[ ACTIVE/CLOSED ]

[anguinous]

WHO: Laurent, Natsume, Kouhei, Faolan
WHERE: The woods, The Library, and their apartment respectively
WHEN: Various points in November
WHAT: Exploring old bunkers, Chiding people, and having blue eyes once more
WARNINGS: None yet!


Natsume:

Laurent is outside the library in Apprassage from 1:30, having text ahead to advise the meet around two then arrived early anyway. He's leaning against the railing, dressed down in a faded pair of black jeans and burgundy v-neck with a light coat over the top in case of a burst of rain.

His sharp blue eyes lift to scan the road every so often, but mostly he seems at ease -- although another man is lingering nearby and watching their surroundings much more closely. He has the air of hired security, quiet and attentive.

Despite this, Laurent does have a bag slung around him ready for the walk back out to the bunker. He is curious, in a way, if anything will have changed. He doesn't expect it -- some things removed, perhaps, but it seemed pretty well abandoned -- but all the same it's a good chance to check.

If his new companion turns up, that is.

------
Kouhei:

Laurent frequents the library often.

It isn't just research, isn't just work, he also generally enjoys the quiet of it and enjoys reading. Living in another country he knows it wouldn't be practical to buy plenty of heavy books that he'd then need shipped home, but sometimes he enjoys being around physical books and borrowing them rather than everything being... well, digital.

He's sat at a table reading when he notices, out of the corner of his eyes, some impatient... students? He'd peg them, teenage perhaps? Laurent isn't sure, everyone looks young to him and he's young himself. A man standing on a step to reach a high shelf appears to be in their way, he'd guess, and their agitated attempts to get his attention appear to be leaving him unmoved.

Laurent is about set to ignore them when one of them reaches out to grab for the man, still standing on the step, to get his attention. Grabbing someone who hasn't noticed you is, Laurent thinks, both rude and also dangerous if they're up high. Rolling his eyes Laurent marks his page and gets up to cross over.

In his brightest, most forced friendly voice he asks:

"Is there a problem?"

The tone of it suggests, somehow, that the best answer would be no.

------
Faolan:

Laurent is up a little later this Saturday, and notices the text from Faolan only after he's left. He's been sleeping a little better, still restless at times but at least the exhaustion has drained from him. He slips on a loose blue t-shirt against the slightly cooler air then pads out into the kitchen to begin making breakfast, vaguely finger-combing his hair but not particularly fussed about appearances for now.

How long will Faolan be? He can't be sure. If he's picking up mail from the Retrospec box it could be anything. It could be dangerous, of course, which he supposes is why Laurent is waiting here.

The thought makes him uneasy.

Setting his tea steeping he begins to pace the living room in thought, eventually sets some music playing as he waits -- manages at least to eat a little fruit.

When he finally hears the click of the lock Laurent is on his feet and standing at the end of the hall, watching Faolan come back in with barely hidden anxiety as he clutches his tea.

"Well? Was it the keys to a mansion?"

That was what Rosalind got. He can only hope it was that pleasant.

Comments

[reticence]

Faolan had heard of these mail tickets, but he'd never received one himself. Hell, he'd never received anything from Retrospec in the mail until this ticket had come along. He'd picked the ticket up from their personal mail the evening previously, hung onto it and contemplated it the whole night long but no secrets were revealed from the 20-digit code or the simple address of 'Maurice Fitzwilliam, Mail Department'.

So he makes up his mind to go and see for himself. Early in the morning, while Laurent is still asleep, lest he think of coming with him. He sends him a text should he worry about where he's disappeared off to, but he's heard of what Recolle has sent other people in the past (James' horror story of being arrested for the receipt of his own severed arm in the post comes to mind...) so he'd rather see for himself before involving Laurent.

Turning over the ticket in exchange for the box, inside he finds a heavy object wrapped in cloth. Opening the cloth hesitantly, Faolan puzzles over the contents for a long time. Staring down at what appears to be a beautifully ornate and very antique harp. Plucking at a string, the instrument sings brightly at him and Faolan stares down at it for a moment longer, before gathering his thoughts. He supposes there's no reason to leave it here. It's hardly dangerous, and perhaps Laurent can help him puzzle through this.

Carrying the thing back to the apartment is a bit awkward but he manages it, juggling it into one hand to dig out his keys and unlock the door. Flushing slightly at the younger man's state of dress as he wrestles the package in the door.

"Not exactly," Faolan says, toeing his shoes off by the doormat. "It's--" He turns back to Laurent, intending to show him the harp and wondering just how the hell he's going to get his jacket off -- set it down perhaps? but where? maybe Laurent can hold it for a moment -- before he meets the other man's eyes and nearly drops the thing regardless.

"Shit," he swears, fumbling to keep his hold on the instrument before he glances back up at Laurent, his mouth hanging slightly open, a somewhat dumbfounded look on his face as he does. "Laurent, your... Your eyes."

[anguinous]

His eyes?

Laurent freezes for a moment at that, detaches a hand from his tea after a moment to reach up and touch at his face hesitantly. Faolan looks alarmed, and it's making Laurent imagine something horrible has happened to them. They're horribly bloodshot, or are mutating in some way, some hideous infection he hasn't noticed?

He's too distracted by this to question what the large object Faolan is wrestling into the apartment is for now.

"What's happened to them?" he prompts, even though he isn't sure he wants to know.

[reticence]

Faolan moves to make certain the harp is more secure in his hands before he attempts his answer, just in case. It's only once he's realized Laurent's expression that he understands the implication of his words and the lack of context for them.

"I -- no, nothing like that, it's nothing..." He shakes his head, forcing his mouth to close correctly before he steps forward towards the other man, closing the distance between them so he can look him in the eye face to face. And they're gorgeous. The photographs don't do them justice, even with such an expression that Faolan has brought upon his face.

"They're..." he says, trailing off as he gazes up at Laurent for a moment longer, studying his expression closely, as though he's never seen him before for in a way, he can hardly be certain he has. Not like this, not in person. Not since they've come to this city, at any rate. Not in months. "They're blue again."

[anguinous]

Blue again. There's a moment of confusion as Laurent processes this, not quite understanding since he'd expected something far worse, then realisation dawns and Laurent casts about for something to look at himself in. He steps around Faolan after a moment and back to his room, stops in front of a mirror and studies himself.

His eyes are blue.

He doesn't know why, but after a moment he feels himself start to smile. He'd been so used to the grey looking back at him, despite it always looking different in a photo, that the relief in seeing them the right colour is confused. He feels himself, he feels normal, but he hadn't really felt wrong until seeing them now the right colour.

"I wonder why," he says after a moment, almost to himself, then he turns and -- somewhat awkwardly -- gathers himself together as he paces back out of the bedroom. "I hadn't really looked at myself this morning," he admits. He'd just pulled on a t-shirt and walked out to get some tea.

[stagemagic]

His new companion is certainly going to turn up, and while he might not be half an hour early to the meeting spot, he does arrive with ten minutes to spare. Who would have thought that by showing up so early he'd still keep the other man waiting? Pity.

And while Laurent looks like he's at least somewhat ready to go for a trek through the woods, Natsume is in jeans and a turtleneck; the only thing about him that looks mildly ready for a walk harder than a stroll from one end of this public library to the next are the brand new hiking boots he has on his feet.

He's going to regret not wearing them in first when he gets blisters at the end of the day.

Natsume comes to a stop at the bottom of the steps, surveys the scene, and lets his gaze linger on the less than subtle guard standing nearby. Interesting...

Finally, he looks over at Laurent, and takes a good guess.

"You look like a man ready for a walk through the woods."

There's a strange emphasis on the last word in that sentence.

[anguinous]

Laurent's eyes lift again to study the person approaching, then at the challenge he flits a faint smile and pockets his phone.

"And you look like someone who wishes to be accompanied into them."

He pushes off the railings, straightens the bag slung around himself and lofts an eyebrow -- then shoots a glance sideways at his shadow.

"Don't mind him, he's obliged to follow me and make sure I'm not murdered by you or anyone else. Are you ready?"

Or did Natsume have something else to do first, buy some food or a drink. Check in with someone to confirm Laurent wasn't a murderer himself. That sort of thing.

Again, sorry for the wait!

[sunnyspot]

On the bright side, Kouhei's pretty tall, and usually more than tall enough to reach whatever book he'd need. But in a library like this, there are more than enough books shelved high enough that anyone would need a stepstool. It figures that the book he needs just happens to be one of those.

With his back turned, the students trying to get his attention go entirely unnoticed. That is, until he feels a sudden hand grab his leg, and he nearly loses his balance in surprise.

"U-Uh...."

Why are these teenagers looking at him like that? He isn't doing anything wrong, is he? Unless they want a book in the same section, that is. But just as Kouhei begins to step down, a young man approaches the onlookers with a friendly yet somehow intimidating demeanour. Is this guy.... standing up for him?

"No, it's okay! I got the book I needed, so.... It's alright. Sorry."

[reticence]

Faolan watches the understanding pass over Laurent's face, before the younger man steps around him and disappears into his room. Faolan hovers in the hallway, wondering whether he should follow after him or not, before finally deciding that he should at least move to set the harp down. Which he does, awkwardly, on the breakfast island, with a clang of strings. Just in time to pace back into the hallway to hear Laurent exiting his bedroom again.

Stepping forward, Faolan can't help himself as he slips a hand under Laurent's chin and directs his face to him so that he might look him in the eyes directly. Running his fingers through Laurent's unruly curls to brush them out of his face so that he might get the clearest view of those eyes. Those blue, blue eyes.

A soft, self-conscious smile spreads across Faolan's face as he runs his thumb across Laurent's cheekbone. "This... Will take some getting used to," he murmurs. Though by the look on his face, he's hardly complaining.

[anguinous]

"Will it? You've seen my eyes before."

He lofts an eyebrow in challenge, lips still quirked in a smile.

"Come," he says finally, and lifts a hand to catch the one touching his face. "Show me what you've brought back. Since it isn't the keys to a mansion."

Something more interesting, perhaps? Hopefully nothing dangerous, but Laurent doesn't think Faolan would bright dangerous things into the house to begin with.

[reticence]

Perhaps he has seen Laurent's eyes before, but there's a difference between his memory, even between photos, and that bright blue gazing back at him face to face.

Faolan allows Laurent to take his hand, his fingers curling around the other man's, though he takes another moment to gaze into those eyes before he nods and steps away to lead Laurent back towards the kitchen.

"No keys," he replies. "And I don't think that there's any mansion coming with it either, but. Here." He gives Laurent's hand a squeeze before he moves to carefully unwrap the linens around the harp before lifting it to show the younger man. "It... I don't know what I expected them to be giving me today, but it wasn't this."

[anguinous]

It isn't at all what Laurent was expecting, but then again he isn't sure what he was.

There's a degree of sense to Faolan getting an instrument, if he is at all similar to the person in his memories, but this one...? He supposes stringed instruments are similar to guitars...

"Is this a harp? It's small."

Smaller than the harps Laurent is used to seeing pictures of, anyway. This, he supposes, might be a different instrument with a similar appearance? He's hardly an expert on them and the differences.

[reticence]

Faolan holds it out so that Laurent can get a better look at it, if he likes. It's ornately carved, and certainly looks ancient, though the wood itself can hardly be that old.

"It is," he replies, quietly, glancing down at it as if he still doesn't quite believe it himself. "A lap harp, I suppose. Or -- well. Something similar. It's... Well, a symbol for Ireland, or that's what they use it for a lot. But I don't suppose that's why they've given it to me."

At least, he hopes not. It has to have some sort of connection with his past self -- his other self. Whatever the running theory is now. He's just not certain what to make of it himself, truth be told. It seems quite an odd thing to have received, for all that he is a musician, even in this life.

[anguinous]

"It might be. I'm not certain the logic behind what they send. Can you play it?"

Or, he supposes, the broader question is if Faolan can play any sort of harp at all. Small harps seem... less common? Or perhaps that's just Laurent's perspective -- he's never seen one before, where he has seen the tall sort.

Curious, he reaches out and runs a finger along some of the carvings on the wood. Is it an antique, he wonders?

[stagemagic]

Natsume has always been the type to live life on the edge. He's always been the type to do a little snooping and searching. He knows enough about Laurent now to know that if he wanted to kill Natsume, he had more than enough money to cover it up.

Still, he wants to see this building for himself. Might as well embrace the cold, callous arms of death if it comes.

"I'll do my best to hold my murderous impulses in check then."

And that strange emphasis wasn't going away it seems. He tilts his head in the vague direction he assumes they'll be heading.

"As the expert, I believe you should lead the way."

[reticence]

Can he play it? It seems an odd question to hesitate on, considering the answer should be yes or no, but as he watches Laurent run a finger along the delicate carvings on the wood Faolan truly wonders on the subject.

"I don't know," he replies, honestly. "I haven't tried before." There has to be a reason they gave it to him, after all. Was it his? In some bygone time? Surely if it was he would know how then. And there are other things he's found himself mysteriously capable of, without any knowledge of learning. Nothing quite so obvious as this, but. He remembers the lyrics to that lullaby, and he remembers what it means to sing the words as well. He remembers what it means to speak them, and others, and he's pretty sure if anyone spoke whatever dialect of Gaelic he found himself regaining overnight he would probably be fluent in it as well.

[anguinous]

"Well there's only one way to find out."

To try, of course. He runs his fingers over the strings experimentally, curious of the sound it might make.

"Try it. Perhaps you'll remember."

That seems to be how these things usually work.

[reticence]

Faolan supposes that there is. His lips quirk slightly at the sound of the strings as Laurent plucks at them, uncertain as to why he finds the act strangely intimate as well as it is endearing, yet he does.

"Perhaps so," he replies. Almost hoping that's the case, for the alternative would be a strange letdown. He casts about for a chair to sit himself down in for the task, before stepping across to the living room to take a seat and settle the harp between his legs, laying his fingers on the strings before glancing back up at Laurent.

"I don't know how well this will work..." he admits to the younger man, honestly.

[anguinous]

"I won't judge you."

Laurent crosses over and lounges onto the chaise-lounge, watching Faolan expectantly.

"Or would you prefer me to not watch at all? I wouldn't worry, I don't even know what a small harp should sound like."

So assuming it isn't horrifically discordant Laurent might not be aware if it's even being played wrong.

[anguinous]

The teens look taken aback by the confrontation, then frustrated that they were interrupted. There's a brief moment of indecision before one of them shoves Kouhei slightly out of the way, scans a bookshelf and grabs what they need then stalks away followed by the others.

Lauren stares after them a moment in dismay before taking a few steps closer to Kouhei. The lazy, Parisian drawl of his accents makes everything sound like it should have an accompanying shrug.

"I suppose they do not teach manners in American schools," he says, then lofts an eyebrow questioningly. "Do you want to sit down?"

Since he looks a little jittery. Laurent can't blame him. He'd be caught off guard by such a thing too.

[reticence]

He shakes his head. "No, that's fine. I'm not sure that I would do any better without an audience than I would with." And besides, he likes Laurent's company. Takes pleasure in the fact that Laurent has any interest in this in the first.

Glancing down at the harp, Faolan lets out a long breath, shutting his eyes as he focuses himself inward. On the harp, on his breathing, on whatever music he might hope to play on such an instrument as this. Is that how this is supposed to work? Does it just come to them? Is there some other mechanic in it?

After a moment of waiting for the ability to just come to him, Faolan frowns. Sighing slightly, feeling rather ridiculous, he opens his eyes and begins to pluck at the strings. This one sounds like an E. And that like a F♯. He plucks at a few more notes, hesitantly trying to make his way around the instrument to determine the the tuning and how one might even play a chord on such an instrument.

"It's... No guitar, that's for certain," he replies, glancing up at Laurent sheepishly, before trying to use both hands to play several notes at a time. Could that be how it's done, perhaps?

[anguinous]

Natsume is a little unusual, but it's hard for Laurent to tell what is simply a language barrier and what isn't. He's too French to be sure if this is genuinely odd inflection or if it's natural due to something -- some other language Natsume has spoken, some accent?

"Do you think me an expert? I might disappoint. There's plenty I don't know."

He starts to walk regardless, slowly until Natsume falls into step and then a little quicker.

"Are you new to the city, then?"

Or just... newly aware, he supposes, of its strangeness.

[stagemagic]

It's a little hard for most people to tell, and Natsume isn't usually forthcoming with that information. The emphasis has become something of habit, however, after over a year of doing it completely intentionally. It was meant to be a psychological experiment, but the only one who really found himself altered by it was Natsume himself.

"When your traveling companion is a novice, it doesn't take much to be an expert."

When it comes to traversing through woods, or any kind of physical exertion, novice might actually be a generous word for Natsume.

"I've lived in this city since I was a young boy, unless, of course, you mean something else by that question?"

[sunnyspot]

Understandably rather frazzled, Kouhei steps down from the stool and hurries to move aside, but he's shoved by one of the teens before he can, and falters slightly as he watches them walk off.

It's a bit of a surprise that a stranger stood up for him, and with a slightly confounded expression, he barely bows his head out of habit.

"Um, thanks... for helping me."

As much as Kouhei enjoys libraries, they're admittedly not a good place to talk to people. He usually doesn't have to, but whispers are a challenge for him to hear on the rare occasion that someone speaks to him. Thank goodness that they're not on a silent study floor and don't have to be extra quiet.

Though he doesn't answer the question in words, he does nod and head toward one of the tables, looking back at Laurent all the while.

"Sorry if that interrupted your reading."

[anguinous]

"I was trying to gauge how long you'd known about Retrospec, since it will be imminently relevant."

Lengthy personal experience is context on its own, lack of it might make it all sound particularly like the workings of a broken mind. He glances back to make sure his bodyguard is still shadowing them, then takes a turning on a road which leads out of the city toward the woodland.

"There's plenty of personal experience which coloured my theories, and I wouldn't want to assume how much you knew."

[anguinous]

"Not at all," Laurent protests, and picks up his own book -- moves it to next to Kouhei and scans the area idly. It had seemed like they'd been left alone, but Laurent's sharp blue eyes are cautious.

Still, he drops his eyes back to the table eventually and slips into his chair. He pins his new companion with a curious look, thinking. Under his hand, the book Laurent had been reading appears to be a fantasy novel of sorts.

"You didn't hear them?" he guesses. Too absorbed in his search for a book, perhaps? Daydreaming about something? That's easy enough to do. Laurent has been caught off guard once or twice reading something when someone approached.