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Post by Rowan on Apr 6, 2021 17:39:14 GMT -8
Rowan had finally gotten the call.
Fawkes had forwarded him the number and it had taken him a ridiculously long time to actually call Mitch. When he did, he'd gotten the answering machine. 'Better things to do than listen to me whine, I guess.' He had still left a message, just in case. He had been given the choice of the location, which had left him frozen. He could invite him to his Hollow? Too risky, no escape. Coffee store? Too public. What about Mitch's apartment? Then Mitch would have the home turf advantage.
Finally, he had decided to go to Mitch. He needed this to work, he really did. Something had to change, if for no other reason that he didn't know how to keep going on his own. So there he was, at the entrance of the building, looking over the buzzer numbers to find the right one. His thoughts were racing in circles like wild animals. What if he was a hopeless case? What if Mitch decided he was too much work. What if...
Stop. You won't know until you meet him. Them. Don't assume.
Rowan mindlessly looked at his hands while waiting. Even through his mien's frostbite, his fingernails were a mess. Somewhere along the line, the Darkling started biting them until he exposed the raw flesh underneath. He flexed his fingers and shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the symptoms of his anxiety.
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Post by Mitchell Carr on Apr 7, 2021 15:21:41 GMT -8
The high rise apartment itself could have been as easily mistaken for a hotel. Buzzing wasn't really an option, with Mitchell having to show up himself to lead the way. The wide hallways were clean-cut with the strip of carpet over the linoleum panels. An occasional bird of paradise arrangement was set under a glass light fixture that sent helix patterns creeping up the neutral paint.
The white door was similar to the rest, aside from the number and the fact that it was adorned by a willow wreath. Though it lacked any festive significance, it drew attention with its fresh bundle of fern, ivy, and gardenia. The Season had left its stamp on the mundane location, with a strong floral scent wafting as the door swung open with the release of the Shepherd released the lock. The loft was generously sized for the elf’s supposed income. There was a comfortable balance of space and furnishings with dark hardwood floors, all fastidiously kept as if it were waiting for potential buyers. There was another presence yet to be seen: a small pair of sandals left outside the closet, a shirt patterned with skulls and feathers abandoned on one of the sofas, Mitch frowning as he quickly slid an unfinished glass into the sink. The patio was overburdened with a garden that might have been on par with those of ancient Babylon, more used for the hobby or a place of power than a place to sit in the desert sun.
Mitchell offered food or drink or both before sitting on one of the black leather sofas. The movement should have been casual, but like everything else he did there was an almost liquid quality to every measured twitch and direction of muscle.
"Glad you called," he said, smiling easily, "What did you want to talk about today?"
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Post by Rowan on Apr 7, 2021 16:01:48 GMT -8
"If this is a bad time, we can reschedule." It felt like intruding on something that was far beyond his ken. Much like Icarus' place, or even Ivory's, made him feel inadequate. He was afraid of touching anything for fear it would break the opulence. But his host pressed on, seemingly unperturbed by the clothes lying about.
He followed suit and sat on the sofa with much less grace. It made Rowan look even paler than usual, or maybe it was the nervousness he was feeling. He had to take his hands out of his pockets and he brought them up to his mouth to blow in them as he rubbed them together. Realizing what he was doing, annoyance flashed across his face and he shoved them under him to sit on. He could explain that he had Sealed to seek professional help, but some tiny-tiny part of his mind told him he had moved beyond that point by now.
"A fr- someone I know seems to thing I might be crazy. Mentally ill? Is that the legit way of saying it?" He wasn't sure if he was still friends with Dani at this point. Probably not.
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Post by Krakenbox on Apr 7, 2021 16:14:46 GMT -8
Mitch blinks, "Hm? No, Rowan, there's no problem on my end," he said. He didn't acknowledge the tick, simply nodding,
"You can call it whatever you want. Something coming up and messing with our lives is something we all deal with at some point. That being said, there's a lot that goes on with the Lost, so..." the Dancer's head titled slightly, Spring Mantle dancing colours across the scarification that marked his bloodless features. "Before we get into anything, did you need a Pledge of Silence, or is this a casual check-in?"
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Post by Rowan on Apr 7, 2021 16:25:59 GMT -8
Rowan considered his options. Loki frowned on Pledges, saying real men solve things without involving Glamour or the Wyrd. On the other hand, the Pledge of Silence would insure his secrets and troubles would remain safe from Spring gossip. He frowned, trying to decide. There was a silence before he spoke again.
"Word. I'd like the Pledge. If the last months are anything to go by..." ... this could go in all sorts of directions. "It's not going to be casual."
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Post by Mitchell Carr on Apr 7, 2021 17:06:29 GMT -8
Mitchell sealed it, with basic parameters that he wasn't going to speak about what Rowan divulged unless it put his own Freehold Oath in danger. They worked out whether the Darkling wanted future wiggle room if he ever wanted the Bishop's help in reaching out to other members of his community that would force Mitch to apply some context to the conversation to make any headway. Pledges required give and take, so he shifted it to a Promise.
"So you know a bit about my Entitlement, I'm just going to give you a super simple rundown." He didn't sound condescending, rather, the Fairest was more trying to brush past The Mystery so Rowan didn't feel like he was here to listen to ancient pacts of Spring and divine balance and get to his own shit. "I'm not a doctor, though I've been trained by some clinical counselors. No paperwork, though. I've pledged myself to an order that revolves around healing the little cracks and voids that Changelings suffer from, like, in the literal sense." He waves his hand, joints flexing to shimmering blacks, purples, teals, and stardust as it flickered to talons. "We can pluck stuff that the Keepers planted and sew things of your own making instead. But that sort of magic requires a blessing bestowed from Spring when you gift the world something of yourself. Um...think of it like glorified community service."
He smiled, "But if you just want to talk, we can do that. On my honour, I Promise not to share anything without your expressed permission that serves your best interest, unless you pose a danger to yourself or the Freehold without intervention." The weight of the Wyrd pressed upon the room as Mitchell squared his shoulders.
"Wanna start by talking a bit about yourself?" If Rowan needed more prompting or direction, he would give it. True to the Kith, the Dancer shifted and mapped easily to the beats of the situation.
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Post by Rowan on Apr 7, 2021 17:21:26 GMT -8
It felt like the interview Rowan had had when he applied to work as a janitor. Open-ended question always made him feel lost, because they didn't give him any sense of direction or situations to apply the chart to. He shifted in the sofa as ants started crawling up his arms due to poor blood circulation.
"Um- I'm Rowan. I go by Isaac in my day-to-day life. I work as a janitor at a high school in Whitney. I'm an Autumn, even though I'm at the bottom of the food chain." He paused. None of these things mattered. He didn't feel defined by his name, or his job. His Court mattered, yes, but that was nothing his Mantle couldn't say for him. "I'm an occultist. Most of my research has been on Kiths and how they influence Changeling behaviour."
"I'm sorry. None of that matters. Where do people usually start?"
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Post by Mitchell Carr on Apr 7, 2021 17:37:40 GMT -8
"That's fine, honestly," Mitch chuckled. "Why did you pick 'Rowan'?"
It was an easy enough question. Like tattoos, saying "it sounded nice" was enough, but the Lost put a lot of stock in names and a lack of direction sometimes said something.
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Post by Rowan on Apr 7, 2021 17:51:19 GMT -8
"I Came Back in November. My old life was taken and getting it back wasn't really an option." His voice remained even, and his face didn't shift, but the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly made it evident that it still hurt to talk about it. "I remember walking down the street in clothes that didn't fit me. I didn't even notice how cold it was. But even though it's probably one the sadder days of my life, it's also one of the happiest."
He rubbed an eye, a gesture that looked impossibly childish. It took him a moment to realize he hadn't actually explained why he chose that name. "I red somewhere that rowan berries don't ripen until the first frost. They mature under stress. Dunno. Felt appropriate."
"What about you? Why did you pick your name?"
Mitch reminded him a little of Dormarch. He didn't make Rowan talked at, but more talked with.
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Post by Mitchell Carr on Apr 7, 2021 18:39:48 GMT -8
"Yeah, it does." The Dancer thought for a moment as the question was rolled back, "Uh, nothing too deep. It was the other name my parents wanted for me, and the surname is still familiar. At the time I just wanted the one anchor because the rest wasn't really relevant anymore." Mitchell looked off for a moment, absently scratching at his nose; though even that simple action looked more like a director cue than something he did naturally. "You've only been here since November? You're way more established than I was. Are you used to taking care of yourself?"
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Post by Rowan on Apr 7, 2021 18:49:47 GMT -8
So he wasn't the only one. That made sense, now that Rowan thought about it. Not everyone could simply step back into their former lives. His story was nothing special in that regard, it turns out. 'Of course not, idiot. You're not that original.'
"I'm originally from Whitney. The part that even people from Whitney don't talk about. Dad worked- works, nights at the parking lots for the bonus. Mom used to pick up a lot of double shifts at the diner. Dunno if it's still true. I was on my own a lot in a rough neighbourhood."
His hands came out from under him, blackened and bitten, to rest on his lap. By the time Rowan had realized what he had said, it was already too late to back pedal. Chances were slim, but he hoped Mitch wouldn't pick up on it. He did however seem like the type of person to pick up on it.
"Like I said. Matured under stress."
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Post by Mitchell Carr on Apr 8, 2021 8:30:41 GMT -8
Mitchell nodded, tucking a leg as she shifted in the chair, "Did a lot of time pass for them? Or are you stuck with a replacement who's not an adult yet?"
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Post by Rowan on Apr 8, 2021 13:43:30 GMT -8
"The thing looks like a fifteen year-old with no eyeballs," Rowan answered almost offhandedly. He refused to acknowledge it as a being. "I've no idea how much time passed for me, I don't remember."
"I'm stressed. A lot, lately. But like. It's not from the things people expect me to be stressed about." Tentative steps, opening up a little to test the waters. Rowan had been honest with other before, just to be told that his experience didn't matter or that he should stop whining. It's been a little over a year and had gotten used to keeping things to himself, most of the time.
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Post by Mitchell Carr on Apr 8, 2021 18:56:07 GMT -8
"I don't know, I wouldn't shaft the trick the Keepers pulled on you. Time loss isn't something we all suffer from, but it impacts your experience either way. Were you looking to reconnect with your family in any way? If you could, I mean," Mitch prompted, watching the Snowskin immediately skate around his first trauma as a Lost. That nasty surprise sent no small number to the Iron Spear alone. "It's not weird if you don't or do. We have a shared experience, but everyone's an individual, right?"
He waited patiently for the Darkling to continue, eyebrows raising a bit as he kept a serious expression, but the eyes were soft enough.
"Go ahead."
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Post by Rowan on Apr 8, 2021 19:09:22 GMT -8
He sighed at let his hands move again, complementing what he was saying with gestures. It helped him gather his thoughts better on abstract subjects.
"It's all tied together. Kinda. I had a fight with my mom the day- the day- . I come back and I'm a perfect stranger to her, because I look like an old man. I don't even remember growing up."
"Like. People keep expecting things from me, things that a normal person should know and I don't. It makes conversation really complicated. One time, I thought I was asking a simple question and got publicly humiliated for it. I've tried to hold back, go at a pace I'm comfortable with, but I'm always forced to speak when it's convenient for others. And don't even get me started on the way I come across."
"It's stressful, because the simplest social interaction becomes a minefield. And on top of that there's the whole thing with my body where-" He was talking too much.
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