wincing at the honorifics slightly when she knew she had no desire nor claim to such a title, meager as it was. As the man moved closer she stowed away the when stone and watched him closely. Not out of distrust, rather watching the same way a wild animal would when seeing a lone human in the wild. At the offer of sharing food she would only take a small bit of the duck and stuff it into her mouth still not saying anything.

While she chewed she moved her great sword, or Scarath as her native tongue would label it, onto her lap. The flat of the blade resting atop her knees. A thumb moved to a sharp point on the back side of the blade, and she pushed down on it. A bead of blood formed on her digit, which she moved to the flat of the blade and dragged the blood across it. With a hiss of boiling liquid bright ruby red runes formed in a language which neither present could speak let alone read.

“Relic- kind of. Uhm- given by, close friend, mentor. Khaine like it”

Patterson (D&D) fizzelston

Snow as far as the eye could see. The night sky above them was clouded and troubled. No star managed to pierce through it. Cloaking the world below in shadows and ice.

Patterson sat on top of his bedroll, gazing at the small fire in between them. Two warriors sharing a camp. It was by accident that they met and by grace that they had to travel in the same direction.
Patterson folded his legs underneath him. Eyeing Mandragora for a second before clearing his throat… “If I may be so bold, Witch Aelf, but I do wonder,” he said. The first words the two of them had shared in hours. Turns out both of them weren't born speakers. “Your greatsword…” Patterson’s hand reached for his beard and he scratched it for a second. “I have not seen any weapon like that before. Do you care to tell me about it?”
He got up then, moved closer to the fire, and set down once more. He picked his throwing ax from his belt and started to cut his rations. “I do not have stories that I care to share in return,” he said. “But I got food. Smoked duck and dried mushrooms,” he spoke. “Food I can share with you. As it would be a kindness to do so,” he said. Waving over Mandragora. “Please eat alongside me. We need strength tomorrow.”

"Thank you for allowing me to stay over, sheltering here," he spoke in his monotone voice. His gaze however was glued to the window. Tracing the rain drops that slowly made their way down. His hands clenched into fists. He maybe had accepted Yumi's offer to stay a bit too fast, a bit too obvious, but going out in the storm had not been an option for him and now even after the storm had settled... "I would prefer to stay a little longer. I will try to not overstate my welcome. I will be leaving as quick as the roads are bearable again," he spoke. Patterson finally managed to snap his gaze away from the window and to the small Magnolia glued to her side. "Bread madam, if you have. I do not wish to come across as lecturing, but I think your daughter should also eat some bread too. It makes kids strong. Madam."

Yumi Matsumura Vapor

Patterson was a rugged sort, Yumi had noticed -- terribly out of place in her home, admittedly, faint sunlight pouring in through the windows upon a pastel rug. At night, he was more "understandable", as she would call it, more fitting to a wooden gloom than the bright colors that surrounded him, no matter his silly garb. Still, she did not mind him. She offered her service, anyways.

"Did you sleep well?" Yumi asked with a hum. She was not all the way focused on him, occasionally muttering in a different language to the blonde child clinging to her who... seemed well on her way to a meltdown. Typical toddler things. Still, she continued on. "You made the best choice by staying here... did you hear the storm last night? We always get them, here by the sea..."

She lifted her gaze to the window. The storm in question hadn't caused too much damage, but she did spot a few stray branches littering the road running through the city of Perouges. Clean-up crew was late.

"It may not be safe to continue on, not for the hour, so don't rush." she then told him, "Mercenary you may be, you are also a human being. It's a lonely life, certainly, but one... I cannot convince you not to live. I can't even sway my husband -- he's out there now, northwards, doing..."

Whatever it was he was doing. She hated imagining it.

"..Hmph! At least you won't ever have a wife... just saying." The woman looked at him again. "Here. What would you like to eat? Make it fast, Mag's about to lose it."