week 7 meeting

[murchada]

[welcome back to Quark’s! the doors are open. the sign is still on the wall next to the door, with a glaring new addition. a few of the tables and couches have been pushed together and bento boxes made for everyone (Riful’s is mystery meat. don’t worry about it.)

Quark and Cerejeira are both here, of course. as with the last meeting, there's paper and pens for notes. gotta get our records (ha) straight, right? although Cerejeira is dressed a little different today.

once everyone is gathered and sat down, she claps her hands... then looks a bit embarrassed about it.]

Okay, uh... [she clears her throat.] Let's get started.

( navigation )
★ trial/mystery voice ☆ motive ★ the lift/new info ☆ chatter ★

Comments

cw: hallucinations

[markofnobility]

[ after the talk of bombs and badniks has slowed:]

... if I had asked you to work on the emerald, maybe...

[ oh, Ferdinand is just looking at it over her shoulder, peering as he tendeds to do, brow furrowed and bottm lip between his teeth]

cw: hallucinations all the way down probably

[stringup]

[ Despite herself, she immediately turns around to look. She can't not do so when she's still getting used to his absence. ]

You—

[markofnobility]

[ he smiles when acknowledged, of course he does]

I suppose there's no point in fretting over it now!

[stringup]

[ She knows she shouldn't be acknowledging him. She especially knows there's no point in speaking her feelings to a hallucination, even if it's one of her beloved.

But she has felt the lack of him keenly, from going about her day to lying in bed at night. ]

...There isn't, no.

cw: blood

[markofnobility]

[ he leans forward, bracing his hand on the counter to look over the gathered clues and papers- as if looking for the detailed notes he's always taken at the meetings and not finding them. Of course, no papers move under his hand, no heat bakes off him pressed so close, no tickle of his overgrown mane brushing those next to him. Not even the chill of a ghost. Just an empty hole pretending to be a man]

Well, nothing for it but to keep pressing forward.

[there's a small patterpatter as blood drips from his nose, broken in some unknown way in the "duel" that weekend, and down his chin, onto the countertop. As inky black as a portent]

[stringup]

[ Ah, this really is like the portents, but in a way worse. She's only going to be reminded he's dead, after all. At least she can say that it's not so much frightening as it is lonely for her.

Velvet reaches over to slide some of the papers closer to her, away from his immaterial hands. ]

I'll handle the notes this time, don't worry.

[ Like she hopes that will make him settle down. ]

[markofnobility]

[ his brow furrows in confusion before he laughs, slightly sheepish, as if embarrassed. Of course "he" is none of these things. "He" is no more aware of what "he" is doing or why than a sunbeam understands the image or colors it casts when shined through stained glass. That sound and that expression just an echo of times she's gently taken something from his hands he was fidgeting with it, or put a hand to his mouth to calm his anxious chewing. An expected output to a familiar input. Somehow both more and less than a clockwork doll]

Ah. Of course, my apologies dear.

[ but it DOES work, making him step back]

[stringup]

[ Right then, Velvet's heart aches. Ferdinand would act like this, and perhaps she did what she did because it's as habitual to her as her normal attempts to calm his anxiety or fidgeting. She wishes she could brush her hand against his and take comfort in the fact he's there as they try to figure out their next move.

...But she can't expect any of this from a hallucination.

Velvet stays quiet as she starts to write notes. No more talking to him, she tells herself. ]

[markofnobility]

[ and the phantom is well behaved. Fluttering on the edges of perception. Maybe even vanishing occasionally as the light of her attention turns away to other things. But never for long. He clings as well in death as he ever did in life]

[stringup]

[ Like if she had chained him to her, perhaps... ]