Ainmhian Sample

[physioneural]

Who: Jeff Calhoun (bardish) & Open
What: A semi-belated arrival catch-all!
When: Jeff's first few weeks
Where: Mostly around the castle
Warning(s): Drug use in one prompt. Possible references to past addiction and recent violence/torture. Will warn in threads where appropriate.
It says a lot about how utterly fucked up his life's become that getting kidnapped by the fae doesn't even break the top ten list of weird and/or traumatizing things that have happened in the past six months. If anything, it's kind of a relief, a little chance for some long-overdue R&R after a bout of imprisonment, torture, and demonic possession.

(And that's not even getting into the super unethical science experiments, rampaging deities, and weird sex stuff that came before the whole imprisonment/torture/demon thing.)

(Boy, there's still so much for him to process.)

So that's why Jeff spends his first few days wallowing in his bed. He may leave for the absolute necessities of food, water, and hygiene, but otherwise, he might as well be a ghost, haunting one of the bedrooms in the Spring Wing. Still, people passing by his room may overhear some singing from time to time. It's mostly classic rock, artists like Bowie, Queen, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones-- the kind of stuff he never really sang on stage, but would always turn back to for comfort. The first songs he ever learned. Music that reminds him of his childhood.

He may be a reclusive sad-sack right now, but if anyone's curious enough to knock on the door, he won't turn them away.

After a few days of this, Jeff can at least put on a smile and act like his usual self, which, thank god, because he's starting to go totally stir crazy in this room. He's got such long legs, he needs to go out and stretch them! And it looks like the castle itself agrees, because as soon as he sets out and turns a corner, only to chicken out and turn around, it hides his goddamn room from him. Either it's fucking with him, or it's looking out for his mental well-being. Either way, it's time for Jeff to really explore his new home.

(Don't worry, the castle lets him find his room again when it's time for bed.)

In the common areas, Jeff hangs around looking through books-- particularly any book about magic or the fae-- poring over them with a bright-eyed curiosity. He'll also strike up a conversation with just about anyone who happens to be nearby, here and at mealtimes, no matter how grumpy or stand-offish they seem. Even Vilo the satyr isn't safe from his labrador retriever-like levels of enthusiastic friendliness. Sometimes, Jeff even tries to start a jam session with Vilo. Please distract him before the grumpy satyr throws something at him. (Or rescue Vilo from Jeff's persistent friendliness.)

Once he's more acclimated, Jeff starts to leave the castle more and more, exploring the city, venturing into the Wilds little by little. Mostly, he'll either go for a run, or he can be found simply... relaxing. Sitting in the grass, head tipped back, humming softly, a smile on his face as he takes in the nature and magic around him. (Yeah, he's totally blazed about 50% of the time. The weed at NeverLand is some good shit.)

Oh and you'd better believe that Jeff takes his time enjoying the baths in the Spring Wing. There's another place you can find him singing, doing some magic as he makes sparkling lights dance together with the falling petals. It's silly and frivolous, the magical equivalent of eating candy. But after the shit he's seen lately, before getting pulled to this world, it's a comforting sort of magic.

Pretty. Harmless. Doesn't drive people into a violent frenzy that ends with guts spilled all over the floor.

Sometimes, Jeff can't stop himself from thinking about it, even in these moments. That's when his breath hitches at the memory, and he chokes over the melody of his spell, magical lights flickering out as the petals lifelessly fall into the water.

"Fuck."

Comments

[bardish]

He stretches his arms up over his head, craning his neck to look up at Steve's familiar face. There are a few beats where confusion plays out quite nakedly over his expression. Is he so high he's imagining people from the island? Is he still on the island? Was all this fairy stuff a dream?

Or was Steve just whisked away the same as the others? After deliberating on it, Jeff goes with that, since it's the most obvious explanation. Regardless of the rich internal debate playing out in his head, Jeff just looks stoned and confused for a few moments, before blinking and beaming up at Steve with a relaxed smile.

"Dude... I grew up on the beach. I know what I'm doing."

He flashes a thumbs up at Steve. See, totally convincing!

[physioneural]

Uh huh, yep. Steve is totally convinced, you got 'im.

"A beach bum in the flesh. You might be my first..." Crossing the trail into the grass, Steve stands before the man with his hands in his pants pockets. His new concern is whether or not he wants to get down to his level with poor knees and hips. Or perhaps he'll be a swell guy and shade the man's face like this instead. That'll do.

[bardish]

Jeff laughs, sitting up just enough to prop himself up by his elbows as he looks up at Steve. Look, man, he totally appreciates the shade.

"Too bad we're a lonnnng ways away from a beach." He tilts his head, a little smile quirking at his lips. "Does that officially make me a fish out of water?"

[physioneural]

"Mm, well, you look like a natural lounging on dry land. Being multi-talented is a great quality to have on a resume," he tells Jeff with the utmost neutral smile that could ever be conceived on a man's face. So dry, much deadpan.

[bardish]

"I can lounge in all kinds of places. Multi-talented--" He holds up a finger to emphasize his point. "--and flexible."

It's hard to say if he's actually going for innuendo here or not. Regardless, Jeff reaches a hand up, either inviting Steve to join him on the grass, or give him a tug to urge him back up onto his feet. "Wanna join me? Or-- ooh! We could explore the woods! I hear there's all kinds of crazy shit here!"

[physioneural]

And it's equally as hard to tell if Steve took it that way. His smile spreads, but that could be from anything really.

"What could go wrong, huh?" He takes hold of Jeff's hand and braces himself to help pull the man up to his feet. He worried about his hips, but they don't ache like they should. What a pleasant side effect of being spirited away.

"You leading?"

[bardish]

Jeff stumbles a little to his feet, limbs made loose and noodley by the weed. Don't mind as he lightly holds on to your shoulder for support there, Steve. It's just a moment before his feet feel solid on the ground, then he's nice and steady.

"Uhhh... yeah!" He points in an arbitrary direction and gets to walking. "This way."

Looking over his shoulder at Steve, he shoots the other man a bright grin.

"We just have to avoid any weird plants. So... don't let me eat anything if I get the munchies."

[physioneural]

"The munchies? Is that an illness?" Steve's not sure what he's referring to. Hopefully it's not contagious, because his constitution is shit.

[bardish]

His eyes widen, as if he realizes some grave faux pas he just committed. Jeff covers his mouth with his hand and half-whispers (in a voice that's definitely too loud to fit any definition of 'whisper'), "Ohhhhh shit, that's right, you're from the past!"

At least he's not about to launch into some weed fueled existential crisis over the utter subjectivity of past-present-future or the indifferent march of time. Instead, Jeff screws up his face in thought, trying to think of the best explanation-- the one that doesn't make him sound like a pot smoking hippie-- before he remembers that he was raised by pot smoking hippies, so he should wear the label with pride anyway.

"I smoked a little bit of-- uh-- reefer? Grass? Marijuaaaana..." A beat, before he adds, "I swear, I'm not a huge stoner or anything! I have a job and pay my bills! Or-- ahh... I had a job and paid my bills before I was spirited away here..."

[physioneural]

That is definitely not what he expected a man of Jeff's age to admit to. His idea of a kid hooked on reefer isn't in the same ludicrous vein as the propaganda films, like Reefer Madness and The Devil's Lettuce, but as an older man during the resurgence of its use in college-age kids he knows hardly anything about it. Except for stereotypes.

"Hey, I'm not here to judge," he assures Jeff from behind him. "If you want to be a hippie slacker, that is between you and yourself—" Then after a beat,"—and God."

Just to rub a little seasoning into an open wound.

"I'm still not too keen on what the munchies have to do with your lifestyle choices, though."

[bardish]

He laughs and looks back over his shoulder at the other man, a playful, crooked grin on his face. “I think this might be one of the least objectionable things I’ve done, as far as God’s concerned...”

He says it lightly, with good humor, totally underplaying the real weight of his experiences. No need to let the guy know he was actually, literally, willingly possessed by a demon recently.

Jeff slows from his usual gait, so they can match pace, since it’s not like he reeeaally knows where he’s going, anyway. But the scenery’s pretty and the company’s enjoyable, and he’s happy to wander the woods until they get eaten by a wolf or something.

“It can kick up your appetite. Make you hungry.” After a beat, Jeff worries his lip and looks at Steve again, a little more serious now. “I’m really not— Uh. You know. A total pothead or anything.” He shoots him a weak smile. “I just get so freaked out sometimes, and it helps keep me grounded, and wow I’m gonna stop oversharing right now! How are you?”

[physioneural]

What a total spaz. It's rather endearing, actually. His reaction reminds Steve of all the new recruits who would fall over themselves to give off the perfect attitude. They would hush each other's foul language up if he came close enough to hear. As if Colonel Steve Rogers had never dropped an F-bomb in his life. Lul those sweet summer children.

"You're all right," he assures Jeff with a calm smile. Then he decides to share something about himself to make them 'even' as it were.

"I've got no experience with marijuana, but during my time in the military we were kept 'grounded' with amphetamine. It did wonders for your self-esteem. Until it ran out, of course." Then you felt like shit.