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Inbox: Abraxas
INBOX
text / action / horizon
Roses are red, violets are blue, and right now it seems I'm missing you.
code credit
INBOX
text / action / horizon
Roses are red, violets are blue, and right now it seems I'm missing you.
code credit
INBOX
text / action / horizon
Roses are red, violets are blue, and right now it seems I'm missing you.
code credit
check in during the supply run
What are the chances you've seen a monster with a mouth the size of a ravine before?
[ There's a brief pause when Claude thinks about how that sounds out of nowhere, so maybe an attempt at reassurance - ]
It didn't eat us, for the record.
[ Close enough. ]
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...Do I want to know why you're asking?
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1/3
2/3
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Continuation - NSFW
[ Jesper smirks knowingly back when Sylvain's voice goes husky, the promise of what they both suspected was coming in his eyes. He has never had a problem with distracting himself with sex, it's his favorite distraction, especially as it's not as harmful as gambling or violence. He's wanted the man since the moment he saw him and did plan on maybe leading up to this someday. More flirting or bonding, a lot of innuendo, they moved that way during the playful banter at the hot springs, and he doesn't mind building toward something fun. But he really has no patience at the moment. They understand one another very well.
It's telling that he doesn't even bother to talk back or joke, Jesper simply leans into the kiss with a hungry moan. The crashing of their lips together, the burning shoot of lust through him, gives him exactly what he needs. He opens his mouth immediately and draws Sylvain into a deeper kiss, his hands unable to stop moving. Through Sylvain's red hair, over his shoulders, down his chest, under his shirt to run hot fingers over his bare skin. ]
Saints. [ His head drops back against the door heavily when he needs to breathe. ] Take off your clothes or I'm going to tear them off you.
[ This is no joke, Jesper is worked up and he has the ability to melt Sylvain's clothes off his body like it's nothing. ]
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His smirk only deepens at that demand, nipping at Jesper's lower lip before pulling back just enough to start unbuttoning the plain white shirt he wears, shrugging out of that and the deep blue jacket he often wears here these days. ]
If I had more where this one came from, I might take you up on that dare, just because it sounds exceedingly hot. But it's also a very one-sided demand here and I think you're wearing too much, as well.
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— somewhere between sylvain's desert safari and the dec event
Sylvain!
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Hilda? What's wrong?
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— february 14 | a little valentine's day gift
[ If he flips the note over, he'll find another message. It's not clear if she expected him to find it, but either way, it looks like it's written a little more hastily than the note on the front. ]
— throughout the week of feb 19
𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 — 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳.
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𝘞𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩. 𝘞𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭.
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𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺? 𝘐𝘧 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵.
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𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘞𝘩𝘰'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘨𝘴?
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𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘗𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐.
[ Worried? Not Hilda. Worrying caused wrinkles. ]
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Continuation, NSFW maybe? eventually?? tagging just in case >.>
[ The little coastal city is dark, an almost-full moon still fairly low in the sky, but bright enough to cast an easy illumination over everything as Sylvain leads Claude away from the restaurant. And away from the town itself, guiding him down the boardwalk that stretches out along the edge of the beach until he comes to one of the stone jetties that jut out over the water. The sound of the tide against the rocks is a soothing pattern as he carefully guides the both of them out to the end of the jetty, until all that stretches out before them is the sea and the moonlight on the water. ]
Here.
[ He offers his hand again with a slightly sheepish grin as he helps Claude sit down on the smooth rocks piled here, knowing his outfit and boots weren't exactly made for something like this. But the whim had struck, and he'd wanted to show Claude the place he'd found earlier because it had been peaceful and quiet. He wondered if it would remind Claude of home, and whether that was a good thing or not. But either way, they didn't have to stay long, if it wasn't something Claude ended up liking.
But in the meantime, it made for a pretty view and they still had half a bottle of wine to share. He sinks down on the rocks beside him, stretching his legs out in front of him as his shoulder bumps lightly against Claude's. ]
Sorry. I know it's a little random, but...
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Sure, he'd rolled his eyes over being told he hadn't been paying attention on their way out of the restaurant - the eye roll also being valid on multiple levels in his mind - but. File this under another part of Sylvain he hadn't accounted for, perhaps seeing signs for it in the past which start to click into place as he's now led towards the jetty. It only takes Claude a second to piece everything together before he looks back to Sylvain in confirmation and in time to take the hand offered to him to get settled. ]
Maybe more than a little.
[ If it wasn't already clear he's teasing, the grin prominently on his face while he takes a seat on a particular rock to look out at what stretch of sea can be seen in the moonlight lightening the way before them might do it. A sight he's missed, he suddenly realizes, and not part of what he'd recreated in the Horizon while choosing to focus on other parts of home. ]
It works, though, considering this is as close as we can get to Derdriu any time soon and Cadens isn't exactly known for this view.
[ Speaking of that, kind of: he leans his head back to look up at the sky next and doesn't even notice the smile on his own face this time while surveying the stars above. ]
Not terrible at all.
[ That's approval. ]
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— june 5 | birthday things
When Sylvain leaves his room on the morning of the 5th, he'll be assaulted with an obnoxious bouquet of shimmering, iridescent balloons that shimmer and shine. Any attempt to move them will result in sigils to activate, prompting dark green, blue and gold confetti to blow around inside the balloons and words to spin across the surface of the balloons spelling out, 'Happy birthday, Sylvain!' Eventually, several days later they'll pop like bubbles, leaving no trace of them behind.
Weighing the balloons down is a gigantic wrapped box. The heavy box is wrapped in black, matte paper, tied together with a Faerghus blue ribbon. Instead of a bow however, it's held down by a gold wax seal that reads, 'S.J.G.'
Opening the box will reveal several things: a black envelope with his name written in gold ink, a dark green journal that is clearly intended for recording his tea blends or recipes if the embossed teacup and wooden spoon on its cover are any indication. He might get the impression it's built specifically for observations; it's filled with places to doodle flowers or plants, spaces to list ingredients and graph paper to record temperature and boiling points. Below it sits a thick, black denim apron, decked out with big pockets, adjustable leather straps, a towel loop, and his initials meticulously embroidered in a small corner of one of the top pockets. He can probably guess that she did it herself. There's also a gift certificate tucked into the top of the pocket for a private lesson with one of the top chefs at a critically acclaimed cooking academy in Aquila.
And finally, underneath the apron, is another box. It's a dead giveaway what it is based on the checkboard pattern. The chessboard itself is made of a sturdy, dark walnut, polished, burled, smooth and melded with brass and sliver pieces. Lifting the board will reveal the chess pieces, weighty and made of antique gold and silver. The bottom of the pieces have soft velvet attached to them to avoid scratching the surface of the board. If he's observant enough, he'll notice there are faint runes etched into the base of the pieces. The next time he plays with them, he might be in for a surprise; each one seems to have been slightly enchanted to animate according to their role once they've been moved into place on the board. She may or may not have been working on this for a month or so.
The envelope, if he opens it, will contain a letter that reads, ]
— june 5th, birthday time
Aside from a couple pouches of black tea since searching still hasn't turned up bergamot, first is a fountain pen to replace worrying about having enough quills to write with around. Or better yet, from having to make sure any quill doesn't get damaged while tucked into the bound journal in the package beneath it. It's not a cookbook (this time) as the pages of the journal are blank and unlined, meant for being filled in with words, drawings, or anything its owner might like to place between them.
Something that will certainly help with that is next in the largest box of all. Inside it is a knife sharpener, though granted that it also looks somewhat like a large box with slots that doesn't immediately make it clear what it's used for, there's a couple small notes attached. One reads Knives go here ⬎ next to the slots, and another reads Press this to make it work ⟶ where it's pointing to a switch. If flipped, the sharpener will come to life thanks to the motor inside with the sharpening plates moving enough like weapons maintenance to make it clear this is one less step Sylvain has to deal with before doing something far more enjoyable for him: cooking or preparing ingredients or supplies for his tea ventures.
Also importantly, there's a letter folded inside an envelope, written in mostly neat script:
It's a sentiment not accurately captured in writing, circular as it is in those sentences. But some things are better said in person, aren't they? It'll do until the right time comes and hopefully confirms each gift being chosen deliberately. The other gift is that it was rather early when these were left so no early wakeup time went along with it. All the better for going out to lunch later to further celebrate. ]
— go easy on me darling, don't aim for my head; sometime in mid-july
Unfortunately, she had neglected to take into account that after moving into the loft all of her clothes had moved with her, meaning that she didn't have any clothes left at the inn, and definitely didn't have any clothes at the Old Public Hall. In the time that it had taken her to unpack all of her clothes, she had come to the conclusion that it was best to put space between herself and the boys. Her abrupt departure had meant that she had quickly stuffed only about a week's worth of clothing into her suitcase. And while some people might have been able to live out of a suitcase and repeat the same outfits in a week, Hilda had quickly discovered she wasn't one of them.
She could have come and gone as she pleased, but her avoidance stemmed from the fact that she wanted to see little of Claude and give Sylvain as much room was possible even after she had apologized for the spa. Which explains why she had ensured that coast was clear before tiptoeing into the loft that day.
The plan had been to get in and out as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, a book she had been looking for wasn't in the same place she had thought she had left it. A quick scan through the bookshelves in the living room proves fruitless. She clatters through the loft back towards her room ready to give up, but not before noticing that the door to Sylvain's room has been left ajar. It's unlikely it's in there - she can't imagine him being remotely interested in gem stone setting - and she moves towards the door to close it all the way when she spots something in the corner of his room.
The loft remains silent. Her curiosity wins out. Seconds later she's striding through the door and right up to what she had seen. But she doesn't need to get that close to see that her suspicions had been right the first time. With the fox mask in her hands, heat rushing to her cheeks as the night in the maze comes rushing back to her. But the recollection of her night of pleasure is short lived as dread and realization comes crashing in at once.
If this mask was in Sylvain's room then that means -
Oh, Goddess, no. ]
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And then comes to a stop in the doorway to see her standing there, clutching the fox mask he'd worn the night of the masquerade. The night he'd chased her through the garden maze, even if he's still pretty sure she hadn't guessed it was him. He thinks. There were a couple times he was certain she had, but since she hadn't said anything since then...
Well, shit. ]
Hilda?
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— under pressure precious things can break | beginning of october
New normal being acknowledging the fact that she and Claude both had feelings for one another (something that she still didn't know how to react to), that Claude had something with Sylvain (which is met with a mixture of both jealousy and happiness), and that she was trying to keep clearer boundaries with Sylvain so the same thing that had played out with Claude didn't happen with the red head.
And part of that, she knows needs to start with telling Sylvain plainly that she and Claude were okay now and were (sort of) figuring things out. Whatever that meant. She finds him that day tending to the herb garden. It's a warm autumn day than they had been expecting and she takes full advantage of it, donning a lighter linen dress with longer sleeves to hide her arms from view. A sunhat is in her hands - one of hers if the pink ribbon tied around it is any indication that is promptly placed atop his head.
From behind him he'll hear a click of her tongue. ]
You're out here again without a sun hat? Just because the season is changing doesn't stop sunburns for someone who has delicate skin like you.
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[ He doesn’t look up from his task as he works on weeding around one of his herbs, pruning away the dead leaves. But there’s amusement audible in his voice all the same.
It’s nice, he thinks, having her back in the Loft so often. He’d missed this. ]
Besides, I’ve decided hats are my archnemesis. They have it out for me. Hiding my pretty face away from the world. And the last time I wore one, crazy mushroom people tried to feed me to their weird tentacle-y tree altar, so I think we’re better off avoiding one another, me and hats.
[ It’s all said with mock seriousness, as if this was a perfectly reasonable line of logic on his part, even if he’s biting back laughter as his statement just gets more and more ridiculous. ]
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Love you, thank you for being in my life.
-Jesper
— december gift delivery
The second half of the present can be found underneath a layer of tissue. What awaits him is a pair of handstitched riding boots. They're a dark wine full grain leather, with punched details and comes with a boot care kit. Naturally it comes with a note on handwritten paper with small wildflowers embedded and pressed into it. It smells faintly of Hilda's perfume. ]
— throughout january
Breaching the subject is another matter however. It's in Hilda's nature to skirt around the not so cheerful topics in life. In part, it's for her own protection – ignorance was bliss for her. The other part of her however, the one with the more serious answer, is that if she did bring it up, she didn't know how she'd possibly help them soothe the wounds the cultists had left behind. The easy answer is simply never bringing it up in the hopes that someone else would. But that didn't feel right either. Because if she didn't bother, if she didn't try, then what was the point in staying by either Claude or Sylvain's side? That being said, she still had to find a way to build her bravery.
December comes and goes. January arrives in a flurry of activity that brings more gloom in the aftermath of their efforts on the island. It keeps all three of them busy and there's some nights where she doesn't see either of them. She knows this can't be easy for either of them - or rather hasn't been if any of her observations are anything to go off of. But then she formulates a plan. Granted it's not necessarily an original plan (Sylvain was the one that started it first) nor does it have any other goal than trying to keep his spirits up – but she has to start somewhere.
Notes follow him wherever he goes. Or rather, that's the impression he might get. Folded up birds, little paper lanterns, hearts, stars, flowers, a mouse, a cat, a fox can be found every day in obvious places like his pillow when he returns in the evening, his coat pockets, the kitchen, amongst the plants he's using to grow his tea ingredients, tucked into the saddle of whatever horse he chooses to ride the day he visits the stables, his bag. There's nothing special about them at first, no words to accompany them. Sometimes there's the occasional silly doodle of whatever the papercraft is giving him words of encouragement or silly, flirty phrases. But eventually the corresponds begin.
Today's note comes in the shape of a paper airplane that she probably learned how to make thanks to the Doctor. It floats gracefully through the air to wherever he is, smacking gently into the side of his face to get his attention. Read me! is written in neat script on it. Somewhere behind him there's the briefest flutter of a giggle and the sound of receding footsteps but when he turns around no one is there. If he opens the note he'll read: ] [ Below her signature is a drawing of two foxes at a table happily dining on some food. ]
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Wrapped around the rose’s stem is a narrow strip of paper, since he doesn’t quite have her talent for paper art. But he had played around with some words and leaves them for her in a carefully penned hand.
The surest escape from the pit of despair
Is to cradle a person and tell them you care
So drop your defenses
And heighten your senses
So the next breath you take will be one that you share.
A few days later, it’s a small confectioner’s box of cupcakes with pink icing. There’s a little doodle of a fox with a rose in his mouth and a bow wrapped around one ear on the lid of the box, with the simple message of:
Sweets for my sweet.
And just before the weekend, when she arrives home, it’s to find the tub filled with steaming water and softly scented suds, the room lit aglow with soft candlelight and a thick, plush towel and robe waiting for her. This time, there’s a little plush fox seated on a stool with a note cupped in it’s paws and a bottle of wine and a single glass waiting beside it, with only the words:
You deserve a little pampering. Sorry there’s no mud. ]
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— very backdated december gift delivery
A long flat box roughly the side of a desk mat will reveal a familiar sort of box for holding teas with designs carved into the top and sides. When Sylvain lifts the lid, it won't be tea he finds inside. Rather, it's bundles of seeds in each individual space, all carefully labeled with their names on the front of each tag with their names: flowers meant to be dried for teas, leafy herbs that can be used fresh or saved for later for cooking, and a handful of others good for all around purposes. The back of each tag has a short description of their uses around the Free Cities and Abraxas on each, too.
The larger package next to it contains a scale with wood to match the box, carved marble elements, and gold metal accents. A drawer on the side contains a variety of weights, including enchanted ones to assist with and make it much easier to weigh very light ingredients that might not otherwise register on the scale.
Finally, the small basket beside it all contains bottles of weapon oils, hand oils meant to ward off some of the desert dryness, and maybe a bottle of massage oil or two for whoever and whenever Sylvain might like to use them. Wrapped up also are two pairs of gloves, one that's thicker leather best for whatever might be lurking out in the desert and the other a finer leather lined with werewolf fur he'd picked up in Nocwich, and ones meant to stave off the cold. Or what their new owner might consider cold - same difference. Atop it all is an envelope with Sylvain's name on it, and inside is a letter: In addition to that, when Sylvain heads out to the greenhouse he'll find his tools all neatly arranged just where he likes them, the watering cans filled and ready to go, and a vase with a vibrantly blooming desert flower waiting upon his usual workbench. Just because. ]
— on the morning of june 5th
Inside a small carved wooden box is a lion carved from one solid piece of marble-like stone where when turned to catch the light glints gold, a possible nod to what Sylvain had once called his godly form and the Lions from where he'd once called home. Behind it is a cup with a sheet of decorative parchment curled inside with a ribbon tied around it and another envelope propped in front of it. The parchment's rolled around tickets to a play dated in the near future where it might be noted the seats are in a decidedly fancy row of seating. Beneath the tickets is a certificate of sorts for a nearby spa with the amount being listed as for a massage plus any extras Sylvain might like to add. And as for the cup itself? Also enchanted but this time to keep whatever drink inside completely cold without needing constant refills of ice - perfect for that upcoming summer weather.
The envelope, of course, contains a letter: Of course while he might have woken up semi-alone, Sylvain certainly won't stay that way for long. As soon as there's signs of life from the room, he'll be joined by Claude with a tray of pastries to go with that tea. Never mind him claiming that he made all of it himself. He totally did. ]
—a little belated june 5th gift
As for the banner? Well that just says 'Happy Birthday, Sylvain!' with a number of the loft's critters holding the balloons that each letter is encased in.
One of the leoslyphs will eventually fly over with a card in its mouth. Inside the impeccably handmade card (it's a lion's head that when opened, lets out a little 'roar!') is a small booklet of what looks like handmade coupons, and a note. ]
[ The coupon book is as it sounds and is actually quite thick alluding to the fact that it might be difficult to use them all up at once. Instead of deals on items however, it's an assortment of acts and services like: 'Good for 10 kisses in a row from a Deer of your choice', 'Redeem for a meal made by Hilda', 'A private cooking class for 2' (and in script beneath this one: 'Maybe this would be something good to take Claude to?'), 'Get out of chores you don't want to do for one whole week - no complaints from Hilda allowed!', 'Ask Hilda to return your library books - also with no complaining', 'Receive five back massages and get a special surprise for your sixth one!* (*The surprise has been pre-determined and the Birthday Boy does not get a say in what it is)'.
Whenever he does make his way out of the hallway, he'll find Hilda busy putting the finishing touches on dishes of his favourite things in the kitchen. ]
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Save your kisses for me.
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......
Please tell me you're joking.
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During portal stuff
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Jesper? I'm in Cadens, yeah. Are you? Are you alright?
Claude and Hilda... aren't.
[ And he's freaking the fuck out. ]
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