songerein | Open | November Catch-all & Dream

Entry tags:

Open | November Catch-all & Dream

Who: Trahearne and you!
Which: Open log
Where: Out and about in town all throughout the month, mostly the archives
What: Catch-all for the month! Dreamboard quests in Reverein and reliving the earlier years of his life in a dream
Warnings: The disfigured undead (zombies), ghost peppers, others to be added if they come up

> REVEREIN | LIVE LIFE WELL AND FULLY, AND WASTE NOTHING.

❋ harvest.
[ As much of a bookworm Trahearne is, he does understand that he needs to go outside every once in a while. And what better way to be outside than to make himself useful at the same time?

And so, the sylvari decides to help out with the harvest one sunny afternoon, burying himself among the thick leaves of the ripened harvest to really get in there and get all the goodies out. Nothing like some hard physical work to refresh the mind, right?

Unfortunately, however, the natural colors of his "clothes" and skin blend in quite handily with the rest of the foliage, especially at this time of year. When he feels a firm grab on the leaves that make up his skirt, he shoots upright and whirls around to look at you, bewilderment written all over his face. ]

--Oh! That's--that's me.

❋ photographs.
What a curious contraption.

[ Trahearne will not say no to something novel and interesting. After being handed the dreamotion camera, he turns it over in his hands, studying it. Questions about how it could have been created, how it works roll around in his mind, but he quickly scolds himself--what point is a test if he doesn't actually experiment with it?

He turns to the person nearest himself--that's you--and holds it up with a smile. ]

Let me take a picture of you.

❋ archives.
[ As the one who runs the archives, Trahearne is there all the time. Every day. By the time the sun rises and long after it sets. He rarely takes full days off; it's rare to find him elsewhere. Sometimes, he even brings his cat with him.

And so, if you have any sort of business at the archives, he's there, ready to help. He knows every book on every shelf, and at a healthy six-foot-two he can reach the top shelves. He's happy to tutor anyone who needs assistance putting together an entry. He's happy to talk about work, either in this life or the last. He's just happy to be here, to be honest. ]

❋ wildcard.
[ Feel free to make something else up, or find me on the discord or at unkie for a personalized starter! ]

> DREAM | THE SCHOLAR DREAMT OF A LAND RECLAIMED FROM THE DRAGON'S TOUCH.
[ In his Dream before life, Trahearne saw the dead Kingdom of Orr, a land that had been dragged out of the sea by the undead dragon Zhaitan, green and growing again. Upon awakening, he knew this was his life's mission: to purify Zhaitan's corruption and bring life back to Orr. His goal is impossible. Laughable, even. Yet the call of a Wyld Hunt is irresistible, so as much as he hates it, he spends weeks, months in the dead land alone, scrambling for any lead that might bring him closer to his goal.

He will eventually cleanse this land. He will eventually lead the forces that will fell Zhaitan, but not in this dream. Right now, that is many, many years away.

The land is devoid of life, cramped by unnaturally-shaped terrain, ruins of buildings that are mere shadows of their former grandeur. Oversized barnacles and dead coral from centuries under the ocean cling to the crumbling structures, towering over the soggy ground like otherworldly trees. Unnatrual shrieks occasionally pierce the silence, perhaps seabirds that strayed too close to the corruption. It stinks of brine, of rot and decay. The clouds above take on a sickly green hue, a reflection of the putrescence that permeates the land below. And dotting the landscape, all around, are graying, decaying corpses shambling about, looking for victims to which to spread their corruption.

This is Trahearne's life. ]

❋ research.
[ Orr sat at the bottom of the ocean for nearly two centuries--any original writing that may have existed on the island decayed or was destroyed a long, long time ago. It is exceedingly rare to find any in-tact inscriptions, much less legible ones.

So when Trahearne clambers this tower and finds what looks to be a massive stone tablet partially buried in rubble and debris, he can hardly contain his excitement. The first line peeks out from the dirt--"Darkness pays Orr a visit." Is it a poem? Epitaph? A warning of sorts? He has to know.

Except the tablet is nearly twice his size, almost five times his weight, and the rubble that obscures the rest of the inscription is cumbersome--it might even be supporting the rest of the structure at this point. Regardless, he's going to try and pull it free, whether it's a wise idea or not. ]

❋ cornered.
[ Despite how careful he tries to be, Trahearne isn't perfect, and the Risen are very good at popping up where he doesn't want them to be. He's ventured into one ruined structure, keen to map it out and determine what possible use it must have served, but the problem with grand buildings of this scale having been hidden underwater for centuries means the inside is essentially a subterranean maze, interrupted in places by tunnels filled with putrid water and rotting plant matter.

Trahearne should know better than this, and curiosity is coming dangerously close to killing the sylvari. He stands with his back against the wall in this little pocket of air, the only passages in or out are filled with water. Risen stagger out from the water, clawing at the ground to try and tear Trahearne apart. ]

S-stay back! [ He brandishes his scepter, though he knows it isn't much of a threat. His own necromantic minions stand before him to guard him. ] You will rue the day you crossed my path!

[ Despite what he says, the fear is evident in his eyes. The Risen are everywhere, and there are so many of them. If only he weren't alone... ]

❋ respite.
[ Nighttime in Orr is dark. With no real settlements for miles in any direction, the veil of night that falls over the island is thick, impermeable. The only dot of light is the small fire Trahearne has going--he's perched himself atop a crumbling stone structure, just large enough for two people to sit side by side. Not that anyone will come to join him, of course. He's alone in Orr, as he has always been, and he sits with his knees to his chest, as though trying to shrink himself from the Risen's view.

There is a little pot bubbling over the fire. Cooking inside are asparagus, truffles, and ghost peppers--what he always eats. It's all that really grows around here. The oysters and fish are nowhere near safe enough to be consumed.

Absently, Trahearne reaches into his pack and takes a bite out of one of his ghost peppers. He doesn't even flinch. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ As someone who visits the archives regularly, Zelda is probably a familiar face to Trahearne. (Whether or not he has a name to match that face, who's to say?) The reverse is true as well; Zelda is familiar with Trahearne and his role as the head archivist (or so she assumes), but likely has not properly introduced herself to him. She is there to work, after all, and the princess can be very single-minded when it comes to her work.

Typically, Zelda visits the archives several times per week—sometimes with Link in tow, sometimes on her own. Since October, however, her visits have increased to almost daily. Each day, she claims a large workspace for herself (usually the same space every day), which she fills with her collection of ragged notebooks, their pages thoroughly tabbed and dog-eared, along with other reference material from throughout the archives. Her Sheikah Slate is always on the table within hands reach where Zelda can readily access the innumerable pictures she's taken during her year in Songerein. It appears that she's compiling together the results of her research on local flora into a collection of reports.

On one such day, after Zelda has been working for several hours, she will approach Trahearne at wherever he usually works at a time when he looks like he's not very busy. She's carrying the Sheikah Slate in her hands. ]

Excuse me. I am sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping I could ask your opinion on a plan I am categorizing. [ It seems logical that a plant-man might have valuable insight on plant-related matters (but she could also be stereotyping him).

Zelda holds out the Sheikah Slate to Trahearne, screen up. On the screen is a close-up picture of a bunch of grapes hanging from a pink grape vine. ]

Would you describe these as 'opalescent' or 'pearlescent?'

[ Zelda is a familiar face--one, admittedly, Trahearne has never spoken to beyond courteous his or byes (and he recognizes this as his own fault). But he acknowledges her as a hard-working scholar and a frequenter for good reason, and usually makes a mental note to start a conversation whenever he gets the opportunity. That opportunity, though, always seems to escape him for one reason or another.

And so, Zelda beats him to the punch. In a rare moment, he stands idly by the potted plants in the corner, wondering if they need to be watered yet, when he hears her voice. When he sees who spoke to him, he is internally disappointed in himself--he should have said hello first. Ah, well.

But no time for that--she needs his help. He leans over, finger to his chin, and studies the image for a moment with a thoughtful hum. ]

That's a beautiful plant. But it's hard to say by this image alone. [ He rights himself, turning his attention back to Zelda herself. ] Do you remember how the light hit the baubles? It looks to me to be a surface-level sheen, which I would call pearlescent.

[ Zelda pulls the Slate back and faces the screen towards her. Her brows furrow as she scrutinizes the image. ]

I believe the light was reflecting directly off the surface.

[ She tilts her head, trying to think back to when she took this image. She spends so many of her days outdoors photographic plants that she's losing track of which ones she saw when and where. (Hence compiling her research into reports.) ]

The skin was opaque; I recall that clearly.

reverein archives

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Harvest, i cannot believe how cute this prompt was?? hdu

u_u

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Photographs

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Wildcard bc it's cursed

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Archives

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Harvest

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