silent, in the trees [open]

[necrocabbage]

Characters: Trahearne, open to everyone
Date: Early February
Location: In and around the Dreaming Bridge
Situation: There's a quiet plant guy lurking around. That might be a little weird.
Warnings/Rating: Nothing yet


A. During the day - outside the Dreaming Bridge
When he's not busy with other matters, Trahearne has been spending some time right outside the Dreaming Bridge building. He mostly walks around the outside of the Quayside wing, though sometimes he makes a circle around the Breakwater wing as well, to cover all his bases.

What exactly he's doing out there might not be immediately obvious. When he's not just walking around, examining the dirt and peering under bushes like he's looking for something, he's been leaving little pieces of jerky in specific, tucked-away places. Trahearne later returns to check to see if the jerky is gone, but even when it's disappeared, he seems to keep walking away with nothing to show for the endeavor.

Whatever kind of animal Trahearne is trying to lure out hasn't yet revealed itself, but he's certainly patient enough to continue trying.



B. At night - in the Dreaming Bridge lounge/lobby
Trahearne hasn't been sleeping well. Tossing and turning is one thing, but after the first night when he kept waking from terrible nightmares, he decided that persisting in a useless endeavor would only end in disturbing his roommates. The idea of having to explain what he was seeing in his dreams to two complete strangers wasn't just unappealing, he knew that it wouldn't help matters any. He'd still have trouble sleeping, and he'd still wake them with it, whether they knew what was happening or not.

Instead, he's taken to slipping out of his room after the others are asleep, taking with him a small pile of books on the Planes that he's obtained from one of the local libraries. Trahearne then curls up in one of the more comfortable chairs in the public lounge, reading by the light of a lamp, up until he dozes off or simply can't see straight anymore. Whether he's found awake or asleep, he's always gone before sunrise, either to get breakfast or to return to his room to prepare for another day.

Comments

[necrocabbage]

Hearing that sentiment makes Trahearne momentarily fall quiet, his gaze shifting away from the Fool to one of the windows. He could have argued, and spoke of how he'd alienated most other sylvari through his work, but that wouldn't change how close to the heart of the matter the Fool had managed to strike.

"I'm supposed to be dead. Such a thing would have been denied to me either way. I do feel like... like I've been cheated out of my deserved rest. If there was an afterlife for me, I expected one where I'd be able to greet the friends that came before me. Yet I found myself here instead, and I still don't know if this was some cosmic accident, or if there is something more I'm meant to do."

[afoolsgold]

"...I still don't know if this was some cosmic accident, or if there is something more I'm meant to do."

"Your words make me wish I could offer you some reassurance on the matter," the Fool says, his smile twisting wryly. "Where I am from, there was a time when I might have been able to glean your destiny--" or his fate, "--through my dreams. But.." His words taper off, and he looks away. "I'm like you in many ways, it seems. I, too, am supposed to be dead."

For a few moments he is quiet. Then, with a short, bitter little laugh, he asks, "What good is a prophet who can no longer prophesy?" It's a rhetorical, self-critical question. Doubtless, he doesn't expect an answer to it.

[necrocabbage]

He looks back to the Fool with some surprise, before dipping his head in a slow nod. "I know all too well how you feel. Little of my own experience matters for anything on a world like this." Even before Trahearne had died, he had finished his Wyld Hunt to cleanse Orr - something he'd spent most of his life working towards. He had then thrown himself into leading the Pact forces a short time before he died, with no opportunity to reinvent himself. Here, Trahearne was both a scholar of a dead land on another world, and a marshal without an army.

"It seems that we'll both need to find new ways to thrive here. It feels daunting, doesn't it? I'm sure that Mother would say to not give up hope."

Trahearne has certainly been trying not to, but he still wished he could have heard the words from her instead of trying to imagine what advice she might give.

[afoolsgold]

"I'm sure that Mother would say not to give up hope."

"Sage advice," the Fool replies, smiling softly. "I shall try to be less Foolish, for a time, and heed it."

He carefully unfolds his legs from beneath himself and gets to his feet, securing his robe around himself. "I think I may make another attempt at sleep," he decides, "but thank you for taking the time to speak with me, tonight. It is," a slight pause, "easy, to feel alone here."

[necrocabbage]

Trahearne chuckled softly at the joke. "You don't seem foolish to me at all, so I'll have to take your word for it."

He nodded to the Fool, but made no move to get up himself. Trahearne still had his stack of books, and dawn was too far off for him to go slipping back into his room yet. "Yes, it is easy," he agreed. "But I'm sure all of the Dreamfolk go through that. I hope the remainder of your night will be restful."

[afoolsgold]

In response, the Fool smiles. "I hope to see you again soon," he says, and takes his leave from the lounge as quietly as he arrived.