faderift | you can't handle the truth

WHO: Whoever wants
WHAT: Kickoff of the truth plot!
WHEN: Right now
WHERE: The dining hall
NOTES: Feel free to use this to post open starters with prompts! Or make your own logs. Or create open posts on the network. Do whatever you'd like. No rules just right

If only the cooks had screwed up the soup. The problem is that it's a particularly nice soup today, full of fresh summer herbs, nicely seasoned, and plentiful. And so it's quite likely that you grabbed a bowl - maybe even got a second helping - and so ingested the potion that a devious hand had tipped in there earlier that day.

The effects begin to set in within twenty minutes of ingesting the soup. They may be mild - your tongue stumbling when you go to tell a little white lie...or they might be strong, and you might be overtaken by a sudden hysterical urge to tell deep truths to anyone who might listen. Or perhaps you skipped that soup, and instead, you're surrounded by babbling, confused people who want to tell you their life stories.

The potion's effects will last for up to two days. And they may at times be stronger, and at times weaker. Here's hoping you'll do minimal damage to your reputation in the meantime.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jude draws everything on with the speed an ease of someone who gets far more practice than others might, and shakes his head, pressing his lips together.

"Something in the air is right. How you doing?"

Honestly, he hopes he never actually gets used to that shifting. Used enough to not react horrified, yes, and at least it's a very quick if startling shift, but it's so strange and unnatural that he doesn't really like the idea of simply being used to it as a general.

But Jude's good people who thrives on physical contact whether he's furry or not, so Mobius has been learning to not skimp on it when the fur is gone even if it's not as much. So Mobius nudges him with a shoulder when he's all pants'd up.

"Awful, but better than a lot of people; I seem okay regarding this particular incident."

Though he knows it's got him, too, because every time someone asks him in return, he intends to just say he's fine.

"Smell anything weird?"

"Mobius. Everything in Thedas smells weird. Half your herb garden are things I've never seen."

Jude returns the shoulder-nudge, unobtrusively resting there to raise an eyebrow at him. He's noticed that he goes out of his way for this, and appreciates Mobius all the more for it. There's a reason the man's become one of his most familiar sights.

But that's a fair question, and he shakes his head, leaning one hip against the desk to think on it.

"What's in the pantry is familiar," he says, going with his gut. If he's wrong, he's wrong. "But something on the table today didn't smell like the usual rotation. It didn't set off my alarms, but maybe it should have."

"Fair enough." But he's thankful that Jude's gotten at least a bit of a sense of the usual to have...something? Maybe? "It was particularly flavorful soup today. I just figured that we got a shipment of some fresh seasonings..."

Something to consider. Mobius does not know much about food prep. One of those things he's just got a basic understanding of and no real experience save for the occasional kitchen rotation, and he wasn't exactly up to anything fancy there.

"If it's a poison, it's not one meant to kill us. Could be a prank, honestly. There are concoctions that supposedly make people a bit looser of lip, but I don't know anything more than that."

"Really? Truth serum?"

Jude speaks as someone who has had a crash course in myth becoming reality. Not much surprises him any longer.

"It could be a prank," he allows, "and I'll hope it's one. You feeling strange at all?"

"I've never seen it in action, but I mean--you could call alcohol a truth serum if you get right down to it." Obviously this is not that, but like, it's a broad definition, to make one babble truths and lower inhibitions.

"I don't feel strange. Stranger than usual. But I'm pretty sure whatever's going around has me, too. Not as bad, though. I'm not running around in a panic giving voice to every last thought on my mind."

"Oversimplification," Jude says, holding up and "ease up" hand, but his voice is all good humor.

"What makes you think it has you?"

"Because when people ask me how I am, I say something a lot more honest than just 'fine'." A shrug. "Or I say something just a little more than I intend to. I like being careful with my words in my own way."

Jude laughs aloud, the sound rolling and rich.

"So if I ask you how you are and you say fine, there's more to it?"

"Not always," he says with a little bit of exasperation. But not frustration, not anger. Not at Jude. Playful exasperation, if such a thing exists. "Usually I'm pretty good, compared to a lot of people. Even this! Even this isn't so bad as what others have got. But the nightmares have me fucking exhausted, and this on top is not...fine."

But hey, turnabout is fair play, so: "What about you, do you have this bug that's biting?"

you can't handle the truth

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