Give advice to the OC above you!

Ramondo listens attentively to Merlin, his eyes fixed on him with a thoughtful expression. He nods understandingly as Merlin speaks, and when he finishes, Ramondo pauses for a moment before speaking in a calm, measured tone.
"I understand how difficult it can be to open up to others, especially when you have been through the experiences you have. It is natural to feel hesitant to reveal your vulnerabilities, but I want you to know that it is not a weakness to do so. In fact, it takes great strength to be honest and vulnerable with those around us."
He pauses for a moment to allow his words to sink in before continuing.
"You mentioned this difficulty in expressing to others that you are more than your experiences as a war veteran. You are a complex individual with unique thoughts, feelings, and experiences that make you who you are. And it is okay to share those aspects of yourself with others, even if it feels uncomfortable at first."
Ramondo reaches out and places a reassuring hand on Merlin's shoulder.
"I encourage you to take small steps towards opening up to those around you. Start with sharing something small with someone you trust, and gradually work your way up from there. And remember, it is okay to take your time and move at your own pace. Just know that you have support and understanding here, with anyone in the Clergy, should you ever need it."

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Ramondo stood in the quiet of his chambers, a troubled expression etched on his face. He knew that the world was changing, that the clergy's power was slipping away, and that it was time for the church to adapt or risk falling into obscurity. He paced back and forth, deep in thought, before finally stopping and speaking aloud.
"Things are getting worse," he muttered. "We can no longer ignore the signs of the times. The people are restless, and they are turning away from the church. What can we do to restore their faith?"
"Perhaps we should change our approach," he continued, his voice growing more urgent. "We need to connect with the people, to show them that we are not an institution, but rather a community of believers. That's what Cardinal D'Lagorio says, anyways."
He paused, taking a deep breath. "But how? How do we reach them? How do we show them that we care?"

He sat patiently listening to Ramondo's words nodding in agreement. "You're right this is something that shouldn't be ignored." He thought or second before continuing. "Change your approach indeed. The mind is a complicated thing but if you know what you're doing you can access it easily." He looked at Ramondo with a smug smile. "What I'm saying is that you need to get into the people's heads. You'd be amazed by how easy you can persuade a person with the right words." He wandered back and worth thinking. "Perhaps an event? Something welcoming and colorful?" He looked to Ramondo. "I say we plan a party."

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Pacing back and forth from a wooden chest than back again. Xammyl peered into it than walked away then came right back peering at the objects inside. He put his paw into the chest and took out a match. lighting it he gazed into the flame pondering the things he could do with it. He suddenly got scared and threw the match on the wooden floor. "See what I mean! I can't control myself! It's like a drug I keep coming back to." He looked at the match on the floor and sighed. "I can't stop the thoughts, my horrible thoughts of flaming destruction. Fire, it mesmerizes me turning me into some horrible psycho arsonist. I don't know what to do."

(Please ping me)

At first, Jüri simply looks confused, smoking his cigarette quietly as he listens. What was she talking about? After a moment, though, he manages to put the pieces together. At Grace's question, he laughs, a sharp sound.

"Who knows," he says, shrugging. "I'm not exactly the nicest person in the world either. Not by... any basic standards. But if someone cares for you and thinks you're their favorite, even if it's a child, there's some value in that. Something about you is 'favorite material' to someone, even if you're not everybody's cup of tea. That's how I look at it, anyway. Besides that... if you care about being nice and want to change, that's already a start. Better than a lot of people, even."

The medic taps the ash off of his cigarette and looks at the teddy bear.

"I don't really have advice on how to be 'nicer' that's not what you've probably heard already. Empathy, treating others the way you want to be treated, all that... it's not that simple, we both know as much. Maybe being 'nice' in the normal way just isn't part of your personality, naturally. And that's alright. Clearly, someone still found something to like about you." He pauses, his words hovering in the silent air as though he wants to add something. He dismisses it. "Well, I've said my piece."

One not-nice person to another, perhaps this was a moment of bonding between them. Either way, Jüri didn't seem to have the answers Grace sought... but at least there was a moment of connection that she might have somehow needed.

Jüri's expression is neutral- beyond a furrowed brow, which might be permanent- but his fidgeting is incessant. He can't seem to sit still; it's like the man wants to crawl out of his skin. It takes a while, though, for him to open up about anything. Still, the words sit in his mouth, and the longer they linger the worse they taste. Loathe to admit it, it was one of those times where things needed to be said, lest the unspoken induce toxic build-up. When he looks up, his eyes are flinty and distant. He looks through you.

"Someone I was working on died a few weeks ago," he says, hunched over in his seat. "Not abnormal. I can't say I'm used to it. Far from it. But it happens. This time was different, though."

The man looks down at the table, now, recollecting. What he sees in his mind unsettles him.

"He was conscious, but the wounds were too much for me to fix. Maybe if I was better at what I do, or something, but either way. I couldn't heal him fast enough. And he was talking to me the whole time. Begging me to save him. He could tell when he was dying, too. When it was about to be over. He was desperate. He told me a lot of things, but..." His lips tighten, and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, burdened by the memory.

"I have nightmares about it, now. Often. And I think about him, the things he said... more than I should. I don't let anything interfere with my work, even this, but I guess it's beginning to be a problem."

( ^ Glad you liked it, Wraith's a good boy once you get past his spikiness xD )

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Wraith cupped his hands over his ears as he breathed heavily, trying his best to block out the voices around him, but to no avail. "Shut up.....shut up, you're not real...." He growled lowly and he squeezed his eyes shut. With several nights of no sleep and his memories of his past coming up more and more often, he shouldn't have been too surprised that his hallucinations would come back, they always did when his body and mind were at it's breaking point. He was currently sitting in a ally way, rocking back and worth in a attempt to soothe himself, but as of yet, it wasn't working. 

This was bad, his senses were being flooded by fake stimuli that he couldn't make sense of what was real and what wasn't, his ears twitched as he heard someone approach him, his eyes snapped open, wide with fear on what he might see; he only saw the shoes of someone before he made a blind swing at him, but since he was only half lucid, he completely missed and ended up smashing his fist into the wall next to him. He withdrew, his whole body shaking as his eyes darted from the person in front of him, to the figures around them that only Wraith could see. The sclera of his eyes went black as his teeth grew sharper and longer; whilst his nails grew sharper and turned black in colour. "Stay away from me.....all of you!" He growled, his voice now deep and distorted with a low growl, though it was apparent his threat was more from fear than anything else. He backed away in his still seated position, only for his back to hit the wall of a dumpster. The shifter curled up on himself, circling his hands over his head, he was certain someone was talking to him, was that real or not?

After a few minutes dropped his arms and looked around, his half form features retracted, and his usual look and voice returned. "W.....where am I?" He asked looking around, his eyes seeming more awake and lucid then they were previously. "What happened? How did I get here?" He asked trying his best to sound like his usual self, despite his body still violently shaking. "I'm sorry... I don't know what happened, these episodes have been getting worse and more frequent....I......I can't tell anyone about what I see...." His eyes brimmed with tears that he refused to shed, he then held his head in his hands. 

"I don't know what to do....." He confessed in a strangled whisper.

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V That was so cute, thank you so much; Wraith really appreciates the help. ^.=.^

"Episodes, huh? Must be a hard time, dealing with all that." 

Garu stared down at Wraith, analyzing through the bottom of his gaze. He winced at the sight of Wraith's injured fist -- looks like it made quite the impact, he thought -- but overall kept a nonchalant demeanor. Was it callous to not show much outward concern? If it was, Garu figured catastrophizing would still be worse for the panther shifter yet.

"Hey, hey, no need to be afraid or anything," Garu sighed, lighting a smoke to take the edge off of the tension in the air. "You're safe here, yeah? I can't promise the hallucinations won't get 'ya, but I can say that I can talk you through them if they happen again."

Shit. The tears threatening at Wraith's eyes got to Garu, and noting the strain in his voice, Garu's casual demeanor dropped. He knelt down and handed his tie to Wraith. "Go on, it's okay. Cry into this if you want. I'll wrap up your hand and disinfect it. Now, you don't have to tell me, but why can't you tell anyone? I guess anyone needs a support system. You didn't get one, did you? What a shame. I don't know what to tell 'ya, but I'm here if you wanna talk about it. Everything feels more real when it's stuck in your own head, yeah?"

Garu didn't seem like one to open up about his life. A scientist and a doctor at a respected company, and close with a mayor, he was the type that anyone would think might keep whatever was on his mind to himself. However, Garu didn't have any intentions of putting on airs, and when whatever was on his mind became too heavy, even he had to consult whoever was around. After all, he had accidentally made himself a mentor figure to the person he used to tell his problems to, and he certainly wasn't about to say anything to his closest friend. 

His closest friend. That was the very issue plaguing Garu. As he tipped his head back and sighed, he told you the very thing on his mind today, at least until he could get a drink or few into him. "Mind listening for a bit?" he asked, although it was certain he was going to continue anyway. "My closest friend is getting obsessed with work. Staying late, not sleeping for shit, and all he ever thinks about is the job. I bother him in his office when I can, but there's only so much I can do to keep checking on him. Technically he's my boss, so I can't go against his orders if he wants me to leave him alone."

Garu loosened his work tie, as if it was a collar too tight for his neck. He glanced at you with tired eyes and gave a weak, faltering smile. 

"I'm worried for him. He'll get himself killed on the job like this. Is there anything I can do without stopping him from working entirely?"

vvv this is awesome!! thank you!!

She stood idly, not quite moving despite the ambience that surrounded the small plaza as people went by on occasion, not noting the evidently one-sided conversation occurring. There in fact was no attempted response, not yet at least: aware of how a reaction might be taken. As it was, Galena merely watched the person ahead of her ramble about his current complications, to any unaware just a stone statue near the walls of an alcove.

It was strange to her, perhaps, to have someone talk to her in a confiding manner, although it was not too unlikely considering what else occurred on a day-to-day basis. What bothered her most however was her own disinclinations; even though she maintained a degree of respect in listening. Rhetoric or not, she felt as though she had to give an answer eventually. By extent, aware of herself and how she might scare him, there was an eventual decision to move.

Only her mouth provided motion, this for wording -- and the response was brief. "I believe that there is a merit to passiveness. All the same, that is not a complete truth. If he will not listen to reminders from yourself, there may be others who he has more respect for. Everything is interconnected, social fact included."

After that, there was not any further attempt to speak or move, making it appear as though he might have imagined the response in his tiredness.

It was dreary day, not enough to prompt a storm, but enough that her worries were present for the time being. Even though it took a moment regardless to voice her thoughts, she eventually looked over at the space opposite herself.

"When it rains and snows, I do not find much in the way of complications there. Yet, there is still the fact of interactions. I believe that I am not quite suitable for discussions on a normal basis, and there it is worse."

This is likely unclear, to the person she is speaking to -- and keeping a distance from -- which she seems to understand. By this degree, she continues with explanation.

"I am not quite unharmful to most individuals, worse when such weather occurs. My composition is toxic essentially. That does not remain constant as a state, reversions consistent, although I worry about harming those who know me."

Another pause. Her thoughts lingered, and then were again voiced. "Is there anything I can do, for that?"

“That is a difficult problem you find yourself saddled with, my friend.” The bear’s voice is a steady drawl, her expression relaxed and unconcerned as Galena speaks. Not even the mentions of poison and toxicity seem to deter the little yellow bear. 

“There is no absolute certainty that with what preparations you make that those you care about will be safe, and the opposite is true for that reason alone.” The bear muses, tugging the brim of her purple hat down and patting the space next to her with her mitten like paws.

“However, if it is of great concern to you, I’m certain that some precautions will be better than none. Protective equipment for yourself or others when you know skin to skin contact may occur. Things like that.” Reverie hums before patting at her legs and sighing.

“Just how I’d do it, if it were me. Be ready for if your precautions fail and you’ll be fine.”

“It’s a little silly actually. I’ve tried all the tricks I have but nothing has worked. Yet, that is.” The bear taps her chin and hums before continuing, gesturing to her companion. 

“I have, a very good neighbor. He’s always helping keep my flower beds alive and looking pretty, which is more than I can say for myself. All this time and he visits often. I try my best to invite him for tea, or for some dinner but he always slinks away before we can get to that point.” The bear tugs off her hat and wrings the brim in her mitten like hands.

“I want to make nice with him. Be friends or at least repay him for his continued kindness. But he’s scared of me. How do you think I should go about it? More gifts? More invitations? I don’t know, I just want to help my new acquaintance!”

" hmmm, " alderic tents his fingers together, nodding gravely. " that is quite a serious situation, yes. but . . . you must keep in mind, some people have a hard time warming up to people than others. maybe this neighbor of yours is reaching out to you in his own way. either way, let him know that you're grateful. but don't overwhelm him. "

he sits down next to the bear, gently patting her shoulder.

" large gestures don't always sit well with others, " alderic says thoughtfully. " sometimes . . . all people need is a little thank-you note. leave it in his mailbox, maybe with a treat as a sign of your goodwill. "

" ai vittu, " alderic rubs his temples. where does he even begin ? he exhales a long sigh, crossing one leg after another. " where do i begin . . . it's a lot, really. i want to bond with my brother, " he explains. " boy. he's a very intelligent person, and up until recently, he's been taking care of our family . . . of that, i'm grateful. " pause. " but it seems as if the only times we work well together are during moments of dire peril. and even then, we have clashing ideas -- and different ways of working. i’m more emotional, he’s more logical. i want to be king, he dislikes being in a castle for too long. "

  the son of protection sighs. 

  " i want to be a good older brother to him, " alderic mumbles. " and i want to help. i love him, just as i love all my brothers and sister. but i've been out of his life for sixteen years. and he's razor-sharp, he doesn't need to rely on me. so how do you connect with someone who's your polar opposite? "

Arlo sits down beside Aldéric and listens. He looks down at his hands while Aldéric speaks, and it almost looks as if he's disinterested. But when the other person stops speaking Arlo pipes up. "You know, Anna and I had a similar period where we did not see each other, although not nearly as long. And yet it was still longer than it should have been. I let my worries keep me away from her." He rubs his wooden fingers together and the wood creaks together quietly. He notices after a moment and stills his hand.

"We're sort of opposites too. I mean, it's not every day that a guard has a murdering thief for a brother." He lets out a short huff, half amusement and half chagrin. "I think she'd kill me if she found that first bit out," he mumbles. "She's always disliked pets, I want a menagerie. Anna is much more serious and always helps people out, I seem to find myself drawn back in to gambling things away and much more selfish than her. Always try not to be, but..."

The half elf falls quiet again. He sits for nearly a minute, gazing out at the world around them and thinking through his next words. "Sometimes you have to accept that you were gone, and they've changed. Or that you were gone and they had experiences you weren't there to help them through. You can't take that back, and no amount of trying will ever completely make it up to them. They needed you, and you were gone." He sighs heavily. "But what you can do is be there for them now. Help them when things come up as best you can - no, as best they'll let you. Because it might take time for them to fully let you back in. The gods know it took Anna almost two years before she confided much in me again. For some people it'll take longer.But you just exist around them and keep yourself open to whatever they need, when they need it. He'll appreciate it someday.

"And about not liking the same things, well that's where compromise comes in. Anna really likes a good fight, you know? For her guard training and to get closer to people. I don't quite know how that works, but most of the guard like a good fight so I don't question it too much. But I mostly hunt instead and don't like getting punched. So what do we do about that? Well, we do archery instead of fist fighting. She sucks with a bow, I have to be honest. I don't think I've seen anyone that bad at it. And every now and then I put on some of their guard armor and do my best to match her blows. She always ends up going easy on me. Sometimes she goes out on my hunts with me. I keep those short, of course. She's a bit bored by them. But she goes with me and makes the effort to spend time with me, so I make the effort to be there when she needs to let out some energy with a fight. I know she's learning to bake bread and while, again, she sucks at it, I still sit in the kitchen with her and try those burnt-rocks she comes up with. Sometimes it just comes down to spending time together in a compromise. Maybe go outside of the castle with him sometime, see what he does in his free time. Buy him some art supplies if he's into that, or whatever. It doesn't really matter what it is, the thought and effort behind it is what matters.

"But what do I know?" Arlo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of dice, rolling them on the ground in front of him. "Maybe I'm not making sense. Feel free to just ignore all this and forget about it. I'm not exactly the best person to talk about this stuff, after all." He slips back into his easy-going grin and holds up the dice. "Let's play a round or two of dice! See if your luck will be good at this."

(This has gone a week without a post, so I hit bump, and also newer prompt just in case the old one didn't make sense without knowing his story or was too dark

"You know..." Arlo grins and scoops the dice up into the cup, shaking it like a mixed cocktail. "I found someone. It's this... baker." Arlo lets the dice spill out over the table. "Damn," he mutters. "Well, let's hope my love life doesn't turn out like that did." At that his face falls. "It already did once... twice...three times." He holds his hands up. "Sorry, getting to be a bit of a downer, aren't I? Let's get this conversation back on track... His name is Tomás. His skin practically shimmers in the light. And his bread is heavenly, have you been to his shop? The one on fourth street? It's like he uses magic to make it!" His entire face lights up as he speaks about Tomás, and for a moment it's as if the downer to the conversation never happened. But Arlo has known this companion longer than most and lowers his voice. "He makes me wonder, you know, like... Am I... good enough for him?" His expression drops into something vulnerable. "I'm becoming a painter now, but I've robbed so many people. And especially with my dad, I stole from those that needed it most. I don't think I could ever undo how many people I hurt, no matter how hard I tried." Arlo barely finishes his sentence before he's reaching for the cards. "Let me set up the next game, I'd like to hear what you think of my situation while you wait." His easy going smile is back on his face, any other bits of a down mood erased. "Do you think I'll remain forever single, ruining my relationships like always?" He chuckles despite the words.

(went with the newer prompt, hope you enjoy!)

Playing cards and listening to someone ramble on about their love life in great detail was the last thing Brandy would ever do - at least willingly. Yet here she was, talking to Arlo and attempting to helping him with his love life issues.  It didn't make sense why he would scout her of all people for this, though the more she thought about it, the more it made sense: her lack of love could put some logic into a situation driven by emotions.

The hamon warrior nods as she follows along with the last of Arlo's words, watching him shuffle the deck of cards with impressive skill. She leans back in her seat and folds her arms. "Well," her eyebrows raise, "that's quite the predicament you have there. First of all, it's fine to be upset about things. No need to apologize for that. And second, to answer the question at the beginning, I haven't been or much less heard of Tomás' food. It does sound interesting though..."

"Now, before I get off track, let me be frank. Of course you're good enough for him!" Brandy deals out the cards, then shuffles through what she has. "You're good enough for anybody," she continues. "If you keep asking if you are, then you're letting your happiness be measured by other people's opinions. That's only going to turn into self-doubt and hate. Not anything useful."

"If you want to keep asking questions, maybe consider if Tomás is good enough for you. And by that I mean if he's willing to understand the things you've done in your past and forgive them - from what you're telling me, the whole stealing gig is permanently over. Actually, who's to say that Tomás himself hasn't done something shady in his past?"

Brandy absentmindedly puts a card down, smirking when she realizes it's an ace. "I rambled," she admitted. "Sorry. In all seriousness, I don't think you'll stay forever single. Will you end up with Tomás? Maybe. Maybe not. Time will tell, but just keep staying on the right track, avoiding the stuff you did in your past, and stay confident. This might sound insincere, though I can tell that you truly love him a lot. I'm rooting for you..."

Her eyes flicker towards Arlo shaking the die in a cup. "...I'm also rooting for myself to win this game."

-

Just by looking at Brandy, you can tell she's had enough. Her hair is a rough mess, her disgusted face is marked with a set of furrowed brows and tightly sealed lips, and her hands look as if they're about to tear something apart.

"I can't keep my cool any longer," she frowns, tapping her fingers on her arms. "If I have to stay one more day living in my parents' house, I'm going to lose it."

"Everything about them is wrong. My dad must think he's the ruler of the world or something, always arguing with me that he decides what's wrong or right under his roof. Even when I try to explain myself and say that not everything has to go his way, he's insistent on arguing. Oh, and don't get me started on my mom. I thought a mother was supposed to help her daughter, but no. All she does is nod along to whatever my dad says, give me lectures on why I'm such a bad kid, and say things behind my back."

The girl regains her composure, closing her eyes with a deep breathe. As she exhales, she opens them again. "I can't run away, either. There's nowhere safe for me to go to. So...what do I do? How do I respond or deal with them?"

Frob nods, trying his best to relate the situation to one of his own. He can feel the pain in the girl's voice and it hurts him to hear her so upset. He continues to look sympathetic while deeply listening. Once it seems like Brandy has finished speaking, he answers.

"I didn't have many experiences like that with my own parents but I do know how it feels to live with people that act like they know everything and are better than you. When I was with my first husband, he used to act like he was always right no matter what. Granted, I was able to divorce him when thing got rough... but if I hadn't been able to, I would've tried to find people who could support me."

Frob pauses to think of a better way to explain his hypothetical situation. He doesn't want to give half-hearted advice.

"You could find a group of friends, online or I'm real life, and they could help you work through fights you have with your parents. Also, you could journal your feelings; I did that during most of my divorces."

He pauses again then finishes his points, "Most importantly, you gotta stick it out and imagine how great things will be once you can leave."

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Frob paces back and forth, obviously troubled. His hands are shaking and he's breathing heavily. Looking down, he begins to vent..

"Sometimes I feel like I will never find someone worth loving. Everytime I get married, I end up divorced before I can even get used to married life. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I care too much." Frob explains, continuing to pace.

He isn't the best at romance but he really tries. He just needs some good advice or someone that can help him out.

"Like, my last wife up and left me with no note or anything. Then she only shows up long enough to finalize the divorce. I get no goodbye and no explanation as to what I did wrong... who does that?" 

"Eh. Marriage is overrated. Maybe you should try waiting for someone who wants to spend time with you. You're not the problem. You're only a problem of you leave someone without further explanation. At the end of the day, transparency is important. Of you're uncomfortable in a relationship, tell them. Don't be like those jerks."

She pulled out a dagger from her sleeve and fidled with it in one hand, "Don't worry your head about not finding the right one. I don't understand love and I honestly don't care for it, but people like you seem to think it's the end all be all. You don't need to worry about it too much. You'll find someone someday. Just be yourself. Trust me. I know people that were hopeless until they meet someone. You'll be fine."

----

"Some people say my training methods are too harsh. And that I'm too aggressive. The hell they want me to do? What do you think? Because if I'm too soft they'll get their ass kicked in battles. I'm just giving them experience."