|
|
Post by Mitchell Carr on Sept 30, 2021 9:40:29 GMT -8
He wasn't sure if his conversation with Oren actually happened, but it didn't really matter when the Mirrorskin responded in the affirmative to the text. He'd written it shortly after the drama with the overpass, and set an alarm for 6 to send so it didn't look like he was up all night. Unlike the incident with Yuan, he did tap Fawkes with a vague recollection that someone might have filmed, levying all he had done for the Elemental to keep it quiet and a personal favour. Lucky Jack would be contacted that any calls around that time and location were likely to do with him. Not offering much more, and not looking to lose another day splitting from consciousness, he opted for just text and then leave his phone at his place. Likely he would just end up as a desert ghost story who leaves their shoes behind, but it might impact work if no one got to the online component fast enough. Carr reminded himself that it probably would have been worse to spread himself across the freeway—the Mask disappeared upon death. Picking at the needling shards, he got himself cleaned to the point where his mental health disorder (you know, the other one) was satisfied to let him out the door, mirror hopping to the closest location to avoid driving or bumping into people he didn't remember fucking or making friends with. Cailleagh was left a handwritten note with a bogus update for when she woke up from her shift, and he put his phone in a jacket pocket to look like he forgot it in the rush. Sunrise coffee was quiet in the early AM before the 9 o'clock rush flooded the business. Picking a popular place in Paradise made a tight window for private conversation, but it was close to his place and offered a social buffer if something went wrong. Mitchell wasn't even sure why he was weighing those factors, and it was probably just a habit with who he worked with for the Freehold. By the time he settled in a corner, the lack of distractions and things he would be getting done with tech ended in him dozing with his chin in his hand. |
|
Oren
.
written by Hiver
Posts: 242 
|
Post by Oren on Oct 3, 2021 13:34:43 GMT -8
Today was breezy and a little chilly. The nerve. But Oren wanted to wear the vee-neck. Capital Vee. So when he got the text he threw on a scarf. What was with Changelings and cafes. He'd never understand. Maybe it was never to be understood. If it were up to him, Oren would have all of his dates in a bare storefront, yet-to-be-rented, with mostly concrete and barely painted dry wall. Barebones furniture. Remove the small talk about the environ entirely. If this were New York, he'd be a lease away from a niche boutique where he could charge an exorbitant amount of money for a set of chairs from Pier One Imports. Genius. Yes, he was distracting himself. It let him clear the clutter. Muzak to sweep the kitchen to. Something to tighten the Mask. Oren. Oren. Oren. Next thing he knew, he was sitting in front of Mitchell Carr. Text me if you need anything, he remembered himself saying on the phone. It was Summer, then. Which thing would this be? Was Mitch going to dance around it or actually tell him? If Oren offered a dance, would Mitch accept? Take it easy, string bean.
"Hi!"
Easy!
"Hey." |
|
|
|
Post by Mitchell Carr on Oct 3, 2021 16:46:25 GMT -8
The smile Mitch flashed seemed genuine, tension draining with someone more familiar. Other than that, the best descriptor Oren would think of was frazzled. Appearance-wise the Dancer was as immaculate as ever; but it was the way he kept his back to the wall, taking the occasional glance to take in the space he was in like he needed to remind himself of something with timed precision.
"Hey yourself," he laughed, taking a moment to pop his neck from the awkward impromptu nap. He was surprised at the scarf, "Is it fall already?" Sure, the average temperature would still be in the thirties, but lots of people ran with the excuse for a fashion changeover.
He actually got up, a bit antsy and too tired to sit.
"Did you want to stick around here or...? There's a park nearby if you'd rather walk. The food here isn't bad." Something something tea. "How's the gig been, with the TV series? Zelda's been getting you some decent contracts lately."
|
|
Oren
.
written by Hiver
Posts: 242
|
Post by Oren on Oct 10, 2021 9:19:40 GMT -8
"Oh it's been great! I love the show. We've been renewed for a second season."
He wasn't particularly hungry, but he had no qualms getting two teas to go. "What do you say, a green tea? Oolong?"
Oren made sure to order two teas to go before allowing himself to be whisked. He was sure of that Autumn whip, Eis; she would know her teas. But that conversation would have to be saved for another day.
He kept himself in lockstep. Providing a rhythm for Mitchell was essential. The Dancer was surely capable of doing it on his own. But it was Oren's way of...anticipating a need, before it arised.
"They've been talking about a musical episode. Y'know, for comic relief. I could put in a word, if you're looking for something mundane to do."
|
|
|
|
Post by Mitchell Carr on Oct 10, 2021 21:47:27 GMT -8
"Congrats," he responded, genuinely enthusiastic with how well the other was doing. An easygoing shrug was offered as Oren fluttered about tea choices, admitting he wasn't an expert on his options. A small bubble in the back of his mind almost asked if Oolong was caffeinated—a question that held no meaning anymore with his apostasy—causing the Dancer to blink as he briefly reflected on what his family might be up to these days.
The other offer took him by surprise, snorting a laugh, "Oh- like, acting? Geeze, they almost kicked me out of drama when I was a kid. That's a talent I can't wrap my head around—I can't keep it up and break character constantly. I feel ridiculous when I try, so it's always cool when I see other people pull it off like it's nothing." It was nice to ramble, actually, so he found himself continuing to do so instead of adjusting the conversation to only circle around Oren. It was mindless, but as far as he could tell he wasn't asleep or skipping time. "If you're talking about choreography, or whatever, maybe? But I'd be a bad choice to put a word out for since I'm kind of all over the place."
He bothered to sip the tea, wondering how he was coming off or making sense. It felt like words were evaporating as he spoke them and he was losing the thread of the topic if he didn't pay proper attention. The stepping helped, where he didn't have to adjust. "-Plus, I've never danced in front of anyone."
The statement was as odd as it sounded, given Mitchell Carr's entire profession.
The Fairest smiled, "Have you been making more friends? You seemed to be yourself more often at community functions."
|
|
Oren
.
written by Hiver
Posts: 242
|
Post by Oren on Oct 12, 2021 7:45:17 GMT -8
"I like to think so."
He hadn't, not really.
"I'm working on it."
He was.
"There's one."
There is.
"We met at Imbolc. Lucas? Chevalier. Goodness, it's so strange saying that when we so often invoke the Chevaliers...for other things. He's super friendly, and I'd like to work with him in a more official capacity."
|
|
|
|
Post by Mitchell Carr on Oct 12, 2021 15:01:20 GMT -8
It was hard to picture someone like Oren isolated from the rest of the Lost. He could just be legitimately busy, but the Fairest mentally brushed off the natural concern that their whole blow up might have affected the Mirrorskin's willingness to reach out to people beyond shallow roles.
Oren would be fine. Hopefully. Maybe.
"You're right they are kind of opposites. I always assumed the Entitlement was being ironic..." Mitch blinked, rummaged through the shards that passed as his memories these days. "Oh!" He actually felt a surge of relief when the name wasn't meaningless to him. "Yeah, Litha. You guys were dancing at Ostara, too?" there was a question there, like he didn't trust his own accuracy. "He sounds like a really nice guy. I think-" What did he think? The stuff he was going through with Riley really wasn't any of his business. Blocking the Darkling from going after the guy had been a reflex that still didn't sit right.
"Did you want me to-"
You're in no condition to introduce him to people.
His faced twitched in a wince, "Did you ever follow up with Kai and Fawkes?" There was a beat, where the Dancer forced himself to couch the start of a problem. "Everyone seemed kind of shook after the whole dream thing."
|
|
Oren
.
written by Hiver
Posts: 242
|
Post by Oren on Oct 30, 2021 11:08:30 GMT -8
"Sure, you could call it that."
There was something beneath the statement that Oren let show. Frustration? Mild indignance? It wasn't the therapy. It wasn't Wakefield. It was the idea that Kai didn't trust him enough to say it to his face. Oren had forgiven her. He saw the value in what had been done. It did not change the fact that he had been betrayed.
That said, Oren had never felt more alive.
"Are you...shaken up?" he asked. Oren already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear the Dancer say it.
|
|
|
|
Post by Mitchell Carr on Oct 30, 2021 20:13:29 GMT -8
The temptation was there as Mitch noted the out. It was pretty easy for him to get the Lost to start going off about something upsetting them, where the thread of conversation would swing wildly away from talking about himself.
The pause was long enough to be considered awkward, before he nodded. Stepping closer for some ounce of comfort, he blinked a few times as he mentally sorted where to even start the cascading mess. "So, I didn't really know at the time when I agreed to help you guys, that the shit that happened in Whitney did something to my head. I don't know how much you know or if anyone ever said anything...? 'Cause no one told me." He noted whatever knowledge Oren would offer before continuing to rip the long band-aid. "I always thought the whole concept of 'blacking out' wasn't consistent with, you know, reality? I just know I got shot. Archie and Riley never mentioned anything so I didn't think it was..." he shrugged.
"But it wasn't a one time thing, apparently, because I started missing time, and I hadn't realized it yet before we messed with the Arcadian memories." Mitch seemed to be stuck on sounding apologetic, like he was mortified at the idea of volunteering with something so delicate when he was unstable.
"I'm pretty sure at this point I killed some people—that's also not the point, I guess, but it pisses me off that I don't know, but I also don't want to ask." His foot got caught on one of the cracks in the pavement, not exactly causing a stumble but enough to swear under his breath as he snapped his fingers and course corrected.
"Then after the shared dream I think something else got knocked off kilter, because I assumed it was, like, the side effect of becoming more Arcadian? But I start getting messages or running into people that apparently I was supposed to know, or, I very clearly remember things that I find evidence didn't actually happen. The really funny thing, though, is that it didn't actually change anything," he laughed, talking fast, "Like, I guess I was still carrying on appointments as normal and it's like it didn't matter, or maybe I was just freaked out at the idea of cutting people off when they were desperate, like it would cause more damage than me just dealing with it. I narrowed it down that I was missing around three days, tops, and asking others who know better about Lost issues. But then I got this- um, this voicemail- But that was bad because I lost a week, I think. I'm not too sure on that."
He paused for a moment, realizing how he was sounding. "I'm not...once it clicked that I couldn't maintain it, I haven't been doing Bishop stuff."
|
|
Oren
.
written by Hiver
Posts: 242
|
Post by Oren on Nov 12, 2021 4:49:26 GMT -8
"Can't do your job if you don't even know you've clocked in."
He held back a laugh. This wasn't some flight of fancy Vegas bender. The Dream stuck, worming inside them like hot cider. It wasn't finished with them.
"We need to do it again, Mitchell. Straighten some paintings. Sweep the floor. Get you back in shape. Until we do, you're just going to keep getting rug burn, and with that kind of friction, you aren't going to end up as the glass, tempered. You're just going to wear yourself thin. And then you will be nothing. Now, what kind of friend would I be if I saw you like this and didn't do anything about it?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Mitchell Carr on Nov 14, 2021 14:05:31 GMT -8
With uncanny precision, Mitch chucked what was left of the tea in one of the passing trashcans, idly agreeing that being stubborn about his Entitlement would be silly. He wasn't really sure why he had been so angry in the moment, and had signed it off that he was stressed and irrational; the point was to iron out the kinks so he could do better.
Other questions were breezed past, or perhaps considered unimportant. He had the numb thought to question if he had even said as much as he had.
The tired smile faded at the suggestion of trying again, blinking as he reflexively examined his hands. A violent shiver took him by surprise as he crossed his arms, exhaling through clenched teeth as he forced down the reaction. Sharp crystals pierced through diamond veins, settling as the Dancer regulated back to where he was supposed to be.
"Mnh- I don't. Think that's a great idea. I don't know the lasting consequences of messing with Bastions. Uh..." he kept staring off, wiping the heel of his palm across one of his eyes. "It's not really anyone's responsibility or about being a good friend. You're helping by hearing me out... I didn't expect things to have a quick solution. Shit's crazy," he chuckled quietly.
|
|
Oren
.
written by Hiver
Posts: 242
|
Post by Oren on Nov 18, 2021 5:20:38 GMT -8
Oren scratched the back of his head. He was fishing for some intuition and found himself lacking. Some sliver of clarity that he could weave into an elevator pitch. But Mitch's caution was all that he could scavenge. That made him want to suck his teeth. Groan about it. Then he remembered Mitchell's actual problem.
"No one told me about Whitney. I knew you were shot, but everything before? Zilch. Everything after? Nada."
That last part wasn't completely true. He did kill someone.
"I won Chugunkin's grace, but that's where it ended for me."
That part was pretty much true.
"But do you really think our little sugar plum party was the end for us? You becoming more like Them isn't just some flavor of executive dysfunction. You don't shake that off with mindfulness and a day planner. And this isn't something you can just cliff dive by yourself either. I'm not saying right this minute."
And this was when Oren stopped, and really looked at the man in front of him. "I'll do some sniffing around. Can't convince you if I don't know what I'm talking about."
"I'm here to listen. Always. Just...let me do this, okay? The rest can be settled in your time. I just hope I have enough to get what we need."
|
|
|
|
Post by Mitchell Carr on Nov 18, 2021 8:07:29 GMT -8
"Nice job," he offered, still stiff as he stared off for a moment. Being reminded of his loss of humanity sharpened his attention with an almost morbid fascination, torn between the idea of catastrophic failure and the innate drive that was branded in his flesh to Be Better.
"Hey, a day planner helped me realize my life is on fire," Mitch joked, trying to take the edge off of what he was potentially facing. The Dancer innately synched with Oren stopping, eyes rimmed grey with quicksilver from spilling emotions.
"Oh! Fuck- I know what-" he looked equal parts unsure and frustrated. "I have an idea what would help me. Didn't we have this conversation?"
Oren knew they hadn't, but the Fairest seemed careful not to look too closely; not out of a sense of pride or shame, but genuine caution as if the revelation of unreality would be legitimately harmful. He considered that Oren forgot, or that the Elemental already knew the risks and was trying to placate for time for when things were safer. Mitchell felt guilty even mentioning it again.
"I've talked about this with my Entitlement too; I'm trying not to be helpless, I promise. I'm aware I'm really sick, it's just the moral issue of either getting myself killed, which, sure, doesn't hurt people really but it will cause some hiccups and probably make some depression worse when they feel like their help is gone..." He shook his head, getting back on track, "There are journeys Changelings take to regain parts of themselves lost to the Hedge. I know it's normal to be a coward and hate conflict. I know it's not normal to have gotten to a point where I miss chunks of time if I upset someone. With the Dream, I realized that I'm like this because I had that will carved out of me, and that's why I remember things from before when you, Kai, and Fawkes only have flashes. I think it's beyond a traumatic adaptation where the complete erosion of myself kept me together, and that's not what I need out here."
His jaw clenched, looking away briefly as he justified that Oren wanted to help and it wasn't an obligation or manipulative on Mitchell's part. "I mean, sure, going into the Hedge isn't the end of the world, but- i-it's like my current headspace will make everything worse. Your state of mind leaves you more vulnerable to the Hedge, so you're right I likely can't do this alone and make it out." He couldn't tell Oren why, it was just the rule of thumb he had been taught, like 'Don't Tell People Your True Name.' "Plus there's a fucking Keeper around. Like, how am I supposed to ask people to risk themselves over a problem I created for myself? And that's not a- I feel like even talking about it is encouraging people to feel bad like they owe me for the shit I put into this Freehold. It's not worth putting people's lives on the line."
The Fairest's Crown was cracked and causing him to blindly bleed, but it was still a Crown
|
|
|
|
Post by Krakenbox on Nov 28, 2021 19:03:21 GMT -8
Oren opted to start small: the fact that Mitch was exposing all the fault lines was an alarming departure from the norm, and convincing him to actually trust with help was another step entirely. They had a connection, at least, where the conversation was possible, so the Mirrorskin invited him back to his place to rest a bit and recover. They would pick up the subject again when the Dancer wasn't almost falling asleep standing up.
|
|
