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OPEN | i can do it on my own
Who: rose lalonde (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
knitpick) & OPEN
What: teenage god works too hard and fails at basic self-care
When: early september
Where: the institute and around olympia
Warning(s): N/A, i'll edit if anything comes up
[She'd began her studies of native magic with protective spells, her curiosity piqued by Evras' mention of it. But she'd soon hit a wall in her quest. Either due to her own inexperience with this manner of magic, or because it was so far removed from the sort she's used to, she found herself struggling to produce anything truly useful. The barrier spells she attempted would form only briefly and with great effort before falling apart, and she couldn't figure out how to stabilize them in any efficient manner.
The idea eventually came to her of perhaps setting the magic into an external source in hopes that it might prove more lasting. A workaround, maybe, but still appealing to her more romantic side.. It called to mind old favorite stories of great wizards with staves imbued with power, magic amulets and enchanted cloaks and all that nonsense. A great deal of research and experimentation and sleepless nights in the Institute lead to a technique that could theoretically work, if only she could get the magic to stay put; it seemed to slip off the objects she attempted to enchant like water off a duck's back. Finally came the idea to work it into the very object itself, tying the magic into an item's very components before they were put together to cement it in place.
So of course, knitting became the subject of her first prototypes. Knitted goods lacked the elegance and drama of enchanted swords and magic staves, but they were something she was actually capable of making herself without learning a whole new craft, and it was easy to conceptualize weaving magic in with the yarn.]
At any point of the day, whether middle of the afternoon or late evening, anyone in the Institute might pass an office door left open to let a bit of air in, a few papers densely filled with purple handwriting trailing out into the hall. Inside, a blonde teenage girl is passed right the fuck out on her desk, inelegantly sprawled and hands still loosely holding onto a bundle of yarn and knitting needles like she'd fallen asleep in the middle of whatever she was working on. Judging by the position of her elbow and the papers scattered across the edge of the desk and the floor, she probably knocked a whole stack over in her sleep. Whoops.]
Also, she maybe needs to pick up more yarn. Maybe. Shh.
Regardless, she is out for a walk in the city during actual daytime like a properly functioning human being. Well, not quite a "walk", because she's flying. It's easier to navigate the sprawling city from higher up, and she avoids the crowds entirely, so why not? She moves at a leisurely float, occasionally dropping neatly to the ground to examine some storefront or duck inside a shop. Anyone traveling the streets of the markets like a normal person might find a girl in a bright orange hooded tunic suddenly floating down from above, nonchalantly landing down nearby to peer in a shop window.]
So she finds a little cafe and purchases herself a coffee and sandwich before settling down at a table outside. It's a nice day, after all.
But soon enough, her knitting is back out. Her sandwich is forgotten with only a few bites taken out of it, and her violet eyes intently focused on her work. The technique she's come up with for enchanting is still a new and shaky thing, and it takes a great deal of concentration to work the magic as she needs to. It doesn't look like anything special to a passerby, but each stitch is as tangled with the spell as it is with the rest of the yarn.
So focused on the magic aspect of the craft, Rose belatedly realizes she's lost track of her pattern. She frowns at her knitting for a moment.]
Fuck.
[A sigh, and she pauses in her magic-weaving to spread the fabric of her knitting out, examining the stitches to remind herself of the pattern and find her place in it. There, the second purl in the ribbing...
It doesn't really matter. From her experimenting so far, the quality of the enchanted item doesn't seem to affect the spell itself. But hell if she's going to let one craft slip for the sake of another.]
knitpick) & OPENWhat: teenage god works too hard and fails at basic self-care
When: early september
Where: the institute and around olympia
Warning(s): N/A, i'll edit if anything comes up
[She'd began her studies of native magic with protective spells, her curiosity piqued by Evras' mention of it. But she'd soon hit a wall in her quest. Either due to her own inexperience with this manner of magic, or because it was so far removed from the sort she's used to, she found herself struggling to produce anything truly useful. The barrier spells she attempted would form only briefly and with great effort before falling apart, and she couldn't figure out how to stabilize them in any efficient manner.
The idea eventually came to her of perhaps setting the magic into an external source in hopes that it might prove more lasting. A workaround, maybe, but still appealing to her more romantic side.. It called to mind old favorite stories of great wizards with staves imbued with power, magic amulets and enchanted cloaks and all that nonsense. A great deal of research and experimentation and sleepless nights in the Institute lead to a technique that could theoretically work, if only she could get the magic to stay put; it seemed to slip off the objects she attempted to enchant like water off a duck's back. Finally came the idea to work it into the very object itself, tying the magic into an item's very components before they were put together to cement it in place.
So of course, knitting became the subject of her first prototypes. Knitted goods lacked the elegance and drama of enchanted swords and magic staves, but they were something she was actually capable of making herself without learning a whole new craft, and it was easy to conceptualize weaving magic in with the yarn.]
i. THE INSTITUTE[Rose's office in the Simwe Institute isn't very large or glamorous, but it's a place to work. And work she sure as hell does. Too much, maybe. Jade would probably be upset with her, but how can she resist the call of progress? She can't. It's easy to forget things like meals and sleep and the passage of time when she has a project to focus on.
At any point of the day, whether middle of the afternoon or late evening, anyone in the Institute might pass an office door left open to let a bit of air in, a few papers densely filled with purple handwriting trailing out into the hall. Inside, a blonde teenage girl is passed right the fuck out on her desk, inelegantly sprawled and hands still loosely holding onto a bundle of yarn and knitting needles like she'd fallen asleep in the middle of whatever she was working on. Judging by the position of her elbow and the papers scattered across the edge of the desk and the floor, she probably knocked a whole stack over in her sleep. Whoops.]
ii. OUT AND ABOUT[Eventually, Rose does make herself get out of her office for a bit. She brings her work with her in a little knitted satchel she'd thrown together for practice, of course, but it's mostly just for a break. She could use some fresh air and a walk. Jade would worry if she didn't take a break occasionally, so she's just being a thoughtful friend.
Also, she maybe needs to pick up more yarn. Maybe. Shh.
Regardless, she is out for a walk in the city during actual daytime like a properly functioning human being. Well, not quite a "walk", because she's flying. It's easier to navigate the sprawling city from higher up, and she avoids the crowds entirely, so why not? She moves at a leisurely float, occasionally dropping neatly to the ground to examine some storefront or duck inside a shop. Anyone traveling the streets of the markets like a normal person might find a girl in a bright orange hooded tunic suddenly floating down from above, nonchalantly landing down nearby to peer in a shop window.]
iii. EATING PROPERLY IS FOR CHUMPS[And eventually, her stomach does remind her of the need to eat something. Right. That's a thing she hasn't done since like...yesterday. Whoops.
So she finds a little cafe and purchases herself a coffee and sandwich before settling down at a table outside. It's a nice day, after all.
But soon enough, her knitting is back out. Her sandwich is forgotten with only a few bites taken out of it, and her violet eyes intently focused on her work. The technique she's come up with for enchanting is still a new and shaky thing, and it takes a great deal of concentration to work the magic as she needs to. It doesn't look like anything special to a passerby, but each stitch is as tangled with the spell as it is with the rest of the yarn.
So focused on the magic aspect of the craft, Rose belatedly realizes she's lost track of her pattern. She frowns at her knitting for a moment.]
Fuck.
[A sigh, and she pauses in her magic-weaving to spread the fabric of her knitting out, examining the stitches to remind herself of the pattern and find her place in it. There, the second purl in the ribbing...
It doesn't really matter. From her experimenting so far, the quality of the enchanted item doesn't seem to affect the spell itself. But hell if she's going to let one craft slip for the sake of another.]
iv. WILDCARD?((OOC: Hit me with some other prompt if you'd prefer, or pester me via PM, on plurk @ tinybro or on discord @ orbynit#4811 if you wanna work something else out!))
it can only be merlin going into offices he shouldn't
This is dumb, Merlin is dumb. But he's still in the Institute in the later hours of waning daylight, having come back after whatever delivery he made earlier in the afternoon, and he's just... innocently having a look around. Not snooping! He wouldn't snoop. Never.
It's not snooping until he spots an open office door and peeks inside as he walks past, and definitely snooping when he sighs to himself and walks right in, considering Rose slumped over her desk. Their first meeting went so well, so perhaps instead of waking her up, he'll just... tidy up. That's, uh, normal.
He's picking up an empty mug to add to a stack of things that look like they need organizing when he turns and absolutely kicks over a wastebasket with his dumb clumsy feet. It's loud. It clatters away so loudly. He may die here, but instead he looks over his shoulder at Rose and waits for his inevitable fate.]
of course
So yes, she stirs at the sudden racket. Groans in protest and leaves her face pressed to the desk for a moment while she tries to roll the soreness out of her shoulders, before sitting up to see what's going on.
And...Merlin. The Merlin, if her drunk memory serves her correctly, though remembering that only brings back a rush of embarrassment. Not for the first time, she wishes her drunk memory wasn't quite so good.
Ugh. Her makeup is totally smudged, she can feel it. Literally feel it sitting on her skin in spots it shouldn't be. Neatly, she rubs a finger just below her lip for confirmation, and when it comes away marred with black lipstick she's both unsurprised and annoyed. She frowns at the stain on her finger for a moment before looking back up at Merlin with a very flat look.]
Do you try to catch me at my worst moments? Because you're distressingly good at it.
[Remember the giggly, expressive girl you drunkenly argued with? She isn't here right now. The girl here is cool and poised somehow despite having just woken up in the middle of a disaster of an office with smudged makeup.]
the destined encounter
Well, he's politely ashamed enough of kicking the wastebasket over to be busy shifting his stack of mugs and papers around and stooping to stand it back up while she assesses her makeup. He won't comment.
He probably won't comment.]
Usually I'm the one being caught at the worst possible time, so no, I didn't mean for any of this, actually. [He hefts the papers a little.] You dropped, well, everything.
[Mmmmm... awkward. Okay-] You really shouldn't sleep on desks. Terrible for posture.
no subject
And you really shouldn't wander into ladies' rooms and poke around while they sleep. Terrible for one's reputation.
[She busies her hands with rewinding her ball of yarn a little, regathering the loose yarn it had trailed when left to roll across her desk while she slept. But those violet eyes remain fixed on Merlin pointedly.]
no subject
[Don't impugn his honor like that!! It's an office and the door was open; this is rude, what he's doing, but it's not inappropriate. He thinks. He's assuming. Please.
He shifts on his feet like he's not sure whether now is the time to bolt or not, but eventually decides on shuffling toward the desk. To put the papers down.]
I wasn't sure what order to put these in.
no subject
[There's just the faintest quirk at the corner of her lips, only barely there, that suggests she might be teasing him a little. But at the sight of her papers all in jumble even that hint of humor fades, and she sighs exasperatedly. She puts her yarn back down to take the papers, aiming a look of displeasure at the stack.]
I'll have to go through them and reorganize, then.
[Fucking hell. She really needs to start numbering these. Or see if this world has paperclips or staples. As much as she likes the idea of binding together all her handwritten notes into a proper one-of-a-kind book when she's done -- it's very old-worldy and romantic -- going without any modern tricks to hold the sheaf together in the meantime is a struggle.]
no subject
[That doesn't make it better that he walked right in, but also, it's an office! He's still holding these mugs and doesn't know what to do with them, so he just stands there.
Hmm... hmm... her total lack of organization reminds him of Gaius, a little, so congratulations Rose - you remind him of an old man.]
Do you need a hand?
no subject
She's ignoring him for a moment, letting him just stand there awkwardly holding her random stuff while she flips through her pages of literal purple prose. His offer draws her eyes up from her notes, but the look she gives him over the top of them is pointedly wry.]
I'd ask if you happen to know anything about working enchantments into physical objects, but as I recall, you seem to think you know everything.
no subject
I know plenty of things, so that— whatever I said was at least halfway accurate.
[But has he ever done that? Probably not the way she means, so... he shrugs.]
no subject
Oh, of course. What a fool I was, thinking I might know more about my own brands of magic than Merlin Jr. from an alternate universe. He knows "plenty of things", after all. My hubris will surely be the death of me once again.
no subject
That's not—mm. It's just Merlin, you know, I can't be a junior version of myself. Your hubris must endear you to so many people.
[GOING GREAT, MERLIN]
—What I mean to say is, I don't... know how to enchant objects. Like that. Having nothing to do with anything I said at the tavern because frankly I don't remember most of it.
no subject
Of course you can. But perhaps the concept of older versions of yourself in alternate universes is another of those rare things you don't actually understand at all. It's quite alright. Realizing just how little you truly know is part of growing up.
[rose he is older than you.]
As is learning to admit your own lack of knowledge. So it would seem you've already done a bit of growing since the tavern. Well done.
[Is she bitter? Nooooo. Of course not. Her congratulations are entirely sincere and she's very proud of him for his apparent personal growth.]
no subject
But not that guilty.]
I was trying to offer to stack some papers, but alright, I can see you're awfully busy preparing your next lecture. I'll go and put these cups in a sink somewhere, shall I? After all, I'm too immature to do anything but tell you that you're right all the time.
no subject
It's a nice change from being told my very role in the universe is wrong.
no subject
You— [he scoffs, looking aside and frowning. ugggh.] Ever since I got here I've heard hardly anything but all these assumptions and expectations about, well, me—and half the people I've met don't even believe I'm telling the truth when I say who I am.
[So... stay with him...] So I may have spoken out of turn and taken it out on you. Because of all the idiots. And the mead. It's not much of a reason, but there it is.
[......deep inhale,] I'm... sorry.
no subject
She smothers those thoughts quietly. That defensive first instinct has served her poorly in the past. Letting a breath ease out of her as silently as possible, she keeps her eyes on her notes and resumes sifting through them.]
...It's fine. You were drunk.
[And so was she. But, y'know. Details.]
no subject
So it's not that he doesn't believe her, but he waits an extra couple seconds to see if another barb is coming before he decides it's safe to keep talking. Maybe.]
I'm told I'm not very good at holding my liquor. [it was so hard to tell...] As an excuse that usually does wonders if I haven't actually been to the tavern.
no subject
Even strangers she kind of worshipped growing up. Shit, that's still an awkward thing to think about.]
That alcohol was absurdly potent. I think men three times your size would have fallen victim to it.
no subject
Then it's a wonder I'm not still asleep in the street. [It was like a month ago, but.]
no subject
[Is that...humor? It's possible. She's still busy looking busy, though, so there's no quirk of a smirk or anything to give it away for sure.]
no subject
[Is this humor?? It's part humor, part genuine question. He's never messed with magic in dreams, but it sounds completely possible. Sooo.]