hot girl summer is over...

[philandery]

CHARACTERS: Sylvain & CR
DATE: Now! and Later!
WARNINGS: Will update as needed but general thottery to be expected...
SUMMARY: Catch-all for closed starters.

Sylvain was recently blursed with a certain pair of undies but I will leave it up to the player whether they wanna deal with it or not! Feel free to PM or Disco (omo#9246) me for plotting!

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LOG 02 (I) // BERSERKER (CÚ CHULAINN)

[philandery]

[ Chickens... chickens... Maybe there's something about these chickens... Sylvain would usually avoid the banal (and smelly) task of exploring a chicken house, but after being stuck in the last car for however long it took to find all those damn korogu seeds, he's of the mind that every rock and stone (and chicken egg, etc.) does indeed need a turning, and as quickly as possible.

It's a mess in here though, the lazy flurry of loose feathers sticking everywhere to his primarily black uniform, and he has to duck more than once to avoid the scrape of twiggy claws against his scalp.

—And then he notices something (someone?!) else in the coop with him. He flinches in surprise upon seeing the ominous, dark figure.

...It's another passenger, not a monster. Though from a peripheral glance, Sylvain would've mistaken that tail and all those excessive spikes for the latter. (Another thing that tips him off? Is that the thought not a virgin immediately and unfortunately pops to mind when he locks eyes with the stranger.) ]

Uh, hi. Guess you've got this place covered...?

[ Because he is this || close to jetting...! ]

[bersercu]

( yes. he's inside the chicken coop--- mostly because he thought no one else would enter either? it's certainly not the most clean place, but it's one that definitely deserves some kind of investigation. whatever keeps agitating the nuggets and tendies of the future should probably be protected, especially as a food source...

but also? if he gets mad, maybe he can vent some steam and let a chicken know what it's like to fly. )

Eh?

( definitely not a virgin. look at him, he definitely fucks(???). )

No. Not at all.

( and then he takes a few steps toward sylvain. )

Are you the one that's been disturbing the chickens?

[philandery]

[ So true. Sylvain would commit a lesser crime for an omelette? He's had enough gruel to last him a year, and he's hoping getting on Cassy's good side means she'll spare him an egg or three...

(And yeah there's no way he hasn't been around... Even if that bizarro skeleton attached to him probably makes things... inconvenient...)

—Wait is he moving closer? Most people aren't able to tower over Sylvain, but given Berserker's heels and menacing physique, Sylvain feels aptly towered over. He swallows and smiles blithely up at the stranger. ]

Nuh-uh. Just here to check on them, same as you.

[ His eyes drop down to Cú's tail—maybe it's rude, but it's literally impossible to ignore, long and slithering thing it is. A few of the hens have started pecking at it, beaks ineffectual against the hard shell.(?) ]

...You are here to check on them, right...?

[ It's a stupid question but Sylvain's brain is only half-functioning. He finally remembers the bag of feed he's been burdened with by one Cassy Cassatt, and holds it up between them almost like it's a shield. (Haha what? No way, he's not afraid of this guy...) ]

So... Got any idea how much we're supposed to give these birds...?

[bersercu]

( the tap-tap-tapping of beaks on his armored tail is easily ignorable. he can't feel a thing. there's someone much more interesting for him to give his undivided attention to. though sylvain would probably be a little taller than him, it's those heels that do give him the slight advantage but only that. )

No. I'm not.

( he's here to beat the ever living heck out of whoever might be doing something that been affecting the townspeople. not that he cares about them or anything.

slowly, he places a hand on the bag that's acting as an impromptu barrier and presses down on it. )

None. We're not here to take care of them. Okay?

( cassy cassatt can suck a big one right now. as he continues to put his weight into the sack of feed, he narrows his eyes. )

Where's your weapon?

[philandery]

You're not.

[ Sylvain parrots that back at Berserker, somewhat dumbly. So... what is he doing here... with all these chickens then... Don't tell him—is he going to eat one? He's got some monstrous teeth, and it's not such a far stretch of the imagination to visualize him chomping down on these poor birds. ]

—We're not?

[ He smiles blankly, definitely feeling the weight applied to the bag of feed and by extension, his arms. And while Sylvain's muscles aren't only for show (though they are largely for show), he finds the bag slipping from his grasp and falling to the floor, a few of the seeds spilling over the top and summoning a small flock of chickens around their ankles.

He steps back, somehow mindful not to tread on any feathers. ]

Uh, it's outside. Why?

[ Does... he want it? Sylvain would probably hand it over, if asked. ]

LOG 02 (I) // DIMITRI

[philandery]

[ Sylvain wants to get out of this dour car as quickly as possible, willing to venture wherever it takes to dig up clues but... it's also incredibly difficult to ignore the distress of the denizens. The village is clearly in bad shape, ravaged by a sickness with no perceivable cure, and the more of it Sylvain sees the less focused he is on the locked door ahead of them.

So when an ornithrop beseeches him for help at the clinic, he follows without complaint, to an end destination that can only really be described as dismal. The small building is packed with sickly patients as well as a few volunteers, and Sylvain moves carefully between the prone denizens to greet a familiar face passing out blankets. ]

Your Highness. Have you been here long?

[ He helps take half of the pile for distribution, looking around to see who may be in need of an extra (albeit thin) layer. ]

I can take over from here if you need a breather.

[ What he wants to say, is that Dimitri shouldn't be in a place like this for too long (at an increased risk of catching whatever illness this is)... but he also knows Dimitri would insist on helping anyhow and that he would never admit to tiring. ]

[overruns]

[ All the cars he's encountered so far have been challenging in some way, some sort of task at hand that quite literally demands their attention. But this car has given them no objective. Instead, there is only suffering, senseless and widespread. Such is the nature of a plague—Fhirdiad itself still bares scars from a blight, a whole generation of people crippled before it was suppressed.

On the bright side: the blankets are a little cool and crisp where he hands them off to Sylvain, fresh from being dried outside. They had to keep the bedding clean, but it was easier said than done with their resources, which are as threadbare as their sheets. ]

I'm all right, Sylvain. [ It is said with gratitude, but a certain firmness too. Because he's right—he will help out here, and he cannot be stopped. ] Though another pair of hands would be appreciated all the same. The villagers here seem to have been suffering here for some time now...

[ So the help of fresh, healthy blood is naturally welcome. ]

Passing out blankets and water is only a short term solution.

[philandery]

[ It's exactly the sort of response Sylvain expected, and he has to hold back a sigh. (Dimitri with his seemingly impervious exterior, but bleeding heart inside...)

He's just who the people of the Kingdom need, the very paragon of the strength and chivalry it values, but Sylvain worries he'll burn himself out before he even manages to sit on the throne. (If they can get home at all.) ...Even so, it wouldn't be right to stop him either, when the need for help is so immediate and irrefutable.

The newcomers are probably the only potentially good news this village has received in some time.

Sylvain hums mildly, kneeling to drape a blanket over an ornithrop, a sickly, sparrow-like thing that chirps weakly for its recently departed spouse. (Rushiferu...) ]

Right. Hate to think about what happens after we run out of blankets and water.

[ Or, the possibility of them catching whatever it is going around.

He makes his way back to Dimitri, speaking quietly as to not disturb the patients. (Though Sylvain has to even wonder if they're even able to pay attention.) ]

Nothing seems to be growing in these parts, either. People seem to be getting by on very little, but if that runs out...

[ It'll be starvation on top of sickness. Sylvain doesn't doubt there will be looting as well, in desperate times. ]

...I haven't seen anything like it before. Have you?

[overruns]

[ As their patient, Pandalpon, wraps himself up in his new, thin blanket with a chirp, Dimitri pours a small bowl of water for him and leaves it on the bedstand with a quiet sigh as they depart onto the next patient.

They have a great task ahead of them: healing the people and the land. ]

Not exactly. I have read of such things in Fhirdiad's history, of course—mass blight is only a thing of the very recent past.

[ It was part of his governance to make sure the capital didn't slip back into disaster. Still, that knowledge only seems to make his brow furrow now. ]

But that was caused by overpopulation, tainted water... the things you might imagine in squalor and crowded streets. Whereas I cannot tell where this disease is coming from, much less how to stop it.

[ If they don't know the cause, how can they hope to find a solution? It's a bleak situation, as dour and dire as the shrouded woods around them. ]

[philandery]

[ Pandalpon... There isn't even any coffy in this car to serve him... 😔 ]

Right. [ The Plague of Faerghus had taken Dimitri's mother after all, Queen Consort at the time... Though Sylvain refrains from mentioning it. No doubt it's already on Dimitri's mind. ]

Would you guess it was something that came from outside, and spread inwards? Or the other way around?

[ Had it come from somewhere beyond the woods? Or from within the town itself? ]

It's strange that it's not just the people being affected. Do you think it could spread to the other cars on the train, too...? Either way, I get the feeling we have to stop it, whatever it is.

[ Just spitballing... In the meantime they both get asked to help prepare some gruel for the patients able to take food. It's a sad mixture of millet and birdseed in boiling water... ]

LOG 02 (I) // CLAUDE

[philandery]

[ If Sylvain had known he'd end up here, sequestered in a crazy lady's mansion and forced to play the role of prospective subservient malewife, he would've NEVER tried to hit on Madam Vermeer. (And he wasn't even really hitting on her he was just complimenting her dress!! Like a proper gentleman does!!!)

Anyway. He isn't the only one who's been scouted, a number of other passengers and healthy villagers awkwardly occupying the estate. They've been paired off for "training" purposes, expected to take turns waiting on each other, but as soon as Sylvain serves Claude his tea (and sees the Madam retiring elsewhere in the manor) he seats himself across from his schoolmate with a long-suffering sigh. ]

She got you too, huh?

[ At least, the lady is rich enough to afford some nice tea and snacks, which is an improvement over the gruel they've been subsisting on... He eyes one of the cookies in the center spread, deliberating whether it's safe to eat. He at least trusts the tea, which he steeped himself, and helps himself to a cup in the meantime. ]

[shaft]

[ The Madam is kind of inspiring, Claude thinks. That even with all this chaos around them, she's still preoccupied with something so... mundane. Human beings are truly tenacious.

It's out of respect that he plays along, though he couldn't care less about her problems, seating primly at the table while he sips his tea. ]

Now, now. You don't sound like someone eager to be whipped into shape for our gracious hostess' son.

[philandery]

[ Sylvain grins wryly over the rim of his teacup. ]

And you seem awful keen on pleasing. Looking to start a new life here, like you did in Fódlan?

[ —Ah, he realizes how... accusatory that must sound. He takes another swallow and sets his drink down, shaking his head as if to brush away any misunderstandings. ]

I don't mean it in a bad way. But I've been curious... word is you're from Almyra.

[ And what would someone from Almyra suddenly be doing in House Riegan? ]

[shaft]

[ The comment comes so out of the blue that Claude looks visibly taken aback by it, mouth dropping open behind his teacup. It's not like he's oblivious to the fact that his birthplace is present for everyone to view on his profile, but Dimitri had been considerate enough not to bring it up, and Sylvain hadn't seemed to care during their first encounter. (Granted, he'd been too busy being harassed by bees.)

Sylvain says he means no insult by it, but Claude tenses up anyway, mood instantly soured and showing no signs of recovery. ]

And here I thought you were too much of a smooth talker to ask a question like that so bluntly.

[ He's not glaring, but he looks annoyed. Cold. Like he's about to cut Sylvain's existence from his perception. ]

I also didn't realize your curiosity extended beyond wondering what lies beneath a woman's clothing.

[philandery]

[ Sylvain isn't expecting Claude to fumble his easygoing front so thoroughly, and while he's admittedly delighted at finally putting a sizable crack into that exterior, he does realize he's tread somewhere he likely shouldn't have. (It only serves to pique his interest more, and while Sylvain can't see it or feel it, there's a flicker of static across the red digits over his chest, a premonition of movement.)

He knows he has Claude cornered, and he's sure Claude could escape just as easily. So the decision lies in whether he wants to cause harm while he can, or simply back off.

(He doesn't want to do either.) ]

Just tryna keep you on your toes. I'd hate for you to think me boring.

[ He smiles, expression carefully schooled into something neutral, tone neither overly-friendly or disparaging. ]

And since you already know so much about me, [ what a glowing appraisal, truly, and not undeserved, ] and I so little about you...

[ He doesn't finish the sentence, and sits back in his seat instead, his gaze casting off elsewhere. (To another couple nearby trying to follow one of the ridiculous dancing drills the Madam has forced upon them.) It's a small gesture that he's willing to allow Claude some space—or that he realizes Claude obviously doesn't care to associate with him.

Quietly, ] ...I'm not gonna tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about. Not that it even matters here.

[ He doesn't care whether Claude believes him or not. Few do. ]

LOG 02 (I) // ZUKO

[philandery]

[ ESPIONAGE TIME. There's no way a manor of this size isn't hiding something. Never trust the rich (spoken by a richboy). Sylvain's got plenty of experience sneaking in and out of places (and not for any decent reason), so he goes in alone, expecting to carry out his search single-handedly.

But somewhere along the way he bumps into another passenger (another guest of the mayor's), and this team of one becomes a team of two. They currently huddle behind a corner, discussing their options for infiltration. ]

So.

[ ...How does Sylvain tell Zuko he's fairly small and compact, and perfect for sneaking into places. (He doesn't.) ]

If I distract the maids, think you can get into one of the rooms down this hall? I bet Chadsef's got something up his sleeve.

[ How does one person keep up such a nice place while the rest of the village is in shambles? Eat the rich (spoken by a richboy). ]

LOG 04 // JINWOO

[philandery]

[ For one second too many, Sylvain gets nam flashbacks of the museum car when he finds himself blind as a bat again, but thankfully someone else has the good sense to pull out their phone for a bit of illumination in the absolute darkness of this new car.

Feeling stupidly relieved, he pulls out his own device and makes towards the other passenger, hoping it'll be easier to navigate with two portable screens rather than one. ]

—Jinwoo?

[ He accidentally kicks something as he's walking towards him, the object rolling towards his designated companion and coming to a stop a few inches from his shoes. ]

...huh.

[ A... torch? That is... oddly convenient. ]

[reanimate]

[ Damn, usually Jinwoo thrives in the darkness, but this ain't it. He can't see anything at all, and even with his phone's flashlight, he's not given much to work with.

He starts moving, one hand feeling against the nearest wall (what, no light switch?), up until his attention turns to another source of light approaching him. ]

Oh, Sylvain.

[ Funny little predicament they've found themselves in. But Jinwoo hears whatever it is that's been kicked, and he shines his phone toward the floor.

Wow, that really is convenient. And he'll just be reaching down to grab it. ]

[philandery]

[ How funny! At that exact same moment, Sylvain too stoops down to grab the torch. By sheer luck they manage not to headbutt each other (Jinwoo would probably give Sylvain a concussion), however their fingers do accidentally overlap over in the process. ]

Ah—

[ Ow?! The torch flares to life, and Sylvain recoils from the blast of light directly to his eyes, hand moving away from Jinwoo's to shield his face.

—And suddenly, it's dark again. ]

What the hell...? [ He squints at his hand, still seeing bright spots as his eyes readjust to the gloom, and then glances at Jinwoo. ]

Did you do that? [ DID YOU MAKE IT GAY? ]

[reanimate]

[ They reach down at the same time and recoil at the same time, Jinwoo's own arm coming up to cover his eyes. Geez, a warning next time would be nice. Though he's not sure what happened to even cause the flash of light.

He shakes his head, something hard to see with how dark it is, and reaches down a second time because what is learning from past actions? He's at least a bit more careful this time, leaning slightly away when he... grabs the torch.

Nothing happens?? ]

A fluke?

[ But it had flared up so brilliantly just moments before. What was different about this time? Think, Jinwoo, think! His brain is at least capable of making these sorts of connections when there's an objective on the line. ]

... Hey. [ He pockets his phone before holding his hand out Sylvain. Someone has to be the bold gay around here. ] Give me your hand.

[philandery]

[ Thank u Jinwoo for taking one for the team.

Sylvain is still trying to puzzle it all out, and when he hears the suggestion the pieces finally click into place. ]

You think that...? [ They have to make the fingers touch? ]

...All right, why not.

[ He offers up a hand without a fuss, because he's not afraid of the gay! (He's not...) But he does preemptively clamp his eyes shut, and true to his prediction, the torch blazes brightly as soon as he's linked hands with Jinwoo. ]

Well then.

[ He eases his lids open again, but... even with the glowing torch, there's nothing else to be seen around them. ]

We gotta look for the 'cauldron', huh...

LOG 04 // LUCRETIA

[philandery]

[ > Sing, baby, sing seems a BIT too easy of an objective? And this particularly shiny crystal, with suspicious hand-shaped indents, HAS to be a clue... He'll be out of here in no time.

...Nothing happens for at least thirty minutes, though eventually another passenger comes along. He flashes Lucretia a 'charming' smile, hunched posture straightening up like a wilting plant given sunlight. ]

Hey gorgeous, how about we duet together?

[ —Ah, they probably wouldn't know any of the same songs, would they... Maybe they can improvise? (This is a terrible idea. Please turn him down immediately.) ]

[7edacted]

[Sylvain doesn't get an immediate shut down but Lucretia does look behind her, then forward again, an expression that's already tired stretching over her face.]

Oh dear. You were talking to me, weren't you?

[Maybe that's just how he greets everyone?? She's too old for this. At least she's pretty sure that duet in this context isn't some kind of euphamism.]

[philandery]

[ That's fine, he gets that expression all the time and it doesn't deter him one bit! :skype_sun_emoji: ]

Absolutely! What do you say?

[ Wow he only greets the pretty ones this way okay!!!! Age is just a number... (And no, he is not talking about making that kind of music. It's not that he wouldn't, he just has a self-imposed rule of Not Sleeping With Anyone You Can't Readily Escape—that is, every passenger he is stuck on this train with.) ]

[7edacted]

[It's a good thing because she'll just keep on giving him that look. Is it presumptuous to tell him that she's too old for him?]

That's awfully bold. [She doesn't say no outright. Because they do need to escape.] What if I'm a dreadful singer. Than you're stuck listening until we're done.