Alfie Solomons (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
devoutish) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindrpg2016-07-17 08:36 pm
devoutish) wrote in snowblindrpg2016-07-17 08:36 pm
[log] IT'S A MONSTER PARTY [closed]
Characters: Alfie Solomons, Ecks, Fiona, Francel de Haillenarte, Haurchefant Greystone, John Watson, Tifa Lockhart, Royce Melborn
Location around U4/V4, and then in various houses
Date: evening of 138 through morning of 139
Summary: various merry traveling bands are set upon and scattered by a RUDE AS FUCK anomaly
Warnings: n/a; will edit if anything comes up
Catch-all for EVERYTHING - running from the anomaly, settling in various houses, etc. Top-level and tag as you see fit.
Location around U4/V4, and then in various houses
Date: evening of 138 through morning of 139
Summary: various merry traveling bands are set upon and scattered by a RUDE AS FUCK anomaly
Warnings: n/a; will edit if anything comes up
Catch-all for EVERYTHING - running from the anomaly, settling in various houses, etc. Top-level and tag as you see fit.
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[He hopes. He throws open the door and runs in.]
Come, come!
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or at least there's more than one once francel leads the ghastly suit of armor that's been chasing him up and over a snowbank, not far from the house in which haurchefant and tifa have taken shelter. survival instinct has not taken over francel's thoughts; questions rattle his mind more than anything else. how long has he been running? how close is the voidsent knight: yalms, fulms — perhaps mere ilms? will he truly die if the thing simply touches him?
(francel has a sizeable distance between himself and the anomaly, in truth, but he hasn't even turned to see it for fear of losing his footing.)
he's been running for ages with this particular building in mind as his destination — so imagine his surprise when he reaches the house at last, only to find haurchefant and and a slender brunette in the doorway with some sort of white scorpion turning confused circles just outside.
and because he wasn't expecting this at all, francel makes a fatal mistake: he slows down to take in the scene, with his own anomaly still hot on his tail —]
Wh-What — ?
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[The second Haurchefant sees his friend his bursting through the front door of the house.]
GET INSIDE! RUN!
[Seeing prey, the scorpion lunges its tail at Haurchefant who barely manages to dodge back and twirl where he stands. He runs around the corner, luring the scorpion away from the door.
The clacking and chattering of the creature fills his senses and bares his teeth. As long as he can hear it, he knows it is close and he will keep it focused upon him for as long as he has to.]
I FORGOT TO TRACK THIS???? whoops
Are you alright?
[It's a quick question, one she doesn't even wait to be answered before she's at the door again, fingers gripping the frame as she watches Haurchefant. He's brave, impressively so, but sometimes she thinks he's too courageous for his own good.]
Haurchefant, come on!
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By the Fury.
Are you okay, my friend?
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[it's a mark of how stunned he is — and also how impolite — that francel barely even registers the weight of tifa's hand against his arm. he had been running with something clutched against his chest, something cylindrical wrapped in a white sheet of paper, and he squeezes it more tightly against himself now, looking up at haurchefant in wide-eyed shock.]
You truly... you truly live...?
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[Haurchefant doesn't move from the door but his features settle into a gentle smile.
Poor Francel...
He does not regret dying but he does regret not being able to say goodbye.]
Come.
[He lifts one arm out, welcoming Francel into a hug.]
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I... I brought you flowers. They... th-they wilted, I am s-sorry, I —
[quite suddenly, francel lets the lilies fall by tifa's feet, relinquishing his grip on them in favor of throwing his arms around haurchefant. he clings tightly, buring his face in haurchefant's shoulder; he breaks into a sob.]
Haurchefant — !
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All at once a thousand words spring up into his mind but none of them feel quite right for this situation. What words could ever feel right for this situation?
He'd died. He'd always thought that, after his death, his friends would eventually see him again in the Halls of Halone, not the snow-covered streets of a town in another world. Nothing had ever prepared him for this possibility.
At times it still seems unreal. At times, like this one, he still wonders if he could wake up back in Camp Dragonhead.]
I've missed you.
[It's all he can manage.]
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for a while it seems as though he might never stop crying. is the young lord happy, or miserable? it's hard to tell with the way his sobs constrict his throat, and every word he tries to utter is obfuscated by hiccups and sniffling. once or twice he almost seems to stop crying, but he must be doing something, or thinking about something, because he just starts up again. and every once in a while francel manages to get something out, but none of it is particularly coherent: haurchefant — i missed you — i'm sorry — i couldn't — i wanted.
at last francel's crying subsides, only temporarily perhaps, and he takes a shuddery breath and asks:]
Y-You won't... you won't leave again?
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But that seems like such a callous thing to say.]
I shall do my utmost to not make a habit of it, my friend.
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and francel never mattered anyway.]
...I really am — I really am the worst...
[he has to pull away to wipe a fresh flood of tears caught in his lashes, but when he does, he seems to stop crying at last, and he breathes slowly, staring at his shoes.]
...How have you been.
[it's not really a question.]
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[Haurchefant spreads his arms, indicating the world around them.]
Horrendous as this place can often be I will admit to a rush whenever we make a new discovery. In many ways 'tis like a grand adventure.
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[he wants to do something with his hands, but his bouquet is lifeless and dead on the floor, and there's no sense in picking it back up again. instead, he pulls his rosary from his pocket, fingers passing over the beads though he is not reciting any prayers.
francel doesn't know what he's doing here anymore. in norfinbury, with haurchefant. he can't talk to estinien anymore. aymeric is someone far beyond his reach. suddenly, he feels too tired to stand, and he seats himself on the nearest piece of intact furniture, staring blankly at the torn-up armchair.]
...I thought you would be at rest by now. But I suppose that was never... never your style.
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A knight's duty is never truly done, is it? But Halone has sent us here for a reason.
[What that is, he isn't sure. But there has to be a reason...She could not have simply rejected him, could She have?
He looks woeful for a moment, then his gaze snaps up.]
Could someone fetch me something to barricade this door with? I would rather not remain here all night.
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[that'll give him something to think of besides the overwhelming emptiness that he feels suddenly seized by.
francel stows his rosary back in his pocket and finally looks at what he's sitting on — one of the end tables. he picks it up and wordlessly passes it to haurchefant at the door; a second one soon follows in its wake. he can lift this much, at least.]
If that will not hold, I could move the couch...
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[Haurchefant shuffles aside enough to brace an end table against the door then makes a "come to me" gesture at Francel.]
If you could slide it here...
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Will that do?