Open | November Catch-all & Dream

[pactmarshal]

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. ]

Comments

[pactmarshal]

[ 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.

[roseofmay]

["...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.

[pactmarshal]

[ 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. ]

[roseofmay]

[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.

[pactmarshal]

[ 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?

[roseofmay]

[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.]

[pactmarshal]

[ 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. ]

[roseofmay]

[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.

[pactmarshal]

[ 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.

[roseofmay]

Neither am I.

[It's not quite a mutter. Perhaps just a tint above that. Mild curiosity with an underlying concern. Beatrix feels that she has shared enough of her dreams (despite it being only the one) for a lifetime.

His reaction, however, to the developed image tells her that this one is quite possibly normal. When he offers it to her, she visibly hesitates.]

Oh. Erm.

[She suspects her feelings on this come from multiple places. She doesn't want to look at herself more than she's required to. Her reflection of self is a reminder of how ego has affected her for life. There are the recollections of all she has done. There's likely more if she gets into it.]

It would be better in your hands, Trahearne. I... do not much like looking at myself.

[Vain in some ways, certainly, but mayhap misplaced. When there is no need for her to rely on her reputation, she comes to learn so much more about herself.]

[pactmarshal]

[ Her reaction is not what Trahearne is expecting. At first he wonders if she doesn't want to carry around the reminder that her friend is dead, or if she doesn't like the way the photo turned out. He doesn't mind taking another one if that's the case.

But when the real reason comes, his expression eases. He smiles. ]

I-- [ do, is what he is about to say. But he finds that strange and out of place. So he stops himself, chuckles briefly, and tucks it under his thumb with the other. ]

Very well. Thank you, Beatrix--I will treasure this photo.

[ Along with the other one. They are both important to him.

He nods to the path ahead of them again. They still have to return the camera. ]

Let's go.

[roseofmay]

[She shouldn't be surprised, but it's nice that he doesn't pry. There's no fingertips digging under her armour attempting to chip it right off. It's one of her favourite things about him. If he ever inquires, it does it so gently that with time, patience, and circumstance, eventually she's fine with divulging a modest amount of information.

Beatrix looks appreciative and perhaps a bit touched.

Treasure it, hm? What a nice thought that is. To be treasured in the way that she has grown to treasure those around her.]

Of course.
I think they will be pleased to hear that their camera is a success.

[...Potentially a chance of success depending on what the their original intention was.]

[pactmarshal]

[ There's no need to force another to divulge information they do not wish to share, least of all a friend. Otherwise, what's the point? Trahearne genuinely cares for Beatrix, and is perfectly content to wait for her to share information about herself when she feels ready. He'll always listen.

As they make their way back, his eyes travel from the camera, the photos, Beatrix, and to the inventor's growing figure in the distance. ]

I think so, too. They even have multiples from the same subject. [ That's valuable information! He smiles at her. ] I look forward to the day I can have a camera of my own.

[ So that he can remember all of them, even after they all inevitably wake up and leave. ]

[roseofmay]

[She can easily envision a camera-happy Trahearne. Given what she knows about him, it makes all the more sense. Paintings are a memory in the flesh, something physical to touch. If he should ever lose them, when he should ever lose them, then he can at least have the photos. It isn’t very hard for her to piece that together.

She watches him for several moments and eventually offers a subdued smile, gentle and yet warm in its own right. As warm as a woman like her can be, that is.]

If they deem it a success, then it is very possible they will be manufacturing them in abundance for those who want them. They would not, after all, want to produce something that did not work appropriately, after all.

[pactmarshal]

Which makes our contribution all the more valuable.

[ Two different samples, with two different results! Even if it didn't work perfectly, he can still easily see himself documenting everything he sees. Things change, and to have a visual record with minimal effort would be invaluable.

When Beatrix smiles, so does he. ]

I know you were hesitant at first. But that makes me all the more appreciative, Beatrix.

[ That, and for listening to him. The knowledge of his circumstances is not easy to bear. ]

Thank you.

[roseofmay]

[Her only real apprehension was the idea of having pictures of herself taken. That does not impede his feelings or what he wants to pursue. Regardless of her feelings, wherever they may fall, she knows she genuinely wants him to chase the things that breathe life into him.

Watching him for some moments, she shakes her head, as if she means to politely shrug off the gratitude. She doesn't need it. Didn't ask for it. That's just what friends do for one another.]

Please. You are going to embarrass me. I was only doing what you would have for me if our roles were reversed. I trust when I am in need— [Again.] —that you will offer your assistance.

wrap soon? c:

[pactmarshal]

[ Trahearne knows he can be a bit much sometimes with his sentiments, so he smiles sheepishly when she shakes her head. He almost wants to apologize, but he knows that would only earn him yet another shake of the head. So he glosses over it. ]

That goes without question. You need only say the word, and I'll be there.

[ He cares for Beatrix--and all the others who went through the harrowing ordeal with noctaere Eustace--deeply, and he would not think about dropping whatever he is doing to help twice.

He appreciates all the companionship they've given him, and he must do what he can to return the favor. ]

Don't let me keep you any longer. [ He nods to the book of poetry. ] I know you have a book to deliver.

🎀!!

[roseofmay]

["You need only say the word, and I'll be there."

Beatrix wonders why it hurts so much to hear something like that. It is both heartwarming and worthy of ache in the same breath. For several moments as she eyes him, she wonders how much of that shines through her, in the subtle shifts of her expression, despite the way she has, so often, remained so very even.

In the end, she realises she will have to remind herself that it is okay to lean on him when she needs to. Even if she feels that she can't.]

It was hardly keeping. [She reassures him quietly.] Next time, I will spend more time with you. I believe I could use that in many ways. Do let me know when you get your camera. If you get one. I would like to come with when you are taking pictures.

[In a plethora of habits that she has yet to break, she offers him a gentle bow at the waist with her departure.]