songerein | Open | November Catch-all & Dream

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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

Of me. I don't mind at all.

[ Whatever comes out, he's just going to throw it away, anyway. Or give it to the creator, if he needs it.

He takes a step closer, peering at the device. With a finger, he points at the larger button on the top. ]

Point the lens at me, and press that button. I don't think you'll break anything.

[ He has great faith in Beatrix.

He steps back to his spot, and plasters that awkward smile on his face again. Is it obvious he's never done this before? Not even posed for a painting. ]

[This all seems rather simple. What could possibly be the catch? She doesn’t bother disguising the questioning expression seeping its way into her features. In the end, she supposes if he’s certain, that may be the only thing that matters. If something goes wrong, it is definitely not her fault.

Well. It’s probably not her fault.

So as she lifts the camera, she’s peering through her end to find him opposite of it. Just. A. Picture. Easy.

With a careful adjustment of her hands, and a note to not include any of her fingers in the frame, she gently presses down on the button, which gives way with a soft click and then she lowers the camera, so she can eye Trahearne normally.]

Really, that’s it?

That's it. That wasn't so bad, was it?

[ Once it's finished, Trahearne relaxes, a more normal smile gracing his face. He takes a step back towards Beatrix and lightly points to the front of the camera, where a small, square-shaped paper slowly rolls out. From what the gadget's inventor showed him, that is where the image will eventually be. ]

The photo should appear on that little paper in a minute or so, if you don't mind waiting with me.

[She's still wondering what's might possibly result from this and has no way of determining whatever that could be. Something akin to a painting, she supposes. But what would be the point in someone asking others to go around and take these pictures? What exactly are they testing? That it works at all? Are they trying to capture something specifically?

Beatrix suddenly wishes she'd asked for more information, but maybe she'll have the time to make that pursuit in her questioning.

He redirects her attention onto the small piece of paper that emerges from the camera and with some care and reverence, she removes it from the contraption. It's still blank so far, but... As she's lifting it, her head tips as she waits for the contents and moves closer to Trahearne, so he can get a look as well.]

I can wait. [Really, the only thing she was going to do was read her poetry.] So are these going to end up being returned to whoever it is asking for these... pictures to begin with?

[ As Beatrix moves closer to him, Trahearne takes a step towards her. He glances down at the paper, faint, dark splotches beginning to appear haphazardly across the image, before looking back up at her. He doesn't think much of it. ]

I believe this is a test run to see that the camera is functioning as intended. The camera is going back to the inventor, yes, but I'm not sure if they will want to keep the photo.

[ Would they want to hang onto photos of random people? That would be strange.

Speaking of, he glances down at the developing picture, and almost does a double-take. Though still faint, he immediately recognizes it as a scene from the dream he had the night prior. His eyes go wide. A golden flush bursts across his cheeks. ]

--Oh. That's unexpected.

I see. I suppose you will get to keep this one. Perhaps I will. I am quite fascinating by this little thing.

[And she does like art. What is this, if not living art?

Although what shows on the paper that gradually fills in over time isn't... what she took at all. She doesn't have an immediate feeling of concern, but it questionable at best. When it comes to things in this world, however, it seems like many things don't go according to plan.

His reaction is a little more puzzling, honestly. There's recognition in his eyes and the gentle blush of gold that strikes along his cheeks.]

...What is this? It is not what I took. Obviously.

[She offers over the paper to him if he needs a better look.]

[ It is a fascinating little contraption! If they ever go on sale, Trahearne might even get one for himself. Quicker and more useful than sketching things himself, if anything.

The image appearing on the paper, however, steals his breath from him. It shows Trahearne and a human man, messy black hair partially pulled back, dressed in a sleek adventuring outfit. They sit side by side underneath a starry night sky, silhouettes of distant mountains and nearby evergreen trees blotching out parts of the curtain of night. The only source of light is the small fire that burns before them, over which sits a small pot, steam rising from it. A huge grin graces the man's face, as though he laughs at his own joke, and Trahearne's mouth is twisted in a lopsided smile.

After a moment of silence, the real Trahearne tentatively lifts his gaze to look at Beatrix, gauging whatever reaction she might have. But he ultimately looks back down at it; the flush is still over his face. He doesn't know what to say. ]

It is not, no. [ What he ultimately says is not a very helpful addition. ] This...is an image of a recent dream I had. I...

[ He can't find words. So he reaches to scratch at his ear instead. ]

[It's an intimate moment of a sorts. She doesn't need to look very long to put that much into place. The nature of the relationship doesn't really matter, but she gets the impression that one, this is something from home, and two, it's important. She studies Trahearne for some more moments, as if trying to draw lines and answer questions that she hasn't actually asked of him.

He's always a bashful man, isn't he. Even if she were to inquire, she suspects he would do the same thing she would, which is to say, he might just evade his way out of the conversation.]

You need not say more if you do not wish to. We all dream of home, after all, and the things that we have left there. I do not think it is something you ought to be embarrassed by. As such, you should hold onto this.

[She points to the photo with a small, understanding smile.]

[ At last, Trahearne straightens herself and meets her understanding smile with a sheepish one of her own. He always seems to find himself at a loss of words when faced with the man's visage without prior warning. And he can see how she might have taken it as embarrassment. ]

I'm not as much embarrassed as I am surprised. The photograph you took of me turned out to be much more than that.

[ He gingerly takes the photo between his fingers, gaze lingering on the image before looking up at her.

With certainty he can say that Beatrix is a friend. An ally he trusts--they fought dragons together, after all. They fought Eustace. And little does she know, but it was her actions that prevented him from being dragged down into the icy depths. He most certainly would have given in without her. All to say that he is not embarrassed sharing things about himself he thinks might...illuminate some things regarding his circumstances. ]

This is dear friend of mine, and his companionship meant a lot to me. I doubt I am ever going to see him again, so this is precious to me. [ He glances down at the picture, and chuckles a bit. ] I hope the inventor lets me keep this.

[She watches and listens with care. It is a rare moment that they have where they can speak so openly and honestly and for people like either of them, to do such things is difficult. That he feels he can even remotely touch upon something that must be of importance to him is something she finds admirable. Perhaps, she might say she even envies him a bit. She would be a better woman if she could bring herself to be more open. She doubts such a thing shall ever come to pass.

Her head tilts as she takes in what he’s willing to share, filled with largely questions, none of which seem particularly appropriate but plenty prying.]

Hm…

[His feelings reflect a touch of hers, she realises. That’s how she feels about all of them in this world, after all. Maybe that’s why he finds it so easy to speak with her. Perhaps Trahearne has already come to terms with the idea that things in Reverein and the related areas of this world are all very, very temporary.]

I will go with you to return the contraption and I will make the request on your behalf. That way you need not share it with the inventor. Sometimes our memories, these special things, may feel most important when we are not required to share them with just anyone. I rather like the way you looked when you saw it. I should like to see that on you more. I will insist that you keep it.

[ Beatrix hums, and Trahearne looks up at her. He watches the thoughts go through her mind, always guessing what she might be thinking about but never certain, and eases as she makes her offer. But--

"I rather like the way you looked when you saw it. I should like to see that on you more."

And now he's embarrassed. His eyes drift upwards, suddenly felt seen and exposed. He's sure the only people who have seen him make that look are Ori. Phantom. Eustace. And only under very specific circumstances. He's supposed to be putting those feelings to rest, coming to terms with the impossible gap between life and death, between dream and reality, not clinging onto what thready visions this realm occasionally bestows upon him. ]

Oh. [ It's a little utterance of surprise. For a moment, he thinks about addressing that and all the little complications that come with it, but decides to gloss over it. Maybe another time. His gaze settles on her again. ] Thank you, Beatrix. I would appreciate that.

[ He nods in the direction he originally came, where he hopes the inventor still is. ]

[It is almost laughable. His response, she realises, is a reflection of likely how she would reply in a similar situation. Beatrix also decides with relative swiftness, that she prefers to be in that position where she’s flustering others, even inadvertently, than the reverse. If every conversation with her can be a bit like a dance, then she must be the one leading.

Admiring him for a few moments more, she dips her head with a subtle nod.]

You hardly have need to grant me thanks.

[But again, she’d be doing the same thing. She looks to where his own nod is directed and as she steps past him, Beatrix gestures for him to follow along, still clutching a poetry book or two against her protectively.]

Do you often dream of home, Trahearne? It occurs to me that I do not know much about the world you come from or what the people are like there. I have yet to be able to determine if you prefer being here or there.

[ Trahearne dutifully falls in step alongside her, gaze naturally falling to the picture in his hands again. It's a bit weird seeing his dream immortalized in an image like this, to see his face so clearly when he's used to the vague impressions and feelings he's often left with in his dreams.

He doesn't notice the smile on his own face when Beatrix asks; it's there when he looks up at her.

Ah, he remembers them discussing a similar thing on the beach, all those moons ago. It feels like such a distant memory now. They're closer compared to them. Most definitively friends, instead of interested acquaintances. It's about time he be more honest with her. ]

Often. When I dream, it's almost always of home. I love Tyria and all the people in it, and I would return in a heartbeat.

[ His expression drops, as does his gaze back onto the photo. Gently, he runs a finger over their faces. ] But I love it so much that I gave my all to protect it. [ A pause as his mouth twists slightly. Though he's accepted the reality by now, it still stings. ] I am dead, Beatrix. I cannot return home, no matter how much I want to.

[As he speaks, she listens. She always has, of course, but even she finds that time has had its way with her and with them. When she listens nowadays, it’s accompanied by a certain gentleness about her. Beatrix hesitates to call it patience, but it’s something very much akin to it.

How often does she dream of home? Probably every night. Nightmares. She still has them. She’s simply resigned herself to them, truthfully. But a pleasant dream… it sounds nice to have. Maybe one day she’ll have something more like that.

But that pleasant thought melts away as quickly as it’s come.

”I am dead, Beatrix. I cannot return home, no matter how much I want to.”

Beatrix isn’t sure what she’s expected. Not that, for certain. Characteristically, she doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she merely contemplates. It says a lot that he’s willing to tell her that. She cannot treat it as though it’s nothing. She’s also not the sort to be so dismissive, though some might argue that.

When everyone else will be inevitably returned home, likely against their wills, Trahearne will return to nothing. It leaves a soft ache in her heart that she tries to carefully keep from her expression. Her pace subconsciously slows and she shakes her head. How unfair to him. Between the two of them, she deserves that fate. Not him. If she could change that, switch places with him, she would without an iota of hesitance.]

Forgive me if I seem to be lacking words. [She begins with some care.] I believe I was not expecting to make such a discovery. [Eyeing Trahearne with some thought, she wonders for several long moments if hugging him would be inappropriate. That she even considers hugging him at all is a little surprising. What would Oriphi do…? Probably cry, honestly. She’s so deeply empathetic.]

I do not like the idea of surrender. Perhaps I can find a way to bring this home to you. If not that, then it is the responsibility of us here to give you a home. It cannot possibly compare. It cannot possibly replace. Yet it would be remiss not to try at all.

[A home here would be better than no home at all… And death, Beatrix, suspects, would be the most loneliest existence.]

[ The silence is telling. Trahearne knows the truth is always a lot, especially when he reveals it to those who have come to care for him. But it's a key part of who he is now, and the main reason why he is here to begin with. He can't always hide it. It's not fair to his friends, nor is it healthy for him.

Beatrix asks for forgiveness, and Trahearne shakes his head. She needn't apologize at all--he should be, if anything. It was always an inevitable topic whenever his former second-in-command came up; perhaps it was a pattern only he noticed. She didn't know. He doesn't blame her at all.

(Ori did, in fact, cry when she found out.)

If there's one thing he likes about Beatrix is that she's a doer. She goes right into remedial methods without dwelling on the facts or the grief for too long. He's lucky, he thinks quietly to himself, to have a friend like her.

He smiles at her. ]

You and Phantom and Ori and all the rest have already done a wonderful job giving me a home and a second chance at life in this dream. [ He feels the pain settle in his chest again, and he drops his gaze back to the picture. Partially to keep himself from crying in front of her. ] It will never be a replacement for Tyria. But it doesn't have to be.

[ A home is still a home. ]

[She doesn’t like how it sounds when he puts it the way he does. Even though there’s no other way to phrase it. The fact of the matter is that maybe their efforts here will ultimately end up for naught. The worst part of it all would be the notion that even when they should return home, they will never remember this Trahearne, or the impact they made on his life, or the knowledge that he will return to nothing.

Beatrix doesn’t like that at all. For a while now, she has despised the idea of losing what she has gained here. Now she despises it for someone like Trahearne who has stood to gain nothing from any of this. It is a well of artificial hope given to someone who has no use of it. Perhaps he is more the optimist and doesn’t see it that way. She couldn’t know without asking and she refuses to do any such thing.]

I… [She begins somewhat uncertainly. Beatrix shakes her head slowly, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her. She would merely be resigned, if she were in his position.] I have a difficult time believing that. I wish there was something more that I could do.

[It’s a surprisingly soft thing for her to say. Strong in its own way as it exposes that Beatrix can admit that she doesn’t always have the answer to everything.]

[ Trahearne slows to a stop as she speaks, a worried frown crossing his face as he does. Is there anything she, or anyone else could do? What would make any of this better? He cannot be brought back from the dead. Would he even want that? Tyria has surely moved on by now--as much as he selfishly wishes he could be there to see things through, perhaps it's best things are left in better hands. He has been given a chance here, and he's taking it. That his human friends even give him a chance at friendship, despite his nature, means the world to him.

That resolve, the insistence that things can be better, reminds him of someone. ]

Your companionship--your friendship is more than enough for me already. [ He reaches to gently place a hand on her shoulder, a quiet plea for her to look at him and listen to what he has to say. And regardless if she does or not, he gives her a small, reassuring smile. ] I am happy here. That I even have the chance to reflect on my life in Tyria, to use what lessons I have learned to better the lives of everyone else I've met here is a blessing.

But I understand where you're coming from. And I appreciate the sentiment, Beatrix. [ He nods. He doesn't want this to be a big deal. ] It's all right.

["...your friendship is more than enough for me."

His words settle between her ears and for several moments, despite the way hand presses to her shoulder, she's locked into her thoughts. She's not a very good friend, she thinks. Never really has been. Still doesn't actually know how to be one. Overthinking it, probably. Someone like Kisara makes it seem so easy. They all do, actually. As if it's so... simple to care for another person. And for someone like Beatrix, it's just not.

What a mess of a person she is.

Forcing her expression to something more even, she directs her attention back onto him. This is not the time to think about herself. She will have a multitude of opportunities to do exactly that.]

If you are happy here, then I suppose that is all I could ask or expect of you.

[She concedes, but not at all proud about it. It is just another situation that she (and others) are powerless against. It leaves a dull ache along her insides, but perhaps one she needs to feel.]

I suspect others have said it to you before, but if there is ever anything you have need of, only say as much. If it is something I am able to achieve, then I will do my utmost to see it done.

[ On the contrary, he finds their similar natures to be complementary. They get along easily, and have interesting conversations, even though Trahearne never feels pressured to say anything around her. She is different from the rest of his friends, he will readily admit, but that doesn't make her a bad friend. She's a friend nonetheless.

That she's showing willingness to fight against a hopeless situation is more than he could ever ask for. ]

Thank you.

[ He offers a half-hearted smile as his hand drops limply by his side, and he slowly sets off again towards the inventor. ]

I promise, if there ever is anything, you will be among the first to know. But in the meanwhile... [ He looks up at her again, waving the photo and nodding towards the camera. ] ...I'm perfectly content sharing small moments like these with you.

[ He means doing little things like taking pictures together. ]

[She knows if she heard the same words from herself that it would be wiser not to believe them. But it's Trahearne. That's something she doesn't think they have in common. Whatever moment of uncertainty she has she puts aside. She has to trust that Trahearne will say something if he needs it. And she can't press.

As he waves the photograph back and forth, she watches it with some curiosity. And after a moment's consideration, she gently clears her throat.]

Perhaps we should have one taken together.

[She's not fond of anyone having a picture of her, but... This is a special situation.]

If you would like, that is.

[ Trahearne looks between her and the camera, his smile widening a touch. Why didn't he think of that? Even if he isn't the one to ultimately take it home, he thinks Beatrix deserves to keep it for herself. A memento of their friendship. ]

I would. [ He comes to stand beside her, but then realizes he doesn't exactly know how they will pull this off. ]

How should we do this?

[It's a good question. They could ask someone else to do it for them, but she's admittedly not comfortable with that. Implications and what not. She doesn't want to have to explain anything if she doesn't have to. Since she's the one with camera in hand, she ignores her personal preferences for some moments to nestle in close to Trahearne. The lens, she's noticed is gracious, but not exceedingly so.

Using her fingertips to feel about for proper grasp and the mechanism that actually takes the picture, Beatrix is a little bit more confident.]

I can take it like this. No guarantees it is going to turn out well, however. Also, do not take it personal if I am not smiling in it.

[It's not because she isn't comfortable in his presence. She simply doesn't like smiling. If he's going to have a picture of her, it should be the her he's most familiar one. The scowling one.]

[ Trahearne freezes for a brief moment when Beatrix comes to stand beside him, but he chides himself: how else are they going to take a picture together? Certainly not four feet apart.

Eventually, he eases again and reaches to steady the camera, kneeling down a bit so that they're more or less level with one another. He doesn't know if it's entirely necessary, but better safe than sorry.

He chuckles and smiles at her. ]

Never. I wouldn't have it any other way.

[ Beatrix scowls and frowns and huffs. That's just who she is. ]

[Her smile in return is incredibly light. Present, but light. She may not smile much, but that does not have bearing on how she feels within the heart. Beatrix waits until she feels they’re at the proper height, the proper positioning, and eventually, she manages to snap a photo of the two of them.

Now they have but to wait.

Offering over the camera to him, she looks just a touch softer, as if it’s a rare side of her to see. Something he may appreciate more with an image he can paint in the mind as opposed to something so physical.]

Here you are. Hopefully it will actually take something of the two of us and not… whatever else it may see to spit out.

[ Trahearne carefully takes the camera, cradling it as it prints the paper. ]

I'm not sure how it will handle two people.

[ There's a little smile on his face and a jesting tone to his voice. What sort of abomination would that create, he wonders?

But it doesn't--the image he sees developing on the paper is that of himself and Beatrix. They both seem calm and happy to be in one another's company; it's hard to imagine that he had given her his most devastating truth not moments earlier.

A fond smile crosses Trahearne's face as he gazes at it for a moment, then hands it to Beatrix. ]

You should have it.

Open | November Catch-all & Dream

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wrap soon? c:

🎀!!