bakerstreet | Ocarina of time

[ Down for anachronistic castmate chaos. Either Boba gets time-warped to the future and now there's the pint-sized version of the galaxy's most notorious bounty hunter running amok—or your character suddenly finds themselves warped onto Clone Wars-era Slave I. Happy to play with characters hailing from Legends or new canon! ]

ooc: oh he won't be happy if he's the one taken from his time, what will Miss Melanie and the rest of the kids do???

[The task is a paltry one- hardly more than that of a chore. Some minor concept as of a yet untested nature demanding the investigations of those evidently lacking in other things to better occupy their time with. How someone of his merit, however, became saddled with the mission is a question best left altogether unpressed for fear of the consequences. (Someone will be hearing of his complaints, make no mistake.)

Either way, it is perhaps because of his lackadaisical perspective towards the mission that lands him in hypothetical hot water. An undesired reaction to his presence or some other as of yet unknown trigger that causes the device to implode just as the maker of said object is attempting to defend her invention with an impassioned plea that should somehow excuse her flagrant disrespect for safety protocols. Necessary, protocols, as it would seem.

As the blast sends him flying- only a swift modicum of cast protections in a moment of quick-thinking saving him from any real damage- he has but a breath to recognize the space through which he is blown is attached to neither this realm or the next- before he lands with an alarming crack on something.

Or someone. ...Most assuredly someone.]

[ That crack being one Viera. One that had been minding his own business, actually. He had been attempting to fish - a skill that he hasn't really perfected - by wading in the more shallow waters and casting a line further out. His ears pick up the sound of the disturbance. Fur stands on end at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

But it doesn't prepare him for the sudden wall of black that comes flying at him. Consumes his vision.

And then he's landed in the water itself. Under whatever it was that had collided with him.

Holding his breath! ]

[He holds for a moment, brain overworking itself in the span of a breadth as he takes it all in- the change of environment. Of the very aether in the air itself and the way it all just seems... off, somehow, before he's pulling himself upright quickly and checking beneath himself to see exactly what it was that broke his fall.

It's unrecognizable at first- no small surprise given its form and the fact it's evidently half-drowning. Hesitantly (gods don't tell him he squashed it to death) he reaches out with a hand and... pinches the back of its apparent clothing to pull it out of the water. All at once, holding it thus, he realizes what the problem is-

It's... small. Everything is small, like he's been thrown into a world intended for younglings. Odd.]

Are you... alright?

Edited (don't look at me) 2023-05-13 05:42 (UTC)

[ For starters, Theo doesn't much care for being hefted up like some kind of drowned feline. He's not some kit to be hoisted in such a manner. Yet he sputters water and coughs. The collision itself is... Well he's a little taken aback by it but it's not like it will continue to ache and hurt. The Viera has been through far worse than that.

And that's when he looks at the thing picking him up. Where his aquamarine hues lock onto this massive frame and tenses up.

He's fairly certain that only three had survived the Sundering. Only three that could be so complete. Yet Theo recognizes, perhaps not this person themselves, but the fact he is very much staring at an Ancient. A full sized one that shouldn't exist. Save for the Watcher on the moon, he can't think of anyone he should know about.

So how - ]

Are you?

[Astraios is baffled by the reverse inquiry, especially given the circumstances. By all appearances, the strange being barely amounts to knee height and it's not as though he landed upon him, though Astraios is fairly certain he would hardly do any damage even as he did.

Still, there is another reason for his abrupt silence, one not at all to do with the tumultuous nature of their encounter. No, rather...

He hefts Theo a bit higher, the gesture incredibly rude but hard to resist as he tilts the Viera so they may look each other in the eyes a bit more properly- the masked tri-toned faded hues of his own eyes locking with a
brilliant green the color of an ocean's horizon. He knows that color, deep into the depths of his heart. Is sure he'll carry that knowledge even after he has returned to the star- the whole of his body dissolved into little more than motes of aether, scattered about the lifestream.

He is certain he will seek this color for an eternity.]

Theron...? [The inquiry is a subconscious one, voiced aloud in thoughtless wonder as he adjusts his grip by bringing up his other hand so the Viera may have "ground" to stand upon. It's impossible, this he knows. His Theron is neither so tiny nor beholden to such strange apparatuses as the extended limbs upon this one's head. (Typically, anyway.) And he feels he would recognize a familiar upon sight, should his intended be inclined to such things. But this existence... bearing such striking similarity...

He cannot help it- he pokes a rounded cheek in curiosity.]

[ This is really the first time he's been manhandled in such a way. Being picked up like this... Is just. Embarrassing. But he supposes that this is also to be expected, given the nature of the person in front of him. The individuals he had encountered in Elpis had been much the same. They had marveled at Theo in various ways and dismissed him other times simply due to his appearance. He now understands how it is that Emet-Selch and Lahabrea could have come to look down on the people of this age so.

Not that he would ever condone it.

He opens his mouth to ask again, but then stills. While never hearing the name of the originator of this soul, he knows the sound of familiarity. This man recognizes him - or rather something about him. It's happened often enough at this point that Theo can't really be surprised.

Not that he gets to answer either. Because now he has something to stand on and -

There's something pressing his cheek. ]

Do you mind? I am not some toy.

[Unbidden, a faint smile curls the edge of Astraios' mouth- so small as to be near imperceptible. The sulk is all but the same, as is the faint furrow of a displeased brow drawing up a freckle or three as his mouth purses in irritation.

Cute.]

... hm. [Astraios is forced to acknowledge after a moment, mindfully keeping his voice low and tone soft out of consideration for the difference in their stature. Still, almost as though he cannot help but to do so, that poke shifts into a brush instead- the back of his finger highlighting the edge of a cheekbone before it falls to his side. An intimate gesture, one that should not be so carelessly made, but Astraios finds he is not inclined to resist the temptation.]

What is your name?

[ Wow. He's being utterly ignored here, isn't he? At least, his words seem to be. This man is giving a sound of acknowledgement, but is it really that? Theo wonders, considering that he's still being gazed upon in a curious manner. Still being touched as well. It's a gentle and fond sort of thing...

And Theo finds himself using both hands to shove away the much larger one. Excuse him for not being too pleased with being poked at and then ignored in favor of being touched.

Though he has a feeling... It's not like one would a pet or a specimen. So what is it... ]

Mayhap I should be asking for yours first.

... Astra. [He is not keen with skill of soulsight- not like the venerable Emet-Selch or the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect. If he tried, he could catch glimpses- bits of aura or a shine in the eyes, through which the soul is said to reflect. But if he were called upon to identify or track a being across malms, it would be an impossibility for one of his talents, if they could even be called that.

Once, his classmates had teased him. Claiming his soulsight was more akin to that of intuition than a proper arcane skill. And, true enough, even now he cannot catch a glimpse of Theo's soul despite a serious effort. Not even a glimmer, which would denote a fractured or diminished aether, perhaps... But still, the feeling remains.

And so to offer that name does not feel a betrayal.]

Astra. [ He repeats it. The sound rolling off of his tongue with an odd familiarity. ] Theo.

[ Well he will supply his name, since he had been given one first. But now there is another problem that they need to contend with: this man's size. It will surely draw attention. Before they can proceed to figure out what the issue may be - ]

A suggestion. I would put me down and then adjust your own size.

[It's a sound suggestion. Astraios has traversed enough lands to know that the best way to prevent unnecessary hostilities is to integrate oneself into one's surroundings, and while he has always held onto a modicum of inflexibility past a certain point, in this at least he can see the value. (It would be unfortunate to accidentally step on something.)

... still, he hesitates. A pocket-sized Theron facsimile.

With a soft little inner sigh, he bends on the knee, uncaring of the ocean water his robes have become soaked in, to set Theo back down upon dry sand. Only once the other has safely disembarked does he call upon the aether to adjust his appearance accordingly- frowning when what comes to his call is... fragmented, for lack of a better word. Perhaps there is a limitation to this realms' resources? Is this a testing ground? Food for thought.

Mindful of that, he draws less upon the ambient aether from his surroundings and expends a little more of his own. It means he may tire more quickly down the road, but it should serve to impact his surroundings as little as possible. With a flash of light it is done, though he remains just a touch taller then that of the Viera. Not including his ears, of course, but it seems an appropriate adjustment.]

This place is...? [He inquires then, once everything has been properly settled.]

[ Theo does notice that this man seems to struggle. Interesting, since the Ascians never seemed to. Perhaps it is because they've had centuries to adjust accordingly. This ancient man wouldn't know that the abundance of aether is now... Limited. No longer is there an endless wellspring to draw from.

He blinks as the other chooses to be close in height to Theo. The Viera wonders if that won't change later, when he realizes just how short the red mage actually is. Ah well... He can enjoy not straining his neck to look up momentarily.

Though he does have questions. So many questions. He supposes that he will have to answer a few to be able to ask. ]

'Tis the same star that you were born on. A distant future after a series of events that have left it forever altered. Changed.

Ocarina of time

Boba Fett | Star Wars (Legends)

(smol) Nicholas D. Wolfwood

rk800 "connor" | detroit become human

astraios | oc

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why did this tag not go through