paradisa | one ➢ dictated, & some spam

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cassel sharpe

one ➢ dictated, & some spam

[Cassel isn't sure - hasn't been sure - how to ask this question. Even now he's pretty positive he's not wording it right, but if he waits for the perfect phrasing to pop up in his head, he'll be waiting forever.]

[So basically, screw it.]

What would you do if you woke up and looked in the mirror and saw someone else? Or if all your friends were suddenly someone else? Would you change yourself like that if you could, even if it scared other people?

How important is your face?

A. STABLES.

[He's learning to love the horses, the weird ones and the normal ones, even if as a city kid he still has no real idea how to groom them, much less ride them. The stables are comforting, warm and natural-smelling, and when he's not exploring he's usually resting in some corner, knees tucked up under him and a book on his lap, or his eyes closed, just listening.]

B. GYM.

[. . . and when the frustration and the sense of isolation in a crowd gets to be too much, he heads to the gym. He never really bulked up, but training with Superboy once upon a time left him wiry and strong, and he has no intention of getting weak here, in this castle full of strangers.]

[He spends most of his time with the punching bag, focused and sharp, and leaves exhausted. It's worth it, though - and at least it's something familiar.]

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[Pitch has visited the stables a few times since his arrival. He has a fondness for horses, though they don't like him much-- his presence tends to freak them out. As soon as he steps into the building, several of the horses begin to stomp nervously, snorting and tossing their heads.

He quickly spots the boy in the corner and heads in that direction, intending to lean over and get a look at what he's reading.]

[OOC: Info on what sorts of characters will be able to see/sense him!]

What reason is that to change your face?

[When David wasn't roaming the castle, playing pranks on the ghosts and anyone else who walked by, he was himself in the Gym, meditating. Cassel might come across the skinny, barechestested young man floating a good couple of feet off the ground, his legs folded underneath him, his eyes closed. At Cassel's entry though, David speaks up at one point, probably startling the young man.]

Good questions all. If I might lend a machete t'yuir philosophical thicket, a man's identity's the mos' important thing he's got. At th' end o' the day, who we are's what dictates th' mark we leave on th' world.

[David's identity was, for obvious reasons, very important to him. It had taken him close to two decades to actually figure himself out, a process he wasn't even done with yet. He's actually had the experience, looking in the mirror and not seeing his own face, his own family and friends being strangers to him. It was only through finding the "real" David that he was able to survive it all.]

[ She'd wandered in here for about the same reason. They weren't so much with the horses in Neptune, not unless you could afford the country clubs. And hey, I was a girl once or twice. What kind of a little lady didn't try to dream herself up a horse every once in a while? ]

[ Veronica sees Cassel before he sees her, all tucked away into his own little hidey-hole. What is he, asleep? There's nothing jarring about her presence, at least; she's light-footed, and all she has are a few whispered encouragements for the horse as one of her hands rubs at its nose, sliding up towards - ]

What do you think? [ She asks aloud, posing with the horse and its head hanging out of the stable, horn and all. ] Does this unicorn make me look fat?

[His head snaps up at the unrest among the horses, and he thinks - thinks - he hears something moving that's lighter and quicker than them. Nothing to see, though, so he looks out into the dim light for a moment before returning to his book.]

[It's an old book, one he read when he was a kid - Half Magic. He's barely started, and is now flipping pages idly, vaguely unsettled.]

( ooc; i think cassel would slightly sense him if i'm reading this right >.o let me know if i should change anything! )

It isn't. They're separate questions.

[Are you saying his teenaged drama is not completely clear Haytham because that's rude.]

[Cassel half-turns to regard him. He hadn't paid too much notice to him before - more than none, less than tons - but now he scrutinizes the other man without any shyness whatsoever.]

Oh yeah? I'd kind of agree with that. [Kind of. Mostly. Ninety percent.]

So what impact does your appearance have on your identity? What's the connection?

[He hears her, but he doesn't hear her hear her - not to pay attention to, not to give a shit about. At least, not until that comes out. Then a sly smile starts to play around the corners of his mouth long before he actually looks up, which at first it seems like he won't do at all. Like he'll ignore her. Maybe he's asleep after all.]

[But then, nope, he's up, he's closing his book with a snap and putting his chin on his hand, elbow on his knee, a Thinker on a haystack.]

We-ell . . .

[David opens his eyes, and lets himself float to the ground.]

Guess it jus' depends on what a person thinks marks 'em as unique, special. I've got my eyes [He gestures at his face, the mismatched green and blue that mark him as a carrier of the heterochromia gene.], an' this pile o' hair on my head what resists all attempts ta tame it. [He runs a hand over his head, briefly smoothing his jet black hair, only for it to spring back upright as soon as his hand clears the back of his head.] Both o' these things make me who I am on the outside, remind me that I'm still me when I open my eyes. For me, it's a pretty big deal, knowin' that I'm still me at th' end o' th' day.

[A bigger deal than anyone would ever realize.]

[Pitch hmmms as he peers at the book; it's not one he's read himself.

By now, he's figured out that the boy can't see him. Time to change that.

Pulling out his journal-- if Cassel looks up, will look like the journal is pulling itself out of nowhere-- he writes a word on an empty page, and holds it up.]

Hello.

[OOC: You're fine! I'm not going to police other people's decisions on how much they can see him.]

[Well, that sure is something. Cassel narrows his eyes at the journal, then lets his eyes drift through the air around it, trying to figure out how it's being suspended - by what, or whom.]

What's up, mysterious floating journal? Nice day we're having.

Seriously, what the hell?

[David's eyes remind Cassel of Lila, which is enough of a shock to make him blink silently for just a little too long. Everything he says is more or less along the lines of what Cassel's thinking, though, and so he nods.]

So if someone took that away from you, changed you somehow, you'd be pissed. Right?

It is a nice day, isn't it.

But I'm not a journal. I'm just invisible to you.

Oh. Cute.

Well, become visible. Or I'm stealing your journal.

You can try. I'm fast.

I'm only visible to those who believe in me. If I tell you who I am, and you don't insist on assuming I'm insane-- then you should be able to see me.

_{[ Well, Casse, prepared to have your quiet afternoon interrupted - kind of. A high whinny plays through the stables and the stamp of a hoof on the concrete of the aisle, followed swiftly by the trod of boots. ]}

Hahah, yes, it is good to see you too, my love.

_{[ An answering snort, the sound of a hand patting horse-flesh. ]}

You have not been to bored?

_{[ A pause, a snort, another pause. ]}

Oh? And how long as he been here?

_{[ You might feel two pairs of eyes looking your way now, Casse. ]}

Hello?

[She hates horses. If she had her way, she'd never be near them, and the only reason she's down at the stables at all is because she's looking for Joel and Ellie and god knows they love the fleabags. As such, Tess moves around the stables with trepidation, half by habit and half because horses are huge and she doesn't trust any stable door to contain them. Fuck horses. She'll be out of here the moment she ascertains that Joel and his kid aren't here.

Then she sees Cassel, who she mistakes for Cassandra, for a second –– they share a similar build, the same dark hair in the same sloppy haircut and what Tess sluggishly identifies as the same vaguely Eurasian features. Then, a second later, he clearly isn't Cassandra, given his more masculine features and the fact that he has a book. Cassandra can't read, Joel had told her. And hell, she'd only ever seen Cassandra in person once.

Tess hovers, for a second, biting back some pithy comment, and then she makes it anyway:]

Of all the places to relax, you pick a place that smells like horse shit?

Shhhhh. [ Veronica strokes the unicorn's face, tilting her head against it almost dreamily. ] Don't listen to him, Bugaboo. Men are pigs. - What's that? No, no, you're a stud. You don't have to drop a single dress size.

[ She regards Cassel again, picking up her head, mouth cocked into a half a smile as her hands keep rubbing delightedly into horse hair. ] Rodin sends his regards.

[Your teenage drama is irrelevant and unimportant, Cassel. It might be rude, but it's honest.]

And you mean to assert that the first few of your questions didn't incite the latter.

[Well, smartassery is a great way to make him like you right off the bat, Tess. If he knew she thought he and Cass looked similar, well, that'd be another feather in the Cassel-will-never-leave-you-alone-now cap. As it is, he looks up at her with a crooked grin and shrugs elaborately.]

What? You don't like the smell of horse shit? What does your perfume smell like?

[People talking to their animals isn't too weird to him. After all, he's done it enough times in his life - animals are usually better listeners than human beings are anyway. It kind of sounds like there's a legitimate conversation going on here, which is weird and might just be his imagination.]

[When they both turn to look at him, though, he thinks: maybe not. Stretching, he stands slowly and leaves the book where he sat.]

Am I bothering [a brief hesitation] her?

I like Bugaboo better.

[Officially this unicorn is now Bugaboo to him until someone comes up with a convincing argument to the contrary. Which they never will.]

Right. I bet he does. Are all your weird horse-related wet dreams coming true right now? Should I leave the two of you alone?

They're all related, but there's no order to them. Nothing incited anything else.

[He chews his lip for a second, then nods.]

Okay. Shoot.

[The writing continues.]

I'm a spirit of fear. Every culture on my world has a name for me; one of the more popular ones is "the Boogeyman".

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