bakerstreet | quote unquote.

[ one | two | three | or prompt me! ]

[ y/n on #1 in some modern AU setting? happy to provide starter. ]

[ y!! a starter would be great - please feel free to go wild and i will follow you. c: ]

[ As a musician, Elio thinks sound has to be the default, it has to rule supreme, there's simply no other way for him to exist professionally. Privately, though, it's different, he's been looking for the quiet for years and found nothing but disturbances and all the sounds that dreams make. You have to wonder how noisy exactly loneliness can be, he thinks, leaning on the railing of the balcony where he's standing, the large hall of the southern French chateau where he's been performing tonight emptying behind him. It was a good concert, but loud, of course. Always loud.

You really have to wonder.

Even now, it isn't truly quiet. It's mid-summer, this far south the cicadas can be heard in the garden stretching out beneath his feet and it reminds him of Italy, B. His mother's summer house and if he closes his eyes, maybe he can imagine for a second that he's back there. That he isn't alone, either.

He can make out her footsteps approaching while rummaging around in his pocket for his cigarettes, her heels against the floors, her very recognizable gait. He's here by her invitation, she's arranged the entire thing while he, in turn, asked her to also come. Not to see him, but to hear him. Listen for the silences, he'd told her via text, like a riddle.

She's clever, Margaery, Elio thinks she'll understand. ]

[ in a world dependent on internet connection and immediate gratification, silence has become a villain, of sorts. the harbinger of failure when it overstays its welcome a few seconds too long, an unwanted taste lingering in everyone's mouths as they all wait for someone, anyone, to keep the conversation going but fail to recognize the responsibility lies within themselves. in that regard, Margaery thinks she can consider herself a superhero of sorts, or at least, a very good entertainer.

people want distractions from their own emptiness, and that's what she does. she organizes events just like this so it's accessible to those who mistake culture for luxury (and vice versa) and wind up digging deep into their pockets for the pleasure of partaking in such a loud, lively evening.

she smells his cigarette smoke before she's even out on the balcony with him, just as she knows he can hear her smile without her speaking.

listen for the silences, he had said. and she's still trying to hear it. a dress or two rustling here and there, a creak in the seats - exhales, as loud as soft crescendos. when she comes to a stop beside him, her own presence becomes the culprit. but she doesn't mind. ]

You were wonderful, darling.

[ He feels her come to a halt next to him, the railing thin and elegant and sufficiently French beneath his hands and it'll bear her weight, too, easy. Shaking his head at her words, because he might be sufficiently grownup now to know what they mean, he's still horrible at accepting compliments in any natural fashion, he bumps her shoulder lightly with his own as a way of telling her, I hear what you're saying and it's not you, it's me. She has made a big spectacle of it tonight and while he's grateful, all exposure is good exposure, same with attention, he played the game with her, didn't he? Listened for the silences. Coughing in between movements, chairs creaking loudly over the music, someone being rude and commenting to the person next to them, that kind of thing.

Hoping she heard it, too, he takes another long drag of his cigarette and holds it out to her in offer. They can be intimate like that, of course, and if she doesn't want it, he'll finish it himself, no problem. ]

Did you hear the man who coughed between first and second movement. The air was vibrating still from the final crescendo, but his coughing put it to shame.

[ With a small smile, Elio turns towards her fully, side leaning against the railing now as he looks her over. She looks beautiful, as she always does. He's somehow gladder than usual that he's in an expensive tux at these events.

Maybe there's a blush in his cheeks, but it's hard to tell in the dusk. It's just the smile, the smile. ]

You put them all to shame, Margaery.

[ she goes from grinning lopsidedly at his gentle bump to declining his cigarette with a softer smile, which easily crescendos into a laugh at his words. there are some people that remind Margaery of art itself, perhaps born in this world with a strict purpose to remind others that the purest beauty can come from in so many different ways. everything about Elio is lovely, to the point where it almost pleases Margaery to see him celebrated and uplifted like a masterpiece himself. ]

He took me right out of moment. Although I suppose I should thank him, since I was almost on the verge of tears. Imagine that? A Tyrell emotional in public?

[ and she's not lying. of all the events she gets to host and attend, nights like these are her favorite; sitting quietly in the dark with the focus elsewhere, allowing herself to be lost in the elegance that's just tangible enough to leave her heart trembling. no empty conversations to carry, no fussed feathers to soothe. just the music, slowly unlocking the mask she wears until her mind is beautifully, blissfully -

silent. ]

Not you.

[ softly spoken even as her tone is playful, like a secret worth keeping even when they're alone. ]

I'd much rather have a good excuse to stand by you than put you to shame.

He is hired by the Nie sect and he is impressed by their defenses. Once he is let inside, he is told he will meet with the younger of the Nie brothers, Huaisang. The area he is told to wait in is just as well-defended as the outside and he stands, his arms crossed over his chest, taking in every sound, every smell.

Zhou Zishu is tired of killing - and losing those dear to him. If he can do this mission alone, he can avoid the latter, at least. Though the former...

He can never avoid. Not while he is the leader of the Window of Heaven. He will change his status soon, but not before this mission needs to be done.

Hearing movement on the other side of one of the doors, he turns towards it, ready for anything. Even an attack.

Edited 2022-01-08 10:13 (UTC)

((OOC: No shipping or smut but open to everything else. Also willing to provide prompts!))

Edited 2022-01-07 15:50 (UTC)

[ Books/games/show all fine, lmk which one you want. ]

[I'm leaving links to the options. Let me know if you've got a preference for game or show!]

one

two

three

four (because he'd definitely be the uncle to buy her dumb stuff like that)

[ No preference, go with whichever version you feel like writing! ]

[ Witchers have keen senses. Keener than most people really grasp.

It's very difficult to sneak up on someone who can hear your heartbeat, the merest rustle of your footsteps, a stray breath that ends up being just a little bit too loud. Not to mention someone who can also smell you coming with the ease of a hound.

Yes, it's very difficult, but not impossible. You do need to practice a lot though, just like with any other difficult thing you want to learn how to do, which is why Ciri has made her own private game of trying to sneak up on her uncles and attempt to startle them.

Yes, it is a dangerous game to be playing around trained killers, but she's an arrogant little brat who thinks she can get away with it.

Today's intended victim is Lambert, who is probably her greatest competition in the "being a little shit" department, and thus he is her favourite target when it comes to playing this particular game. ]

[When Geralt had first brought Ciri to the keep, Lambert had been vehemently against having a child in the keep again. Not to mention, a princess. This was no place for someone so fragile.

Of course, he'd almost immediately been proven wrong.

The cub was determined, eager to learn, and brought some much-needed livelihood to the old, crumbling fortress. He'd taken to viewing her as something of a rival as she was now the youngest of the keep. As of late, it was her little habit of sneaking up on the various inhabitants of the keep and attempting to startle them that had him on edge. Seeing as she'd never undergo the same Trials that had mutated the witchers, it was good practice if she meant to follow in Geralt's footsteps. Which means this is yet another matter that Lambert will not be pandering to her in.

Unfortunately, he can't simply sit around and wait for her little attempts. There are chores to be done, potions and bombs to be restocked, and notes to be added to the various records the witchers kept. He tries to keep a keen ear out for that rabbit-like heartbeat anyways, delighting in ruining her fun more like an older brother than an uncle. Hunched over his alchemical components as he is, he has no hope of catching her scent, but he can certainly listen for her.

He supposes it's good practice for the witchers, too, since it keeps them from fully letting their guard down.

Before long, he hears the light scrape of a small boot on stone, the quiet thump of her pulse, and he grins to himself.]

Y'know, if I were a monster, you'd be in big trouble right now, princess~

[ Ciri wants to impress all the witchers in the keep, Geralt most of all, but Lambert has carved out a special spot for himself in her competitive little heart. He was the youngest, the brat of the bunch, and more than anyone else in Kaer Morhen he is... like her. Carrying his pain in the form of hedgehog bristles all over, testing limits, fiercely independent.

He is also a massive pain in the ass.

So, she wants to be a pain in the ass right back. Or maybe she just wants to earn his respect (or even affection). Much like a cat who will never fail to find the lap of the person who least wants it there, Ciri has become determined to bother Lambert. To defeat him.

She squeezes herself further in behind the cabinet full of various potion ingredients that stands juuuuuust far enough away from the wall that a skinny little witcher girl can get in there. She knows that she's been caught, but she doesn't want to come out yet all the same. ]

Would I?

You would. Heard you coming from down the hall.

[He doesn't sit up, doesn't turn to look for her. He's at a very crucial step in the brewing process, and if he looks away, he risks ruining it. Which...he could always make another, but he's almost finished with this one and he hates wasting time. Throwing this one out would be a waste of time.]

Did Geralt not teach you how to stay light on your feet?

You did not.

[ She'll own that he found her out, but she is far too proud to accept that she'd been that clumsy.

She could try to cause more trouble for him, of course, but she doesn't really want to ruin the potion for him. If nothing else because it would probably earn her a hiding from Vesemir, though there is already enough witcher in her as well that she doesn't like the idea of a wasted potion either.

She does not have the patience of a witcher though, so while she stays where she is, she can't resist the question bubbling up in her ever curious mind: ]

What are you brewing?

Even if not, I heard you before you came in.

[He picks up a bowl with a mashed concoction in it and gently adds it to his mixture, little by little, making sure it gets stirred in evenly.]

Since you're here, why don't you come take a look and see if you know what I'm brewing?

[There's an array of ingredients spread out across the table, but the three within his reach are dwarven spirit, celandine, and the bowl with the mashed concoction. If she comes around, she'll see that his brew is a warm orangey amber color, bubbling gently over the small burner. Swallow is one of the potions they all use frequently, and Lambert likes to make sure his brothers are well-stocked before they leave in the spring.]

( one, two, three, four, five or prompt me. )

Edited 2022-01-07 17:17 (UTC)

one / two / three / four
or bring your own!

here

( coming straight for my jugular, i see. preferences on smalltext vs prose, timeline or actual canonpoint? i'm in the middle of a rewatch and have gotten through the first couple of episodes of s4, if that makes any difference! )

(i def prefer prose, but can go either way if you prefer smalltext. early season 4 works for me!)

( just going to go back a liiiiiittle bit and keep it in s3 since lol memory shenanigans and all that delicious tension. i'll try not to write you a novel. )

Sometimes he knows when enough is enough; when to quit, when to cut his losses and give up the ghost but if the past however-long has taught anyone in their periphery anything, it's that he'll never know when to quit when it comes to Alice.

Alice, who will always carry around a piece of his heart wherever she goes, whether she wants to or not. It's a part of her just as much as it had been a part of him, and he'd willingly given it over. ( Which … is the kind of pathetic that Penny wouldn't hesitate to drop all kinds of shit on him for, the kind of pathetic that begs the question of whether or not he's actually smart enough to know when enough is enough, and that's a loaded question if there's ever been one. )

She's looking through the book now, because she's always looking through the book when he doesn't have it, when he ( reluctantly ) relinquishes his hold because she insists they need her help, or just that she can be of some use to them, and there's a lingering little bit of guilt hanging around in the back of his mind at the thought that he still isn't sure he can trust her.

( This is what you've turned into. This is the route you're taking. What the hell is wrong with you? )

The silence has stretched on for long enough that it's more than just thick in the air; it's palpable, like too much pulp in your glass of orange juice and you have to chew your way through it in the most uncomfortable way, and while everyone knows he's always been terrible at icebreakers, at breaking anything he feels too much like he's about to crawl out of his skin to let it keep going, and he breathes out a huff that could probably be heard 'round the world as he risks shifting closer to where she's sitting.

"Are you ever going to tell me why you're doing this? I mean really doing this?"

Way to be confrontational, Q. This is certainly how you make friends and influence people.

As much as she's tried to put her feelings for Quentin aside, to convince herself that that's part of the old Alice, the pre-Niffin Alice that she isn't anymore -- part of her will always love him, she thinks. She doesn't know how to. She also doesn't know how to do anything with it anymore either. She's not the girl he fell in love with anymore. She doesn't know who she is anymore.

As a niffin she had had infinite magic and knowledge and then...she was human again and magic was lost and it was just...a lot. Not to mention the issues like the lamphrey, not the only enemy she made as a niffin.

She knows Q doesn't trust her, and the others trust her even less, which makes sense, outside of Penny, none of them were ever really her friends. The only thing that ever connected them was Quentin.

She wants to help, she does. She also feels conflicted. She's seen what damage magic can do in people's lives, what damage it's done in her own. Without magic, her brother would still be alive, she never would have died, her father would still be alive --

Maybe the world is better off that way. Or maybe it needs to be more regulated like the Library seems to think. She isn't sure. She doesn't know what she wants to do, and she keeps pouring over the book like it's going to give her an answer to her own moral conflicts. It's not.

At his question she huffs in indigence, both hurt and not surprised all at once. "Is it so hard to believe I just want to help?"

She thinks she isn't the same Alice he'd first met, the Alice he'd fallen in love with — but he can't think that, even though he's more than well aware of how certain experiences will change a person, they're still who they are at their core, at least a little bit and he can't let go of the girl he'd met in the beginning. The girl that had been through all the same things as he had, seen the same things he'd seen and felt all the things he'd felt.

( It isn't like that now, and it's never going to be like that again and some distant, reticent part of him knows that, but still can't let go, because he's always had trouble with letting go of the good things that come his way, because they're so few and far between that you might as well liken him to a dragon with its hoard.

He holds on as long as he can. )

Magic … is difficult even in the most optimistic light, and he knows that, but he's not about to give up the one thing he's been striving for since the moment he'd laid his hand on the first book of Fillory, because he'd finally found something that made him feel like he belonged somewhere and it's. Almost like an addiction, if you really think about it, the feeling of belonging and being useful, even if it's in increments, and the feeling of something familiar, and damn it. How could anyone think he would ever willingly relinquish something like that.

She huffs, and he takes in a breath and holds it before letting it out in a slow, steady drag. "I want to believe you want to help," he starts, folding his arms over his chest. "It's just … I dunno, you've been acting weird, not like yourself, and it's just." How many times can he say just in a single sentence? We might find out.

He shrugs. "It's weird, okay? It's weird."

Alice has a hard time letting go too -- she first came to Brakebills because she had been so sure she could save her brother. The irony being, of course, that she was saved from being a niffin but she couldn't do the same for Charlie. Her heart still bleeds over the death of her father, a death that was her fault.

If she hadn't pushed herself so far fighting the Beast, if she hadn't let herself become pure magic, her father might still be alive. Not to mention how she had nearly killed herself trying to take Julia's gift from her. Julia who seemed so good at healing and beginning to move on -- she envies that.

She feels so stuck.

"You said weird three times, I get the picture," It's a deflection, and a poor one at that. She readjusts her glasses, trying to buy herself some time. "I don't even know what acting like myself means anymore."

And see, here, right here is where Quentin keeps right on thinking that if he had been able to do more to help her in the beginning, if it hadn't been solely placed on her to put an end to Martin's reign of absolute terror and tyranny they wouldn't be where they are now, and she wouldn't be in the position of mourning a death that could have been prevented.

( Why can't either of them have anything nice for longer than a handful of minutes. It isn't fair, and he will always want more for her, better for her, even if he knows he won't be able to have a hand in it himself. )

It's the worst kind of feeling, that of being stuck and they're both right there together, aren't they? They both feel lost in ways they can't really put into words, and it stands to reason that that might be a little bit because Quentin has never been good with words on his end, but that's neither here nor there.

You said weird three times, I get the picture.

The sound he gives over is kind of a mix between a humorless laugh and an abbreviated exhale rolled into one, and his arms unfold only to find nervous hands pushing back through his hair like he does when he doesn't know what else to do with them, and all of a sudden he feels like an ass for bringing that question back around in the first place.

"I can't even imagine. I mean, I can, to a certain point, but I know it isn't the same." He pauses for a second, then ends up flopping down onto a nearby chair. "I guess I just don't know how to do this anymore. Pretend like everything's on the good side of normal even with everything we've all been through." Another pause, and it's a weighted one. "When this quest thing started I knew we could use your help, and I wanted it, want it, I do." Yet another pause, and this is where he starts to get frustrated with himself for being absolute shit at articulating what he's thinking.

"I just … didn't want to have to let you go again."

She had made her choice to overload on power -- she knew what happened to her brother, what happened when you used that much magic, and she did it anyways. At that point being a niffin was the only way to destroy Martin. She didn't think -- she never expected to be human again and adjusting has been a struggle. She lost her dad. She's losing information and knowledge at what feels like an alarming rate.

She feels so alone, even more than she did before. And even though Quentin is standing right there he feels oceans away from her. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't long for what they had before, but she doesn't know if they could ever get back there.

She folds her hands in front of her, which really only makes her stature all the more awkward. They're both socially inept even at the best of times -- and when have those ever been around?

"And now you feel like you have to? Let me go again?"

She supposes if she goes through with helping the Library, he will.

She might have made the choice to overload but he had made the choice to put her in that position in the first place. To put her up against that which had seemed impossible to overcome, and even if they had, could he really say the losses they've gathered are really worth it?

( He knows, at least some part of him knows that it had been worth it. That they should have been more than willing to make any sort of sacrifice they could in order to stop the destruction, the pain, the everything. And yet there's still that selfish little part of him that will always think that nothing is worth what he'd put Alice through up to now.

At least he's self-aware enough to have that kind of thought in the first place. And don't even let him start thinking of what he'd be willing to let go of if they could just go back to how they'd started. Awkward as they had been, even then. )

He takes in a breath, holds it until it feels like his lungs might burst if he doesn't let it go and when he does, it comes out of him in one low, solid whoosh, a tired sound if there ever had been one before.

"I don't know," he finally says, so quietly it barely even counts as a whisper. "I hope not."

The thing is, despite everything, she doesn't want to let him go either. She may not be the Alice she once was, but no matter what version of herself she is, part of her will always love him. He reminds her of her humanity, something she doesn't always have a good grasp on anymore.

She doesn't have a good grasp on anything. It felt like she knew so much as a niffin and the longer she's human the more she feels it slipping away from her and it scares her. Maybe it was the wrong choice even considering the Library. Lately, it feels like all she does is make bad choices.

She takes a deep breath of her own, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. When did it become so tense to just talk to him.

"But it might happen," She finally settles on. "Even if we don't want it to."

( ooc; i will backtag into infinity as long as there's interest and i have since finished my rewatch, sooo ... the feels are real. )

He knows — whether he chooses to admit it, even to himself, or not — that people are bound to change, whether you want that change to come or not, and whether it's for the better or not. Their choices have led them here, taken their hands and walked them down this path and he's not sure which way they're going to have to step if they want to get off of it. If they even can get off of it, but at the end of it all?

There is nothing they can do to go back to the way things were and he knows it. He just … a part of him hopes that there's a way to move past all this and get back to some semblance of normal. Whatever normal is for them, anyway.

( Like anything ever is. )

But it might happen.

At the very least, he does his level best not to wince at the thought of it, even if he's still so unsure of everything else; it should be a matter of personal pride that he doesn't show everything he's feeling in every little thing his face does, but there's a flash of something like the deflation of defeat that shivers through him before he speaks up again. Maybe it's more like resignation.

"Yeah," he finally says quietly, almost a whisper, like he doesn't trust his voice not to betray him if he raises it any higher. "Just like everything else that's happened since we came to Brakebills." And he … laughs a bit under his breath because, as you may know, sometimes he has inappropriate emotional responses.

Sorry about that.

(ooc: i also will backtag into forever, and plan on starting my own rewatch soon...)

Alice doesn't know what normal looks like -- she's not sure she ever did, really, considering what her parents were like. She's still mourning her father in a lot of ways; hell she's still mourning herself too. The Alice she was before. The freedom she had felt as a niffin. All of it. How can she be anything to anyone when she doesn't even know who she is anymore.

Quentin is still important to her. He'll always be important to her. He never gave up on trying to save her -- but is that enough at the end of the day?

(She doesn't know, she wishes she did)

The laughter might be inappropriate, but it also feels like a relief, a pin letting some of the pressure out of the balloon and a small giggle escapes her lips as well.

"It really has been a shit show since we've started, hasn't it?"

(( one, two, three, four, or pick your own~ ))

One ||| Two ||| Three ||| Four

Or send him one!

quote unquote.

Jason Todd | Titans | ota

elia martell | asoiaf | ota

margaery tyrell | game of thrones

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lmk if you need anything changed.

i'm so sorry this took forever ;; pls feel free to disregard if it's been too long!!

don't worry! i'm here and happy for such a beautiful tag, no matter how much later it drops in.

you are wonderful, thank you so much. ;~; so much appreciation for your beautiful tags too!!

Zhou Zishu | Word of Honor

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Paul Atreides | Dune

Jason Todd | DC Animated Movies

King Logan | Fable 3 | ota

Ciri | The Witcher | ota

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sorry for the long wait!! lmk if you want me to change anything

No worries! Going with game canon.

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jas. hook🪝peter pan

obi-wan kenobi — star wars (r!63)

richard | tales of graces f

Simon | Detroit: Become Human | OTA

quentin coldwater ( the magicians )

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flying by the seat of my pants lemme know if this doesn't work for you!

this totally works c:

o/!

i apologize if i get any details wrong, i'm due for a rewatch myself

no worries at all! there's a lot going on in this show at any given time, ffff

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i'm sorry this is a million years late, life exploded a little

oh gosh never apologize for life happening, trust me i get it

thank you. i've been moving so everything has been a little crazy

Yennefer of Vengerberg | The Witcher | OTA

Mordecai Heller ♣ Lackadaisy

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Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen | Dune

Wen Kexing | Word of Honor

Wang Lu | Once Upon a Time in Lingjian Mountain

Tony Stark | Marvel 616