simran | fallow

[retethered]

WHO: Simran and you!
WHEN: Fallow
WHERE: Tulip barracks, Rosavelle streets
WHAT: Twenty-first century psychic stumbles into a fantasy romance kingdom!
ANYTHING ELSE: content warnings in subject headings if relevant

Comments

tulip barracks

[retethered]

[The conversation with the princess and their bodyguard had gone...pretty normally, all things considered? Simran isn't sure what she expected, but things had turned out to be kinda chill.

What isn't chill—she worries—is the fact that there's no ADA here.

And it might be fine! It might, truly, be fine. They're magic.

But the first time she enters the Tulip barracks, she peers around with some apprehension. And if there's anybody there as she enters:]

Um, hi, I'm Simran, I'm new—do you, uh, know if the room closest to the door is taken? I'm not so great at like, walking. [An awkward shake of her cane.]

[steel_over_blood]

[ There are nameplates on the doors in elegant calligraphy. This is Tulip specific, because Bulat lives here. In addition to English script, some of them have kanji, Cyrillic or Hangeul as well. ]

You wouldn't be the first here with that problem. Or even the third.

[ On closer inspection, the closest room without a nameplate is more of a halfway point. ]

Then again, I'm fully recovered. Have a seat and I'll switch us around!

[ He's a former army man and profession fugitive from the law; he's used to snap decisions and this is comparatively a very short move! ]

[retethered]

Wait, dude, for real? That's...wow, I really appreciate it. I, uh—this is what my "fully recovered" looks like, so. [She glances at the nameplate.] You're Bulat? Thanks a ton, Bulat.

[steel_over_blood]

That's right! I like to think of myself as everyone's reliable and handsome big brother figure.

[ He vanishes into the room. There is some scraping. He comes out carrying a whole wardrobe. One hand is taking almost all the weight; the other one's holding it closed. ]

Assuming our TDM thread is game canon

[monsterdaddy]

--Simran?

[Yoojin looks up from where he's been working on a needle felted... something. Then he chucks his project into a basket on the table and hops to his feet with a big smile.]

Hey! You got assigned to our barracks? That's awesome! Welcome! Here, take a seat, take a seat. That room's taken, but I'm sure we can do some tradesies. We're a pretty chill bunch here.

[retethered]

Yoojin, my man! I'm physical this time. [She claps him on the shoulder to prove it before settling down. She likes Yoojin, because an irrepressibly Californian part of her needs people she can safely call "dude" and "bro" and what have you.] Are any of the barracks not chill? Did I luck out with you all?

[monsterdaddy]

[He grins wider when her hand makes real contact with his shoulder and retakes his seat.]

Ehh, Tulip loyalty demands that I answer both questions with yes, duh, we're the best and everyone else smells.

[It's not long before he chuckles.]

But actually, nah. Everyone's pretty cool. A handful of folks act tougher than average, but we're all here as lovers, not fighters, right? It's a nice crowd.

kingdom streets (hover for translation!)

[retethered]

[Simran has found an audience!

Having managed to strike up a surprisingly pleasant conversation with a street musician, she's managed to draw a crowd by bringing a classical twist to the music they usually hear. Her voice, dancing between low alto and middling contralto, does not sound professional to anyone who is a professional, but she's fairly skilled for an amateur. Her impromptu performance features a mix of more old-timey stuff:]

Hamari sanson mein aaj tak woh henna ki khushboo mehak rahi hai / labon pe naghme machal rahe hain, nazar se masti jhalak rahi hai!

[...and reinterpreted pop:]

...kṛ-dha na dhi ra na, ga ma, ga ma, ma ga ma pa ma ga sa ni sa, come on now, follow my lead!

[Either way, if you approach between one song and the next, she'll turn to you with a bright grin.]

Hey! Like what you hear? [She's notably more eager if you seem like you recognize it, an event far more likely with the pop.] The street musicians here are crushing it, they're super flexible.

[likememore]

[Ena goes through a few stages of recognition, as she's walking down the street to replenish some crafting supplies, small reusable bag accumulating assorted thread, paint, and other odds and ends. First, she catches a new voice and reflects that she has to stop meeting people like this. Then she actually processes the more traditional stuff, and lets it wash over her as she walks between stores, with the mental image that it's good. Like, Niigo-grade solid. Not quite "someone is refining this and I'm missing a concert", but she could listen to this for a while if the genre were a little different.

Then the music changes, and something peppy she thinks she recognizes from junior high - if definitely not the way she's hearing it now. Her English is only ever as good as Yuki needs it to be for the song they're working on, but she kind of remembers the chorus, and boy, this snaps right on. Shopping forgotten, Ena drifts toward the music, captivated-

-and finds a new face to go with the new voice. She doesn't even know what language half of this is to join in, but her eyes are bright and she's attentive, watching the show with interest. When she wraps up and her attention's noticed, Ena grins, clapping politely but with enthusiasm.]

Mm, you're pretty good, I'm impressed! And the last festival, I think they dragged me into dancing and singing half a dozen times, so, ah. I've gotten a little used to it? Kind of?

[retethered]

Oh, cool, can you sing too? It's fun to have lots of musicians here. I'm used to everyone just playing whatever they want off their phones or whatever, but like, it's neat to have to work with what's actually available. No synths or MIDIs or—wait, you have those, right? Uh, no...automatic music machines?

pink thing number 1 comes first

[thirdmonthoftheyear]

[The performance attracts a particularly odd duck to the crowd, who, for a moment, sings along to Simran's first song... with a clunky English translation. Then she pauses, cocks her head to the side, then taps her temple a few times before continuing with the actual lyrics, clapping along. After the song, she bounds up to Simran, a big ol' grin on her face.]

I loved it! It's different from most stuff I listen to, but I swear I've heard something kinda similar before...? Eh, whatever, do you have an vinyl I can take home? It'd sound REALLY good on the parlor car's phonograph.

[retethered]

[Hearing anybody fluent enough to even wrap their tongue around Hindi-Urdu is a genuine surprise. Seeing that the anybody in question is March...certainly contributes to that surprise! But then again, who knows. Maybe Desis are achieving a cultural victory wherever March is from.

The mention of a phonograph does actually get a laugh from her.]

Well, they did write these during phonograph times! I didn't think I was vinyl material, but listen, set me up with a recording booth and I'll happily hit my debut. "Ghazals to Remember, by Simran Akhtar."

frost crab frenzy

[retethered]

[Lost something to a crab? Chasing after it in a hurry? As you do, you may find yourself inadvertently herding the creature towards Simran, who frowns, folds her hands over her cane, and just...

stares at it.

And, curiously, it seems to work. The crab slows down, looks at whatever it's holding, and for some unfathomable reason drops it and scurries off.

For her part, Simran holds her frown of concentration until it's well out of sight, before her features relax.]

Really didn't know if that would work on a crab, but I guess I still got it. Or I got...more of it? Something like that. Anyway, uh—[she leans down to retrieve whatever it is that the crab's dropped]—this yours?

Re: frost crab frenzy

[soldragon]

[Ryu, for a long moment, stares at the faintly glowing visor in her hands.]

Technically it's city property, but it's my signature on the sign-out, so...

[He looks decently bashful at the admission.]

I came by yesterday to help, but I guess it's pretty hard to keep them away from shiny things...

[retethered]

[Simran...looks down at the visor, and then back at Ryu.]

...this is the city's? It looks really like—sciencey. Technological. That's the word.

twilight mirages

[retethered]

It's late at night in the streets of Rosavelle, and lights flicker in the corner of your eyes.

They don't last long, but they do beckon, calling you away from the main roads and central squares. It's not hard to see them for what they are—illusory, and the mirage is far from resilient.

But if you do indulge them—out of ignorance, curiosity, or some other impulse—they will lead you down one road and then another. And just as you might begin to recall that few cultures will tell a person to follow strange lights in the dark—

—they vanish. But they've led you somewhere: a dimly-lit park playing host to a girl sitting on a bench in a single, modern-looking jacket. She's barely nineteen and shivering as she wraps her arms around herself, with a cane leaning against the bench next to her.]

Hi! Hi, hi. [She rubs her arms.] I am! Kind of a dumbass! In that I really didn't dress for the weather. Do you, uh, think you could help me back to the castle?

[nightwild]

[Yayoi knows about stories. Ghosts, yokai, whatever. Lights that lure someone out is always dangerous... That means she has to follow it. Because she's strong, and whoever else gets caught might not be. She has to put a stop to whatever this is before someone gets hurt.

So she approaches Simran, her mirror on her wrist, ready to start fighting...

... and then it's just a normal girl. A new advisor, from the looks of things.]

You... aren't a ghost.

[thank you, captain obvious. Yayoi is looking this girl over, trying to reconcile the threat she was expecting and the normal girl in front of her.]

[retethered]

[A shivery little laugh.]

Ha! No, no, not anymore. Super alive, these days. Why, you deal with ghosts a lot?

i'm so sorry for length wheezes

[wingstosee]

[ there are lights dancing through the air, and they aren't hers.

in the corners of a hundred eyes. coiling around lampposts. refracting through glass and coalescing together again. they aren't real, not exactly - not in the way the devil once spoke to her, not in the way where knowledge and dream and hallucination begin to merge - but does that really matter? has it ever?

she follows them, a quiet curiosity driving her forward long past the point of this is a bad idea. and when she finally escapes the labyrinth into a park, sees a girl shivering on a park bench- ]

Oh. Um. Hey there.

[ she's bundled up a fair bit more than simran, down to being fully covered in a long cloak. her wings remain tucked behind her, huddled under the fabric; she appears almost human like this, short of a glow just too bright to be moonlight to her skin. and as she crosses the distance between them, taking in the sight before her, she finally says: ]

Yeah, I can- I can do that. For sure. Do you, um... [ she nearly asks if the girl needs carried. it's easy when laws like gravity and physics no longer matter to you, after all. but the cane hovers in view, even with so many eyes covered, and after a moment she pivots to- ] Do you want to take my cloak while we walk? I feel like I'm probably better with the cold than you...

don't be i love it!

[retethered]

[Barely five words make it out of Venus's mouth before a smile slips its way across Simran's face.

Because she can't know, really, and it would be insanely rude to ask. Some girls want to just have it go unnoticed, right?

But she doesn't get out a lot. She doesn't really know any trans women in person, just online. And she can't be sure, really, but as much as she repeats that to herself, the timbre of Venus' voice has already brought her heart around. She likes this girl.

These thoughts occupy so much of her mind that she barely notices the glow.]

...yeah! Yeah, that'd be great! [She pulls herself to her feet.] Thanks so much. I'm Simran. [Her own voice is androgynous enough that her transness could be a coin toss—a quality her valley-girl vocal fry contributes to.]

sorry to dogpile with pink thing number 2 but this prompt is too good for her

[thirdmonthoftheyear]

[The woman who suddenly appears on the bench next to Simran also isn't dressed for the cold, but she doesn't so much as shiver. Did March 7th turn goth, or-

As soon as she opens her mouth, though, that illusion is dispelled.]

Of course. [Evernight's March-mandated good deed of the day has been secured. Now to see if she can get her dose of Vitamin J (jumpscare).] But only if you promise not to lead me astray ♭

[retethered]

—Jesus.

[Simran's a good source of Vitamin J.]

March?

[But the red eyes, the outfit, the new lilt to her voice, her posture—it's all wrong for March.]

...probably not exactly, huh. She know you're doing this?

[goldship]

[ Creepy stuff happens in Nowhere Tracen, that's just a fact of life. There's people that Deal With It there though, reliable sorts like Manhattan Cafe or Stay Gold, so Golshi leaves well enough alone usually. Neither of those people are in Rosavelle or Around, and she doesn't have a way to quickly contact her go toes she knows here. So she resolved to Deal With whatever the spooky ominous lights are herself.

She did NOT expect to run into someone whomst is probably a new advisor (modern fit gives it away a bit) just, kinda freezing her ass off in the middle of a park late at night. That's uh... hmm. Odd. ]

Hi yourself. You uh... ya alone out here?

[ She's in her Rosavelle Usuals tonight, just sans fancy hat and instead wearing her bridal like headgear/hat combo. So Luckily for Simran she's got layers she can spare. She unclasps the cloak around her shoulders as she approaches, ears twitching this way and that as if they'll hear something Spoopy if she pays attention. ]

Didn't see anythin' out here that'd make ya wanna call the Ghostbusters didcha?

1/2

[retethered]

[Oh god it's Misty of Chincoteague. Didn't Yoojin say she kicked? Simran genuinely might not survive a Gold Ship kick.]

[retethered]

No, no ghosts, nothin' to bust. Just your average disabled girl. [Please no kicky.] I have...a bad habit of getting more excited to explore than my muscles can really handle. This is like the fourth time I've gotten stuck out here, honestly.