PLAYER PLOT | Forgetti Catchall, now in the right comm

[wythersake]

WHO: Ennaris Tavane, Julius, Bastien, Viktor, Clarisse La Rue + OTA
WHAT: Strangers arrive at the Gallows.
WHEN: A week in Haring.
WHERE: The Gallows / elsewhere
NOTES: Check out this OOC Post for details.

This is a catchall post for threads with or about the forgotten characters plot. Feel free to thread about it elsewhere as well!

• OOC Info
• Rookery Post

 

Comments

[cozen]

"We had lunch last week."

He stops as well. His eyes don't dart to the crystal, intent on her face, but he's watching that, too. She's nervous. She doesn't remember him. But she has to. He slips into Orlesian, a Royan accent that's not exactly rough but a little tattered around the edges—the one that's most his own.

"We had bread and soup and I traded you some of my butter for some of your peas."

[untiltheyarent]

Fear lurches in Fifi's chest. She did trade peas for butter last week, but not with him. With her mind racing like it is, she can't seem to recall with whom, but the dawning truth of the matter is that that was an intimate moment with a trusted friend and this man knows about it. Just as he knows her nickname.

His Orlesian confirms that he's from Val Royeaux: a jilted patron? Maker only knows how long he's been after her. This is bad.

"..I," she stammers, taking a step back, still clutching the crystal, "I'm sorry, Messere." What she's sorry for is open-ended by necessity: sorry I don't remember you, sorry for whatever I did, sorry I'm about to flee. She checks behind her-- is there space to run? If he caught her, would anyone stop him?

[cozen]

As if to answer her question, a passerby cranes his head on his way past them, taking stock of their respective postures and expressions, and pauses in place to ask, "Everything alright?"

He isn't asking Fifi, though. He's asking Bastien, and not the pointed tone meant to encourage someone behaving badly in public to look at themselves and shape the fuck up. More the did this elf steal from you tone. Human-human camaraderie, instantly recognizable.

The upside is that it snaps Bastien out of it—out of the shattered-glass way he's looking at Fifi, into something put together and mildly dismissive. "Yes. Thank you." The interloper nods, dismissal hitting its target well enough he's started walking away again, even though Bastien's still half talking to him: "It's my mistake."

His attention goes back to Fifi, her face, the crystal, and he nods. She doesn't remember. He puts his hands up in a half-hearted gesture of surrender and takes a half-step back. What can he say to patch this over like nothing was ever wrong? Nothing, so he abandons that idea for a simple, "I'm sorry I upset you. If it comes back to you later, I'll be—I don't know where I'll be."

[untiltheyarent]

The manner of the question is noted, the fear in Fifi's face blossoming into terror while her cheeks pinken with humiliation; a glance toward Bastien carries outrage at one stranger's ability to turn a perfectly pleasant shopping trip into This.

She's already halfway to crying when he steps back, and she turns fully to keep her meltdown as private as possible before walking away into the crowd at a hasty clip. If he tries to follow her, he'll have a time of it.