driftfleet_ooc | Summer Test Drive Meme

[Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. Should've just kept her mouth shut. Talking about the truth behind her question isn't something she wants to get into right now- she doesn't trust herself to not get emotional about it, because fuck it had been hard, every day had been hard, and she's not sure that her heart can handle the likely callous response she'd get from Taako as a result.

It's not his fault, she wouldn't blame him for it, but it would still wreck her. It's too close, she was in the umbrella yesterday. She's not ready to tell him, plain and simple.

So after a moment she smiles faintly, setting the brush down and pulling her hair into a ponytail... then reconsidering and starting a braid instead. Best to keep it out of the way.]

"Red Robe Senior"... you're gonna shit yourself when you're able to hear who that one is. Anyway, I know about the Umbra Staff because I'm the one who made it.

[Having both of them wear braids, whole practical, was definitely going to get confusing fast for his shipmates, so as she braids her hair up, he starts fussing with his to make it look a little different. He loosens some hair out and pulls part of it into an updo, twirling it around and securing it with a few pins he had tucked in his pocket. ]

Yeah? Looking forward to that because I'm so tired of all this static shit ruining my day.

But if you're the one who made it, I guess thanks? It's saved my life a few times now.

[God, Taako, make up your mind, do you want her to look like you or not? She sees that fiddling but doesn't comment. Whatever he needs to feel comfortable's fine by her.]

It's good for that- used to be my focus, after all. Sucked up some interesting stuff, right?

[He just wants her to not look like a cat got into a fight on her head ok. He whips up a quick Disguise Self and creates blue highlights in his hair - just for good measure. Although she might notice the pattern of his highlights is almost exactly like hers.]

Hell yeah it did. Man was it fun feeding those dipshits' wands to it. Nice feature.

[She does notice that, actually, and it makes her smile but she has to hide it in case he doesn't. She likes it, one more way for them to match. She's pretty sure he doesn't know that he did it.

And yeah. Fun. Great feature, best idea she'd ever had.

Suddenly she's regretting this conversation, and she no longer has to hide the smile because it's gone.]

I could probably make something better, if we find the right materials. Egg timer's kind of beneath you.

What, you don't like my rainbow stickers?

[But he knows what she means - it's not the best focus; it's just what was handy when he needed one. And while he would love to have something like the Umbra Staff again, knowing that a red robe made it makes him cautious. Who knows what he's been carrying about with him this whole time? It nearly fried Ango and Kravitz, and he isn't so sure he knows why yet.

Instead, he picks up his little egg tiger and holds it defensively against his chest.]

I don't want to hear it from you - you took a wooden spoon.

[She knows it's a long shot, and that's okay. It's not as if she even has the ability or components to make anything now- until that situation changes, her hands are tied. It's an empty offer, and not one she'd expect him to accept any time soon.

It's fine. She'll keep on putting out feelers, testing the waters, gauging his response. Not pushing, not trying too hard. She knows Taako, knows him right to his core, but there's still ten years of his life that is nothing but a void to her; there are things that happened in that time that changed him, and losing his memories of her means he's used to being alone. Trust has never come as easily to Taako as it has to her. This is... a project. A long game. She's got practice with that, now.

She finishes her braid and tugs the tether of her hood free, wrapping it around the end as a makeshift bow. She'll find something better later on.]

Yeah? Well maybe I'll turn this wooden spoon into a proper magical artifact, too. The Spoon of Magic Missiles, or something. Next time you throw a cookie at me that bitch is gonna dance.

[The bow is cute, but he can make it better. He flicks his wrist and the bow takes on a glittery sheen - another olive branch perhaps, or simply because he thinks it looks better this way. He pulls his egg timer back and shoves it into his pocket, then starts cleaning the kitchen, sweeping dishes into the sink and putting unused ingredients away. ]

At least decorate it or get me a new spoon if you're keeping that one.

[Since, losing a wooden spoon is actually a bad thing for a kitchen and he has no idea where he'd get another one. It's not like he can ask Magnus to carve him another one. ...Even if it would probably end up looking like a duck.]

And next time? I'm not throwing a cookie at you unless I conjure it first. As cool as it looks, it's still a waste of a good cookie.

[She feels that tingle across her hair, glancing down, and- ah.

He used to do that when-

Her throat clenches, and she stubbornly swallows past it. He may not have the memories but something must linger, surely. Something that- that lets him know, even subconsciously, that this is normal. She has to believe that or she'll go mad.

This time the olive branch is accepted, and then some- she sets the wooden spoon on the table between them, giving it a light tap.]

If you'd like to give it some decor befitting of the great Taako, y'know, from TV, you're welcome to it. And yeah, I'll find you a new spoon.

[A wizard offering up their focus to someone they don't trust is normally a supremely stupid move, but she shows no fear or concern as she turns away and starts cleaning up her share of the kitchen mess.]

[Honestly? Sure. She's willing to trust him with her focus like that? He hesitates for a moment and stares at the object - once innocuous and now somehow loaded with so much meaning. She's turned away and is cleaning up her side of the kitchen and he watches for a moment before he decides what to do.

Taako reaches over and touches the spoon with one hand. It's an easy thing to transmute a piece of wood. Wood always wants to be something else. As a tree, it longs to be taller. As a plank, it longs to be a house. Wood is never content to be itself.

And this wood, while happy to be a spoon, is now infused as a spell focus so it wants to be something else, too. He pushes a little bit of power into it and the wood transforms, becoming deeper in color, threads of red springing up along the grain that deepen and lighten in alternating stripes. The tip turns to a burnished copper and - because it's still him - stars pop up all along the handle in different shades of the rainbow.

He's almost tempted to put in an arcane eye or something just so he can have an idea of just who this person is, but instead, he just infuses a little more power into it. Like an early warning system. If she ever points this thing at him, he'll know and he'll be ready to jump the fuck out of the closest window.

He pulls his hand back and goes back to cleaning up.]

You better find me a great goddamn spoon in exchange.

[Lup gives him some time to do his thing, running water for the dishes, though she can feel the arcane buzz behind her and Taako's unusually quiet so she knows something is up. When he speaks she turns off the water and glances around, staring for a long moment. She moves closer and lifts it up to examine it, turning it slowly between her hands.

It's perfect. It's fucking perfect. Fire and stars, like an echo of them, intertwined together as inextricably as their lives. And there's that twinge again, that smothering feeling in her chest, but this time she doesn't fight back against it. She exhales, she shudders, she closes her eyes.

And then she tucks the spoon into her belt like a sword, and returns to her chore. Her voice is thick with... something indecipherable when she replies, her heart all wrapped up with nostalgia and affection and a quiet sadness.]

For this? I'll find you one made of fuckin' polished gold.

[...Huh.

He hadn't expected that kind of reaction. He'd thought he'd a "Hey rad" or a "What the hell?" but not...that. She seemed shaken by the gesture and he wasn't really ready to deal with that. He knew she had to be important to him because he was obviously important to her. He knew she'd been around for most of his life because he knew details and they just seemed to click.

But knowing wasn't the same as experiencing and believing, and that left a rift between the two of them that he wasn't sure if he'd ever be ready to cross. It was too weird seeing someone have your face, your mannerisms, your little quirks all mirrored and just slightly different enough to be unique. He'd think she was a doppleganger out to eat his brains in the middle of the night, except for moments like this - where it seems like the little kindnesses he was occasionally capable of doling out are more painful to her than the obvious distrust he displayed.

He steps back and starts edging toward the exit, not sure if running is the right answer, but feeling like this heaviness is about to crush him. But when she speaks, he has to stop.]

Yeah? Well, it better be heat resistant because I'm not stirring a pot with a gold spoon.

[It takes her another handful of moments of watching the water run, of soaking her hands in it, of jostling it up to turn the soap to foam, but when she speaks again her voice is back to the way it was. She needs to figure out how to keep that under wraps, somehow. Some control or- shit, she doesn't know. He was always a better after than her.

Fantasy Rome wasn't built in a day. Just remember that.]

Hey, sometimes style is painful, right? Don't tell me you're afraid of a little heat.

[She dumps a pile of dishes into the water, beginning to scrub.]

I don't mind cleaning up, if you're, you know.

[Uncomfortable.]

Busy.

The heat? No.

The blisters? Yeah. I'm not huge on blisters.

[Although a gold spoon would be totally bitching, he is also not into wearing oven mitts just to stir a pot. He still hasn't found a cute set and like hell he's going to wear the set provided. No style there.

She's giving him an out and he's sorely tempted to take it. He's never been good with uncomfortable things and this is about as uncomfortable as it comes. He fidgets on the edge of the kitchen, eyeing the hallway and thus his room where he could go to escape. His eyes flick between her back and his refuge, until he finally decides.]

Yeah, no, I'm not leaving you alone in my kitchen. I'll supervise from here though, thanks.

[Free labor, free labor, yeah!]

If you're gonna stay get your ass over here and dry the dishes. Do your share, I'm not your mom.

[She loves you, you dingbat, but she's not here to serve you. She does take some small comfort in the fact that he's staying; she's got no illusions about it being for her, of course - there's a lot of things that could be done in a kitchen if she had some intent to harm him and his crew - but selfishly, she wants him here with her.

Eventually she'll have to leave. This isn't her ship, and she's not exactly welcome here yet. There's no trust on his end. But hey, for now, she can just earn her keep and take what she can get.]

Ugghh fine.

[He comes over, leaving enough space between them to be comfortable and safe. He has his new focus sitting comfortably in his pocket and she has her hands wet, so if she moves suddenly, at least??? He'll have time?? Or just get wet and dead at the same time. What an ignoble way to go. Death by suds.

He grabs two towels, one for over his shoulder and the other for actually drying and waits for the first set to come out.]

I don't think I could handle it if you, me, and my mom had the same face.

[She'd half-expected him to just refuse again, so she feels oddly pleased with herself when he complies; maybe her authoritative sass carries through subconsciously. She could usually bully him into doing things he didn't want to but had to, one way or another.

She leaves her hands carefully sunk into the water and away from him, mindful of the distance he keeps. When he reaches for a dish to dry her hands are below the surface, never setting one in the rack when he's near it. She hates the idea of him flinching away from her or something- better to not risk it.]

I don't remember what she looked like.

[They lost them too early and have lived far too long for her to hold on to those memories. What's to remember? Soft hands, stern faces, a couple of graves they never bothered to visit? Taako's her family, that's all she's ever needed.]

....What?

[What? Why would she remember what his mother looked like? Did she know his mother? How would she know her? His mother died when he was so young, he couldn't even really remember her all that well. He thought--

Ow fuck.

The static climbed in his ears again and he reached up, touching his forehead to stave off the headache. It's so loud right now as he tries to remember his early years that it's almost deafening. Alright, time to forget this and move on. He focuses instead on drying dishes.]

Oookay, sure, thanks for more static there, Lup.

[Seriously, voidfish-that-is-not-Fisher? She can't even talk about this shit in broad strokes without giving him a srrkkkzzsrrkkkzz migraine? That's bullshit. Lup scowls, giving the dish she's currently working on an extra-hard scrub out of frustration. Thankfully it's just a spreader so it doesn't break, because she doesn't need that to deal with, too.]

...Sorry. It's hard to know what's safe until I get it out there, y'know?

[Lucretia's always been super smart and very, very thorough. It's probably fair to assume that nothing's safe at this point.

This fucking sucks.]

[Taako lets out a heavy sigh, dropping his head back and staring up at the ceiling. He is so not cool with any of this static shit because it's annoying and also just really rude? He just wants to remember things and wherever he looks there's always some portion of static there. He never noticed it before, but then he never really spent a lot of time thinking back on his life. It was done, it was over; why dwell?

Setting a dry dish down, he rolls his head to the side to look at Lup.]

Here's a tip: anytime I think about the past, there's a part of it I can't see - a huge chunk of it is just gone - and it's annoying.

[It's me, she wants to say. That part that's missing is me.

But all he'll hear is static, or he'll hear it and try to think about it and get static, and there is literally no winning this. The only way to avoid the static is to be dead or a lich and that's not something she wants to either suggest or have happen to him.

She looks sidelong at him for a series of seconds, brows furrowed, frustrated and just- tired, in truth. Tired of missing him, of losing things. At least that's one thing they still have in common.

Barry would probably know what to do, but he's not here, either.

Fucking. Suuuuuucks.

She looks away again, back to her dishes.]

Okay, you know what? Fuck it. The past is the past, who wants to talk about that, anyway? While we're stuck here you're not working for the BoB, and I'm not doing the Red Robe stuff, we're just Lup and Taako, a couple of rad wizards. So, y'know.

[She lifts a sudsy hand to two-finger salute him.]

Nice to meet you.

Sounds good, rad wizard.

[He puts another dish down and returns the salute with his dish towel hand.

This will make it easier. He won't have to think about how Kravtiz said there was a lich or some dark energy inside his umbrella. He won't have to think about how it wrote her name or how she shares his face. He won't need to worry about what he does and doesn't remember and how their relationship is hanging like a thread right in front of him.

He can go back to pretending he's just a simple ol' wizard with some sick ass spells and sweet, sweet skills. That makes his life easier and he's more than happy to settle for easy right now. He stacks up the clean mixing bowls and utensils and spins the whisk around in his hand before sliding it back into the utensil holder.]

So........ truce?

You got it, truce.

[It's not what she wants, or what she needs. But it's what she's got for now.

And... it's more than what she had before. Tentatively, she smiles.

She's Lup. She's Lup and Lup is stronger than this, stronger than anything. She'll survive this, like she's survived everything that came before. The Hunger won't get her, the relics won't wreck her, the fucking stupid lich-eating umbrella she made didn't destroy her and this, this, this wall that lies between them, she'll chip away at it until it's thin enough to Kool-Aid her way through it.

Yeah, she's got this.]

[Good enough? It's about all he can hope for and then cross his fingers that she won't double-cross him later. He isn't getting that evil, stab-you-in-the-back vibe off her, and thanks to his little early warning signal, he should know if she ever casts at him. That's about as much insurance as he can hope for until the mental block lifts and he's able to make the connection between them.

He gets the feeling she's going to keep trying and, even if he can't remember the past, maybe they can? Become friends? Who knows. It's not like he has that many friends at all. Allies maybe? Cooking....buds?

Eh.

Taako shrugs and nods, then has Mage Hand open the cabinets so he can more easily put the bowls and dishes away.]

Btws, leave the macarons here. I'll feed them to my crew and see which ones they like better.

Sure thing, but it's gonna be mine.

[Said with the confidence of someone who's been baking them for over a hundred years and knows how good her cookies are, thank you. Not that Taako isn't exactly the same way about his. The argument of who's cooking is better is one that has existed since they first started to learn, and a bit of a memory gap sure as shit isn't going to change that now.

Dishes done, she drains the sink and dries her hands, before snagging one more macaron off the top of the pile to munch. She can make more on her own ship later, so he can keep the rest, but it's important to her that he sees her eating them. Maybe, once he sees that no one in his crew is keeling over afterwards, he'll be bold enough to try one himself.]

Summer Test Drive Meme

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)