[OPEN] baby wake up i found the plot

[simplicitas]

Who: Elsword & You
What: A curated selection of our finest bullshit including: making a grave for a child, sharing the Plot, repairing his armour, and... fishing!
When: Backdated to mid-June
Where: Outside :)
Warnings: There will be mentions of a dead child, but otherwise not too grim. Other warnings TBD/in tag headers.


i. this is the plot-relevant prompt
cw: electrocution mention

[Elsword is feeling a bit better after getting electrocuted within an inch of his life the other day, finally able to move about and do things again. The first thing he does isn't something ostensibly normal, though — the boy never is. Rather, he's coming up to you with a framed photograph, large and featuring a group of many people. One of the people in it looks like you from the past, however you were — younger, in a different form, whichever it may be — and Elsword taps a claw against the frame as he hands it off to you.]

Did we... Did I know you when I was a kid? And I... forgot about it?

[It's difficult to see, but the little redheaded boy in the photograph — no older than thirteen — bears a striking resemblance to the boy in front of you now. If you squint, anyway.]

ii. in memoriam
cw: mentions of a dead child

[Just outside the manor — well, actually, about ten feet away from it, but still — Elsword is holding a large piece of stone in his lap, sitting down in the grass and dragging the clawed finger of his gauntlet against the rock face. If you look closely or approach, you might catch the soft, golden glow of magic, as he tries to carve something into it.

Your footsteps alert him, but all he does is swivel his head around briefly to look at you and nod, before setting back to what he's doing. He's got a few flowers next to him as well, and Leon is curled up at his side, slow-blinking at you with his head against his giant paws.]

iii. i didn't go to blacksmithing school

[It's late into the evening, a bit past dinnertime, when Elsword finally doffs his armour and sits outside the inn hammering away at it. When he went into the mansion, it got messed up by a giant wolf attacking, see, and the consequence he suffered upon leaving it made it worse. He hasn't had time until now to actually sit down and try to repair it, and boy...

...boy, he gets why this is a Profession and not just Something Anyone Can Do.

Dinged-up, broken armour isn't good for combat. It gets weaker every blow until it fractures, and by that point, you're likely to get pieces of metal embedded in you when it fully breaks, depending on luck. He's like... pretty sure that's how it works, anyway. But man... man, every hammer strike seems to make it worse, and there's not a proper forge to fix things in.]

Do you know how to fix armour?

[Maybe he should just give up and go without.]

iv. feesh

[He's feeling a little out of sorts for the rest of the week, no idea why other than "emotions are starting to bubble up to the surface" and "had a generally bad time with the mansion"... so to take the edge off, Elsword can be found doing what Elrians do best.

Fishing.

He's silently sitting by the riverbank on a log, wearing a hat that reads "THE EL WANTS ME, FISH FEAR ME", and catching just... myriads of fish. So many fish for to munch. They're piling up on the bank fairly quickly.

Please feel free to just rob him he won't miss any of these.]

Comments

[amhran]

[ Caoimhe immediately lights up, and she grips Elswords hand between her own. Jerking it up slightly, but with an intention to help ground him by holding fast to his hand. ] Tell me everyone you remember, and who is important to you. Tell me everything you know - tell me all the stories of your people. Of your life, it is my duty.

My sworn duty as a member of the Tuatha de Muirenn. We are the keepers of knowledge, 'The winds bear our songs, thus are our stories always told by our lips. Our minds course in depths so much like the ocean, our vault of memories and knowledge vast - countless. As we reflect what is told to us, no less alike the stars upon its totality.' This is my people, this is my duty - tell me your story! I promise to know every detail of it. Repeat it to you without so much, missing any of it.

[simplicitas]

[There are a lot of friends of his, distant faces that flicker behind his eyelids if he closes his eyes and tries to conjure them to the surface. Lots of stories that he's losing the longer time goes on. Memories that he's so close to calling to the peaks of his memory, but they linger in the shadows, flashes at the peripherals, so close yet so far.

His hands squeeze hers, gentle but firm.]

...okay. I can try to remember, but it might be a long story.

[And maybe they should take a walk as Elsword recounts it — so he'll swing around and let go of one of her hands to step through the grove, hand-in-hand. And he'll explain what he can — the names of his friends, some general appearances and information. But he lingers on Add, who used to be here some time ago. It's a battle to remember their names sometimes. He goes on and on — about his elder sister who he looks up to, about a friend who's an alchemist, about how he and Ain are polar opposites these days but he wouldn't give the guy up for the world, he just wishes Ain would quit it sometimes.

Then, there are the actual stories — about Elrianode and the Demon Realm and Sander and all sorts of locations. They're sparse, passing memories set in the greater background, but they're there. They exist, and he recounts them all slowly as he wades through the muck covering his brain.]

[amhran]

[ And so the move forward... If he would let her, she would lock their arms together. The way a friend would, when wanting to remind the other that they are welcomed to lean upon them. Find solace in such strength, so that their voice may be heard and she listens.

She listens to every word, every detail that he can recall. His voice reaches with such clarity, and she is his recounting. His voice carries with such clarity, and she hangs on to his recounting like a poet, a writer, and a member of the Tuatha de. It is imperative that she finds connections within the vault of her mind. With all her traveling across the Continent of Grandall - which for our sake of knowledge. Is the size of Australia. ]

Add, I had seen him. [ As he lingers, she recalls exactly who Elsword speaks of. Though she does not bring it up til there is a long pause in their conversation. ] I can picture him even now, at least his I could create a... Illusion so that you never forget his face.

[simplicitas]

You can? I...

[Don't want to forget, please don't let him forget. Elsword leans against her from where their arms are locked and breathes out a bothered-sounding sigh.]

...if you can, that would help. It doesn't have to last that long.

[amhran]

Of course... Here... [ Caoimhe squeezes his arm, grateful for the touch and seemingly also surprised as he leans closer to her. However she does not flinch nor seem frighten.

She holds his arm and pulls him gently to a place where he can sit. Allows him a moment to adjust where he sat, while her fingers move to pull out a harp. This item was her instrument of illusions, and in her hands she could craft many shadows of the past. So long as she played a tune. Finding herself in the moment, she begins to play: a song.

Around him warm winds would embrace Elsword, and gently an illusion of ADD would be procured. All she could do was make him move the way she recalled, an angry sort of person who seemed to scowl and hold many deep secret thoughts of things he wished to discover.. ]