[He doesn't usually care about the news, but the newest edition of the Deerington Post has him concerned. Specifically, the apparent weather in October, and the lack of daylight for a solid month.
Naturally, he's going to the only person he knows of in town who seems to have any kind of knowledge about flora.]
hey i have a question for you about how plants survive without sunlight
[ A carefully crafted, purposefully formatted, and frustratingly thoughtful message arrives some time in the wee hours of the morning. ]
Logan,
It's taken me days and days to get up the gumption to say so, but here goes: I am SO angry. I expected better of you. Please let me know when you will be in the office again so we can talk.
[ Admittedly, she's typed this and then deleted it a number of times by now. But, finally, just decides to hit the send button, thinking back to various conversations with Kurt. ]
I'm pretty sure it's been more than a few weeks since we last spoke. It's sort of funny how time flies even here in a dream. Things have been getting pretty hectic since then. Just hoping you're doing ok.
Gee can I get your blessing, O Holy Canuck, to put my heathen feet on your cabin soil, so I can take Molly to Grady's wedding?
[ He can't believe he's actually doing this. He's asking permission, but he doesn't want to ruin a wedding or Molly's time there. Even that's too sleazy for Buck. ]
[ Inside Logan's mailbox, there is a nondescript white envelope with his name on it. Inside, there is a colorful pog, with a message written on the back in silver fine-tipped sharpie. There's no stamp on the envelope, implying that it was hand delivered rather than mailed. ]
it's been real. it's been weird. it's been real weird.
see you on the flip side! – GP
[ The pog is enchanted with dream magic, so that it can be given as a gift, but cannot be lost, stolen, or destroyed. ]
The home of Kurt's new and unexpected friends is a long way from the lake. Or at least it feels like a long way, too hot and too full of bright jagged sunlight. Kurt takes it slowly for the sake of his pounding headache and uneasy stomach as well as the numerous aches and pains from their encounter with the aliens, trying to maintain what little dignity he has left as he hitches Frank's sweatpants up around his hips and tries to tug Wynonna's t-shirt down so it covers more of his stomach. Thankfully the townsfolk don't seem to want to give the strangely dressed mutant more than a glance, preoccupied by whatever it is that keeps them looking the other way from the weirdness in their town.
He breathes a small sigh of relief as he enters the welcome shade of the pines, already feeling more at home once he's within them with the cabin not far away. If he had been more awake and less hungover, he might have considered how odd it was to feel so comfortable in such a strange and difficult place, but as it is it's enough effort just to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Memories of the previous night crowd against him, trying to force their way into his mind. Memories of dancing, of glittering costumes and cold concrete under his cheek. He shrugs them off, forcing himself to concentrate on just getting back to the cabin. Just thinking about the party, how he might have acted, makes shame rise hot and sour in his throat. What had he said to Logan? How had he gotten into that state? What else had he done, what else could he have possibly --
He has to stagger aside from the path at that thought, clutching at a tree as he empties his stomach into the bushes, the rough bark digging into his palms. For a long moment he remains there, miserable and head hanging, then he forces himself to straighten up, spits acid bile onto the dirt, and continues on.
Logan isn't outside when he reaches the cabin, though Kurt's not about to fool himself into thinking that his arrival will go unnoticed. He limps slowly up to the door and eases it open, blinking a little as his eyes adjust from the midday sunlight to the cool dimness of the small room.
[In an attempt to enthusiastically celebrate his first ever Christmas, Fern is covertly dropping off a wrapped gift addressed to Logan from him on his doorstep.
It's a crossbow!
Because he can't exactly get Logan a bladed weapon, can he? A crossbow is clearly the next best thing.]
Jean-Paul, sprawled elegantly outside on the grass, hops to his feet and looks at Logan adoringly. Well, okay, it's mostly the coffee he's staring at, but he kisses Logan's cheek before taking it.
[Left outside the house is a dark blue basket. Inside is an associate of tea, chocolates, a box of lemon drops, a bottle of wine and a copy of Charles Dickens, Christmas Carol. A blue Tardis-shaped card attached to the basket says, 'Santa' in silver marker.]
He can't actually remember the last time he was in an iHOP, but the smell of a breakfast grill that hits him when he comes in through the kitchen is almost suffocating.
Ignoring a few stray glances from the staff he disappears into the mensroom to see if he's beaten Blake to the stalls.
He has not, in fact, beaten Blake who is actually at the sinks either inspecting himself or pretending to. He's actually wearing a ball cap — plain and blue as is his aesthetic — and the rest of his clothes are casual enough that he looks like he's taken to relaxing for the day.
Staring at Logan through the mirror, he cocks an eyebrow at him while smirking, hands resting flat atop the counter. The bathroom isn't exactly sparkling but it's well-lit and there's absolutely no lock on the door that can be clicked into place without a key. It's going to be risky because the chance of someone coming in is probably pretty high.
There aren't a lot of typical homes in Deerington Logan's been in, even if he did remember them all, but this neighbourhood is at least little more familiar than others. His eyes studied the houses as they came, feeling certain that the picture of someone on their doorstep was just scarcely out of reach of his memory.
The effort that goes into reaching for something that you can't quite touch is exactly what's made him so tired. And so glad for Dorian's quiet home. He toes his boots off at the door and treads a little more lightly in someone's personal space than he tends to out in the world. As if he's suddenly more aware of the space he occupies.
"How long have you been here?" he asks again. The place looks so much more occupied than he might have expected. But he's been told that's how it is with this place. People show up here like someone's been expecting them.
Dorian was quite fortunate to find himself in a home that suited his aesthetics, a rather roomy, victorian style things (not that he would know that). It felt familiar to him in an architectural sense and from the perspective of opulence of which it smacked of. It was also quite comfortable, warm, welcoming, lived in though probably because those who had kept the place up before Dorian had wanted it to be in this condition. Its only downside was the spirits that haunted the place, they mostly kept to the halls and the attic space and rarely ventured anywhere else. They were most keen to avoid Dorian's sleeping area as well.
Aside from that, the house was quiet and as soon as they stepped past the threshold and toed off their shoes, Dorian immediately lit the fireplace and candles peppered around the sitting room with magic. Dorian then proceeded to remove his outer armor, gloves, and unnecessary accessories leaving him in his leathers and silk tunic. Laying these items in one of the many chairs in the sitting room he invited James to do the same if he wished. He wanted his companion to feel comfortable and secure in his home and while he examined his surroundings Dorian procured a few bottles of wine and glasses before lowering himself onto the most comfortable sofa, leaving the other half available when James wished to Join him. There was no hurry and he was free to explore at his leisure.
"Not overly long, a little over a month. The people who cared for this place made sure to keep it in a comfortable state," Dorian said propping one leg up so that an ankle rested over a thigh, "do you prefer white, red, or pink wine? I might have some brandy as well."
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INBOX MESSAGES
text; un: fern; September 1st
Naturally, he's going to the only person he knows of in town who seems to have any kind of knowledge about flora.]
hey i have a question for you about how plants survive without sunlight
namely
if they can at all
September 1st, later at night
this is kind of a big question
a really important one
September 2nd
i know you live out in the woods but that isn't a good excuse, i can merge with trees and you don't see me losing mine
September 2nd...... later
i get it if you are
but at least tell me so i know i need to find someone else to ask
September 3rd
what the heck man
September 3rd.......................... later
text | un: bearmitzvah - misfire
text | un: LUCKY
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text - backdated to early-ish april
not our Jean though
but still
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text | un: fuzzyelf
text | un: LUCKY
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speech ⮕ text; un: bbarnes (july 3)
It'll be at a farmhouse around Clarke Acres.
I really don't care if you come or not.
[ But he is gonna be the BIGGER MAN and invite your stupid partner-stealing ass, because he's a good person! Allegedly. ]
text; un: LUCKY
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1/3
2/3
3/3; im so sorry
lol dont be
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text; un: mols
Logan,
It's taken me days and days to get up the gumption to say so, but here goes: I am SO angry. I expected better of you. Please let me know when you will be in the office again so we can talk.
Sincerely,
Molly Solverson
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text; un: jeangrey
I'm pretty sure it's been more than a few weeks since we last spoke.
It's sort of funny how time flies even here in a dream.
Things have been getting pretty hectic since then.
Just hoping you're doing ok.
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un: bbarnes
[ Bucky’s back :) ]
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1/2
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Re: 2/2
cw: period prejudice
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text | dated early sept
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un: bbarnes
[ He can't believe he's actually doing this. He's asking permission, but he doesn't want to ruin a wedding or Molly's time there. Even that's too sleazy for Buck. ]
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a delivery
it's been real.
it's been weird.
it's been real weird.
see you on the flip side!
– GP
[ The pog is enchanted with dream magic, so that it can be given as a gift, but cannot be lost, stolen, or destroyed. ]
[Delivery]
LOGS
action; cw: hungover elf, possible smut
He breathes a small sigh of relief as he enters the welcome shade of the pines, already feeling more at home once he's within them with the cabin not far away. If he had been more awake and less hungover, he might have considered how odd it was to feel so comfortable in such a strange and difficult place, but as it is it's enough effort just to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Memories of the previous night crowd against him, trying to force their way into his mind. Memories of dancing, of glittering costumes and cold concrete under his cheek. He shrugs them off, forcing himself to concentrate on just getting back to the cabin. Just thinking about the party, how he might have acted, makes shame rise hot and sour in his throat. What had he said to Logan? How had he gotten into that state? What else had he done, what else could he have possibly --
He has to stagger aside from the path at that thought, clutching at a tree as he empties his stomach into the bushes, the rough bark digging into his palms. For a long moment he remains there, miserable and head hanging, then he forces himself to straighten up, spits acid bile onto the dirt, and continues on.
Logan isn't outside when he reaches the cabin, though Kurt's not about to fool himself into thinking that his arrival will go unnoticed. He limps slowly up to the door and eases it open, blinking a little as his eyes adjust from the midday sunlight to the cool dimness of the small room.
"Logan?"
cw: broken hearts and bitter rejection
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Continued from: https://bakerstreet.dreamwidth.org/6917297.html?thread=3048802481#cmt3048802481
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MISC
Christmas eve
It's a crossbow!
Because he can't exactly get Logan a bladed weapon, can he? A crossbow is clearly the next best thing.]
Cont. From: https://deerfeed.dreamwidth.org/159371.html?thread=21825675
"Latte. Skim milk. Two sugars." He regards the size of the cup a moment. "It's the biggest one the had."
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"You're so beardy."
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text. un. elixir
[ a long pause. a looooooong pause. josh types, deletes, and retypes the message half a dozen times.
fuck it. ]
could i ask a favor?
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text, August 19
Jean's dead. And she turned into the Phoenix before she went out.
It's not our Jean, but still a Jean.
I'm sorry.
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what set it off?
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Action; no reply; December 24th
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Ignoring a few stray glances from the staff he disappears into the mensroom to see if he's beaten Blake to the stalls.
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Staring at Logan through the mirror, he cocks an eyebrow at him while smirking, hands resting flat atop the counter. The bathroom isn't exactly sparkling but it's well-lit and there's absolutely no lock on the door that can be clicked into place without a key. It's going to be risky because the chance of someone coming in is probably pretty high.
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Dorian [ cont. from: https://deerington.dreamwidth.org/340217.html?thread=75430137#cmt75430137 ]
The effort that goes into reaching for something that you can't quite touch is exactly what's made him so tired. And so glad for Dorian's quiet home. He toes his boots off at the door and treads a little more lightly in someone's personal space than he tends to out in the world. As if he's suddenly more aware of the space he occupies.
"How long have you been here?" he asks again. The place looks so much more occupied than he might have expected. But he's been told that's how it is with this place. People show up here like someone's been expecting them.
no subject
Aside from that, the house was quiet and as soon as they stepped past the threshold and toed off their shoes, Dorian immediately lit the fireplace and candles peppered around the sitting room with magic. Dorian then proceeded to remove his outer armor, gloves, and unnecessary accessories leaving him in his leathers and silk tunic. Laying these items in one of the many chairs in the sitting room he invited James to do the same if he wished. He wanted his companion to feel comfortable and secure in his home and while he examined his surroundings Dorian procured a few bottles of wine and glasses before lowering himself onto the most comfortable sofa, leaving the other half available when James wished to Join him. There was no hurry and he was free to explore at his leisure.
"Not overly long, a little over a month. The people who cared for this place made sure to keep it in a comfortable state," Dorian said propping one leg up so that an ankle rested over a thigh, "do you prefer white, red, or pink wine? I might have some brandy as well."
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