Lucius Artorius Castus | Askeladd (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
afallon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2020-05-06 12:39 pm
afallon) wrote in maskormenacelogs2020-05-06 12:39 pm
I don't want it
WHO: Askeladd, Askeladd, and you!
WHERE: Porter cities
WHEN: while feywild magic is going nuts
WHAT: Askeladd gets stuck with an embarrassing voice, and then reverts to being ten.
WARNINGS: child Askeladd is likely to come with references to some heavy topics (i.e. slavery)
1. any Porter city
Askeladd is, clearly, settling in quite nicely. Today, he's taking advantage of the spring weather to sit at one of the outside tables set up by a local coffee shop, legs stretched out and feet resting on the opposite chair. He's leisurely reading through today's newspaper, taking an occasional sip from the cup on the table in front of him. And watching whoever else passes by.
That part is getting more interesting. A woman out walking her dog starts to hover, seeming to walk on air a food above the ground. Then two feet. She stops, dropping the leash in surprise, but all that means is that she stays in one place as she rises even more rapidly, leaving the now furiously barking dog on the ground.
Askeladd watches this with raised eyebrows. "Well, she'd better start walking towards a building."
Except his voice comes out octaves higher than it usually is.
That startles him. It's not funny.
2. Heropa, later any Porter city
He stands out.
He's tried to do his best not to. When he'd woken up in the strange set of rooms, he had taken his time. First to ensure no one else was there or apparently coming soon, then to observe out the windows, trying to figure out anything he could through looking at the place outside. It wasn't much, other than confirmation that he's somewhere completely strange. He has no idea where that is. And more importantly, he doesn't know where his mother is. He can't leave her. Unless this is an afterlife, and he already has...
Still, he could see what the other people here look like - dressed in strange, rich clothes. He'd have stolen something to wear from the rooms if anything would have fit him, but it's all made for an adult, not a ten-year-old. So he did what he could. Combed out his hair. Washed his face and hands, once he'd figured out the odd knobs next to the basin in what must be a bathing room (amazing, that). He doesn't look as ratty as he could when he steps out into the street. He's just still, unfortunately, dressed in a very worn tunic and trousers, stained with ash and dirt.
He hugs the sides of buildings, trying to make himself even smaller in an attempt not to be noticed, squinting at signs and wishing he could read. He lingers just within earshot of conversations, but the talk he hears of "bluetube" and "the Jeopardy elections" doesn't exactly help.
It's only a matter of time before he becomes an object of curiosity. One concerned woman asks him if he's a "new imPort," and it soon becomes a crowd of disconcertingly friendly faces, asking him what world he's from, whether he can do magic, and all sorts of outlandish questions. He's not used to this sort of attention (he's not used to being given much attention at all), and it makes it hard to come up with a lie to make them leave him alone. "I'm just on my way to work."
That leads to someone declaring that he's far too young to work, which is ridiculous.
In the coming days, he does manage to find some appropriate clothes, and blends in more as he wanders the cities. It's hard to believe that if he's been brought here, his mother hasn't been. He visits parks, repeatedly, reasoning that of all the places he's found they're the ones she would like best. Occasionally, if he finds someone who looks particularly friendly or notices that someone's watching him, he'll ask if they've met a woman named Lydia. She's ill. She'll need help.
WHERE: Porter cities
WHEN: while feywild magic is going nuts
WHAT: Askeladd gets stuck with an embarrassing voice, and then reverts to being ten.
WARNINGS: child Askeladd is likely to come with references to some heavy topics (i.e. slavery)
1. any Porter city
Askeladd is, clearly, settling in quite nicely. Today, he's taking advantage of the spring weather to sit at one of the outside tables set up by a local coffee shop, legs stretched out and feet resting on the opposite chair. He's leisurely reading through today's newspaper, taking an occasional sip from the cup on the table in front of him. And watching whoever else passes by.
That part is getting more interesting. A woman out walking her dog starts to hover, seeming to walk on air a food above the ground. Then two feet. She stops, dropping the leash in surprise, but all that means is that she stays in one place as she rises even more rapidly, leaving the now furiously barking dog on the ground.
Askeladd watches this with raised eyebrows. "Well, she'd better start walking towards a building."
Except his voice comes out octaves higher than it usually is.
That startles him. It's not funny.
2. Heropa, later any Porter city
He stands out.
He's tried to do his best not to. When he'd woken up in the strange set of rooms, he had taken his time. First to ensure no one else was there or apparently coming soon, then to observe out the windows, trying to figure out anything he could through looking at the place outside. It wasn't much, other than confirmation that he's somewhere completely strange. He has no idea where that is. And more importantly, he doesn't know where his mother is. He can't leave her. Unless this is an afterlife, and he already has...
Still, he could see what the other people here look like - dressed in strange, rich clothes. He'd have stolen something to wear from the rooms if anything would have fit him, but it's all made for an adult, not a ten-year-old. So he did what he could. Combed out his hair. Washed his face and hands, once he'd figured out the odd knobs next to the basin in what must be a bathing room (amazing, that). He doesn't look as ratty as he could when he steps out into the street. He's just still, unfortunately, dressed in a very worn tunic and trousers, stained with ash and dirt.
He hugs the sides of buildings, trying to make himself even smaller in an attempt not to be noticed, squinting at signs and wishing he could read. He lingers just within earshot of conversations, but the talk he hears of "bluetube" and "the Jeopardy elections" doesn't exactly help.
It's only a matter of time before he becomes an object of curiosity. One concerned woman asks him if he's a "new imPort," and it soon becomes a crowd of disconcertingly friendly faces, asking him what world he's from, whether he can do magic, and all sorts of outlandish questions. He's not used to this sort of attention (he's not used to being given much attention at all), and it makes it hard to come up with a lie to make them leave him alone. "I'm just on my way to work."
That leads to someone declaring that he's far too young to work, which is ridiculous.
In the coming days, he does manage to find some appropriate clothes, and blends in more as he wanders the cities. It's hard to believe that if he's been brought here, his mother hasn't been. He visits parks, repeatedly, reasoning that of all the places he's found they're the ones she would like best. Occasionally, if he finds someone who looks particularly friendly or notices that someone's watching him, he'll ask if they've met a woman named Lydia. She's ill. She'll need help.
no subject
He glances down at the boy, thinking about the Florida heat and how he's clearly not dressed or prepared for it.
"If you want, I can buy you something cold to drink."
no subject
He squints up at the other boy again at the offer. As ragged as his clothes are, they're meant for a colder climate just as he is. But he's already accepted the offer of new clothes, does he want to add to that?
He swallows past the dryness spreading in the front of his throat. Then again, if he's already accepted the offer for clothes, a drink isn't much more on top of that, is it?
He nods.
no subject
After heading to the counter to pay, he hands the boy one of the bottles, taking the other one for himself and unscrewing the cap for a long sip.
"It's a little sour, but sweet also."
no subject
Maybe they can, he realizes, as he sees all the different kinds of drinks behind the glass doors in the wall. He wonders what the difference between some of them even is. Everything behind two of the doors looks like water, but the bottles come in different shapes with differently colored labels. Everything here would likely make so much more sense if he could read. It's good, he supposes, that he ran into someone who clearly can.
He watches how the other boy opens the bottle, unscrewing his own cap carefully and taking a small sip. He's never seen a pink drink before. His eyes open wide at the taste.
"It's really sweet." But tart, too, like the tall boy said. He squints at it, not sure what to think. Whatever else, it's wonderfully cold. He takes another sip.
no subject
"Don't drink too fast." If his stomach isn't used to so much processed sugar, Bean doesn't want him to make himself sick. He remembers when he had first come off the streets and had access to real food. His body couldn't handle it at first. He quickly learned what his own limits were.