[ It's not for a few days after the harrowing encounter with Eustace's noctaere form that Ori starts to go out and about again. Exhaustion aside, it takes time for her to be able to still herself to truly rest after all that they were made to see and hear and experience... Eustace and Tifa's pain, the nightmarish atmosphere of everything, that lingering feeling that she could have done better, done more to keep everyone from getting hurt the way they did...
And that includes Trahearne.
He is one of the first she seeks out once she's able (and once Diluc has deemed that she has, indeed, gotten enough rest), and as such she finds herself at the door to his treehouse, quietly knocking on the door with a basket full of healing potions hanging on her other arm. ]
[ In true sylvari fashion, the door to Trahearne's house is not locked. Nor is it really closed all the way (please excuse him, he has never lived in a house before). The gentle force from Ori's knocking causes it to swing open slightly, offering a tiny glimpse inside the darkened ground floor inside the tree.
It isn't Trahearne who greets her first, though. The door scoots open wider a touch, and Seisyll trots through the gap, weaving between her legs and offering a loud meow as a way of saying hello.
She doesn't wait for Ori to respond; she quickly darts back inside, pushing the door fully open as she does, revealing that Trahearne is on his way down the stairs at the far end of the room. He stops his descent when he sees her. ]
Hello, Ori. [ He smiles, and Seisyll launches herself up the stairs and into his arms. Despite the smile and the cat, he seems...exhausted. ] How are you?
[ Ori isn't prepared for a cat to greet her at all, as she doesn't know that Trahearne has begun to keep a pet! Seisyll's greeting startles a gasp out of her, but it soon gives way to a cooing aww as she looks down at the cat meowing at her. ]
Oh...! Hello, kitty!
[ She would like, very much, to pet this cat, but she darts away shortly, leaving Ori at the now-open doorway to look up and find the very tired-looking Trahearne inside. He certainly looks as tired as she still feels. Days of rest as enforced by Diluc have helped, but... ]
Ah. I'm... Hm, alright, all things considered. [ She holds up the basket on her arm. ] I wanted to check on you and give you some potions... [ And apologize about the telepathy. ] May I come in...?
[This has been grossly overdue. Beatrix has largely kept to herself for a multitude of reasons, but even that, she knows, isn't a good excuse. There are things that have to come before her and she has to be able to separate her own feelings from the situation.
Sometimes that means doing incredibly difficult things. It's not very like her to reach out to other people and maybe the days growing have just made her feel continuously less like herself. Not quite diminished, but a flame that once was very brightly stoked has died down considerably.
She withers.]
Trahearne,
I wanted to see how you have been faring. I am sure Oriphi has already come to see you, but considering the circumstances for us all, there is more strength in unity.
[ Early September still sees Trahearne recovering, hours listlessly lying in his hammock wishing for mundane dreams that will allow him a full nights' rest. Hours where he lies there, debating with himself whether he should call sleep a wash and crack open one of his many books. Flipping back through the journals and reading and analyzing every single word and curve of everyone's handwriting until he runs out of things to read. To think about.
So when he sees a new message, one specifically meant for him, he brightens a little. Even if the context and meaning behind the message isn't exactly the most joyous. ]
Beatrix,
I'm delighted to hear from you. Ori has come to see me, yes - she provided me with some potions, and we talked through a few things from the night of the incident. I'm still healing, in multiple senses, but I hope to be up and about in a few days' time.
How are you doing? The fight was not easy for any of us, but I hope your recovery has been smooth.
[To date, all things considered, Trahearne's response is probably Beatrix's favourite. There's no talk about her dream. There's no talk that has anything to do with her and that is... nice. Ironic, that. She still prefers it when she has as little attention as possible, evidently.
Her recovery? She can talk about that. Dismissively, as she is wont to do.]
She brought me some, as well. I was fairly certain she was delivering those to everyone involved. I am glad that she had you to speak with on it.
[Because, as per the usual, Beatrix was disinclined to discuss any of it with her. At least, not in the way Ori needed.]
I am doing fine. Thank you for inquiring.
Since it sounds as though you are still healing, if there is anything you have need of, I would not mind retrieving for you.
[ A sensation has been burrowing it’s way into her body since leaving Oriphi’s quaint home after the disaster. It feels like an absence of homesickness— perhaps it’d best be described as loneliness, in truth. It is an all-consuming fear of being the odd guy out. What a foolish notion that is, she knows. Still, the moment it strikes her, after a few days of tending to her battle wounds, she knows she has to get out there. So, Aerith gathers herself up, makes sure she looks presentable, and dashes out the door to find people. She knows who she wants to visit, and isn’t very picky about the order she does it in. She does, however, make a stop to pick apples before inviting herself over.
When Aerith finds Trahearne, she’s wearing her pink dress. The outfit from before is shot, dirtied with muck and blood. She’s made the fabric into ribbons for her hair now. On her face is a smile, bright and sweet as always, and on her elbow is the wicker loop of a picnic basket. With one fluid movement, she stands on the tips of her toes to hold it out for him to take, right in front of his face, with no warning. ]
Go on. Take it. It’s for you.
[ It’s more apples than he’ll need, but a gift, all the same. ]
[ It's the first day Trahearne has deemed himself healed enough to leave his house and busy himself. He has quite the collection of books at home, yes, but with the lack of sleep and dreams that seem to insist he stay awake, the number of new words runs out quickly. He needs something else to do. Something else to occupy his mind.
Trahearne is slowly walking his route between the archive building and his home; his eyes are cast absently on the ground, idle thoughts about document organization and other decidedly work-related things roaming through his mind, none sticking. They go in circles, the same phrases and ideas repeating themselves.
And so he's shocked when he finds a hand and a basket suddenly in his face, and it takes him a second slower than normal to react. With a yelp of surprise he jumps, eyes darting up from the ground to take in the dress and the basket and finally, the face. ]
For-- Why?
[ He's tired. Even though his complexion is anything but human, the cloud over his amber eyes is a likely indicator of such. Regardless, he reaches out to cradle the basket, surprised at the weight. Had she really carried this all this way to him...? ]
[ Miraculously, she's actually getting sleep. Maybe it's a small blessing, something little to make up for the brutality she'd been forced through, but it's something. Or perhaps it's the depression, sinking in it's fangs where it's least welcome. She shakes it off, though, makes sure she looks happy to see him, and just wiggles the basket again until he takes it. At this, she beams. ]
I wanted to see you!
[ Silly question, to her. She's only teasing. ]
You must be exhausted. [ She perceives that easily, and understands. Who wouldn't be. Hands together before her, she rests them over her abdomen before tilting her head with a curious little gaze to pair with that smile. ]
Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.
[ From carrying the basket to the smile, she tries not to let anything but her own whims take her. She wants to be in control, to feel like the world is moving forward, even if this is the state of things.
But she isn't really lying about the things she wants, either. It's a peek at the loneliness she's holding onto. ]
It's been almost a year since I became a part of this dream realm... So my own birthday must have passed recently. I was just curious about how others think of birthdays.
[ Ori is honestly the last person he's expecting to hear from, considering he's been answering questions from guests all day. It's still nice to hear from her, though! ]
Hello, Ori. Things are going surprisingly smoothly. It turns out there was a slight mix-up with the guest list, but everything's all right.
It's wonderful! We are all just relaxing. I just wanted to ask in case you all needed any assistance, I could always send an animal or teleport over though I think me showing up there would be against the rules of these sorts of parties...
[A present is left at his placed sans outward signature. Inside, a letter:
Trahearne,
I have been keeping a record of such things. I thought perhaps you would like one for you as well.
—Beatrix
Inside this package, heavier than it appears, is a fashioned collection of parchment. The pages are a collection of poems that Beatrix has written. All are dated and titled, since her arrival in Songerein, detailing every adventure that she and Trahearne have been on together. There is parchment in the back that is empty, implying that she anticipates they will have so many more together.
On the last written page, a dried and preserved red rose pressed between the pages. Perhaps to mark where her last one has gone.
Now that she knows he likes poetry. Now that he knows she likes poetry.]
[ For many a reason, one of which Beatrix could very well guess, Trahearne's thank-you message through the journals does not come until weeks after receipt.
Regardless, the gift does make him tear up when he sees it and leafs through it. ]
Beatrix,
I was deeply touched by your gift - it is very thoughtful, and I could not have asked for a nicer Wintersday present. Thank you.
I regret I was unable to get you anything in return. In exchange, I propose we meet to discuss your work and poetry in general.
She can completely understand why his has arrived when it has and she is not inclined to ask or draw attention to it. After all, they've so much in common that she imagines they're approach to feelings is quite the same.]
I did not expect anything in return. If you wish to critique my poetry, however, you may.
At your leisure.
backdated → end of dec, sometime between christmas and ny
[ It seems like the haze of the holidays is just about over. Once Christmas has passed, there is an odd limbo during which everything seems to come to a stop, waiting for the new year to come. It is during this time that Susato finds herself back at Trahearne's place of residence.
It feels like she has seen him less and less at the Harvest since the wedding, but she thinks nothing of it just yet. She simply takes a deep breath as she knocks on his door, perhaps more gently than she intended. ]
[ Trahearne is scarce nowadays. The revelation at the wedding, followed by his dear friend's departure has left him feeling emptier, weaker than ever.
The last thing he wants to do is affect the others.
Whether he's home or not is a mystery, because in true sylvari fashion, the door swings on its hinges in response to the force of her knock. And with the light flooding inside, a fern cat comes trotting to the door, eyes wide and tail curiously perked at the sight of the visitor. ]
[After they had gotten back from the jungles with Trahearne, it had been one thing after the other for Beat. But that didn't mean that he had forgotten about his friend. With his backpack in hand, Beat made his way over to the wikki (after asking Susato for directions prior).
Though it was his first time there and though his curiosity gnawed at the edges of his mind, he was there for another purpose. He eventually finds Trahearne, and immediately makes a beeline towards him, a large grin on his face.]
[ Trahearne is indeed at the archives, where he usually is. It feels weird, in a way, to be back. But it's a comforting normalcy.
He's still a bit tired though, so he's been hanging out in his private back office for most of the time. When Beat busts in, he scarcely flinches; he looks up from his book, and smiles. ]
Hello, Beat. [ Ah, the little ball of sunshine that is his "little brother." ] How can I help you?
[Sometime during the month Trahearne might find a little book left behind in his home by someone mysterious. Inside are pictures of flowers and mushrooms, all hand-drawn. And a collection of half-written poems and little notes of thanks.
Did a wind spirit sneak in? Who knows. But please do keep the gift.]
late august, post-nocstace
And that includes Trahearne.
He is one of the first she seeks out once she's able (and once Diluc has deemed that she has, indeed, gotten enough rest), and as such she finds herself at the door to his treehouse, quietly knocking on the door with a basket full of healing potions hanging on her other arm. ]
Trahearne...? It's Oriphi... Are you home?
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It isn't Trahearne who greets her first, though. The door scoots open wider a touch, and Seisyll trots through the gap, weaving between her legs and offering a loud meow as a way of saying hello.
She doesn't wait for Ori to respond; she quickly darts back inside, pushing the door fully open as she does, revealing that Trahearne is on his way down the stairs at the far end of the room. He stops his descent when he sees her. ]
Hello, Ori. [ He smiles, and Seisyll launches herself up the stairs and into his arms. Despite the smile and the cat, he seems...exhausted. ] How are you?
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Oh...! Hello, kitty!
[ She would like, very much, to pet this cat, but she darts away shortly, leaving Ori at the now-open doorway to look up and find the very tired-looking Trahearne inside. He certainly looks as tired as she still feels. Days of rest as enforced by Diluc have helped, but... ]
Ah. I'm... Hm, alright, all things considered. [ She holds up the basket on her arm. ] I wanted to check on you and give you some potions... [ And apologize about the telepathy. ] May I come in...?
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RETCON: THIS IS EARLY SEPTEMBER
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Text — Sender: Beatrix — Post-Noctace, Post-Dream - Early September
Sometimes that means doing incredibly difficult things. It's not very like her to reach out to other people and maybe the days growing have just made her feel continuously less like herself. Not quite diminished, but a flame that once was very brightly stoked has died down considerably.
She withers.]
Trahearne,
I wanted to see how you have been faring.
I am sure Oriphi has already come to see you, but considering the circumstances for us all, there is more strength in unity.
With Regards,
Beatrix
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So when he sees a new message, one specifically meant for him, he brightens a little. Even if the context and meaning behind the message isn't exactly the most joyous. ]
Beatrix,
I'm delighted to hear from you. Ori has come to see me, yes - she provided me with some potions, and we talked through a few things from the night of the incident. I'm still healing, in multiple senses, but I hope to be up and about in a few days' time.
How are you doing? The fight was not easy for any of us, but I hope your recovery has been smooth.
- Trahearne.
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Her recovery? She can talk about that. Dismissively, as she is wont to do.]
She brought me some, as well. I was fairly certain she was delivering those to everyone involved. I am glad that she had you to speak with on it.
[Because, as per the usual, Beatrix was disinclined to discuss any of it with her. At least, not in the way Ori needed.]
I am doing fine. Thank you for inquiring.
Since it sounds as though you are still healing, if there is anything you have need of, I would not mind retrieving for you.
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you know what this is
When Aerith finds Trahearne, she’s wearing her pink dress. The outfit from before is shot, dirtied with muck and blood. She’s made the fabric into ribbons for her hair now. On her face is a smile, bright and sweet as always, and on her elbow is the wicker loop of a picnic basket. With one fluid movement, she stands on the tips of her toes to hold it out for him to take, right in front of his face, with no warning. ]
Go on. Take it. It’s for you.
[ It’s more apples than he’ll need, but a gift, all the same. ]
sorry no new phone who dis?
Trahearne is slowly walking his route between the archive building and his home; his eyes are cast absently on the ground, idle thoughts about document organization and other decidedly work-related things roaming through his mind, none sticking. They go in circles, the same phrases and ideas repeating themselves.
And so he's shocked when he finds a hand and a basket suddenly in his face, and it takes him a second slower than normal to react. With a yelp of surprise he jumps, eyes darting up from the ground to take in the dress and the basket and finally, the face. ]
For-- Why?
[ He's tired. Even though his complexion is anything but human, the cloud over his amber eyes is a likely indicator of such. Regardless, he reaches out to cradle the basket, surprised at the weight. Had she really carried this all this way to him...? ]
ðŸ˜
I wanted to see you!
[ Silly question, to her. She's only teasing. ]
You must be exhausted. [ She perceives that easily, and understands. Who wouldn't be. Hands together before her, she rests them over her abdomen before tilting her head with a curious little gaze to pair with that smile. ]
Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.
[ From carrying the basket to the smile, she tries not to let anything but her own whims take her. She wants to be in control, to feel like the world is moving forward, even if this is the state of things.
But she isn't really lying about the things she wants, either. It's a peek at the loneliness she's holding onto. ]
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sender: Oriphi
Do sylvari have birthdays? Do you celebrate them?
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What brings this about?
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It's been almost a year since I became a part of this dream realm... So my own birthday must have passed recently. I was just curious about how others think of birthdays.
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11/26; sender: Oriphi
Trahearne,
How is the party going on your end? I hope you are all enjoying yourselves!
- O
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Hello, Ori. Things are going surprisingly smoothly. It turns out there was a slight mix-up with the guest list, but everything's all right.
How is the bachelorette party?
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It's wonderful! We are all just relaxing. I just wanted to ask in case you all needed any assistance, I could always send an animal or teleport over though I think me showing up there would be against the rules of these sorts of parties...
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Delivery → End of December
Inside this package, heavier than it appears, is a fashioned collection of parchment. The pages are a collection of poems that Beatrix has written. All are dated and titled, since her arrival in Songerein, detailing every adventure that she and Trahearne have been on together. There is parchment in the back that is empty, implying that she anticipates they will have so many more together.
On the last written page, a dried and preserved red rose pressed between the pages. Perhaps to mark where her last one has gone.
Now that she knows he likes poetry. Now that he knows she likes poetry.]
Reply: Mid January
Regardless, the gift does make him tear up when he sees it and leafs through it. ]
Beatrix,
I was deeply touched by your gift - it is very thoughtful, and I could not have asked for a nicer Wintersday present. Thank you.
I regret I was unable to get you anything in return. In exchange, I propose we meet to discuss your work and poetry in general.
- Trahearne.
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She can completely understand why his has arrived when it has and she is not inclined to ask or draw attention to it. After all, they've so much in common that she imagines they're approach to feelings is quite the same.]
I did not expect anything in return. If you wish to critique my poetry, however, you may.
At your leisure.
backdated → end of dec, sometime between christmas and ny
It feels like she has seen him less and less at the Harvest since the wedding, but she thinks nothing of it just yet. She simply takes a deep breath as she knocks on his door, perhaps more gently than she intended. ]
Trahearne? It's me.
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The last thing he wants to do is affect the others.
Whether he's home or not is a mystery, because in true sylvari fashion, the door swings on its hinges in response to the force of her knock. And with the light flooding inside, a fern cat comes trotting to the door, eyes wide and tail curiously perked at the sight of the visitor. ]
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1/2
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backdated to mid-march
Though it was his first time there and though his curiosity gnawed at the edges of his mind, he was there for another purpose. He eventually finds Trahearne, and immediately makes a beeline towards him, a large grin on his face.]
Yo, Nightlight! Been lookin' for you.
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He's still a bit tired though, so he's been hanging out in his private back office for most of the time. When Beat busts in, he scarcely flinches; he looks up from his book, and smiles. ]
Hello, Beat. [ Ah, the little ball of sunshine that is his "little brother." ] How can I help you?
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Done!
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delivery;
Did a wind spirit sneak in? Who knows. But please do keep the gift.]
Text
I am assuming I am talking to Trahearne, correct?
[What have you done, Zhongli?]
UH OH
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