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Hello, Quentin.
I've decided to wear a long black coat of a military cut, gold trim and accents, with only the top two buttons fastened. Paired with black satin volumous pants with a low waist and decorative beading and a black and gold high necked top. [Ianthe's outfit description was only enough to give him an udea what to look for.]
Though I might forgo the top all together. I haven't decided yet.
I've decided to wear a long black coat of a military cut, gold trim and accents, with only the top two buttons fastened. Paired with black satin volumous pants with a low waist and decorative beading and a black and gold high necked top. [Ianthe's outfit description was only enough to give him an udea what to look for.]
Though I might forgo the top all together. I haven't decided yet.
[It's the early hours of the morning, the sky only just starting to lighten outside when there's a tap tap taping on Quentin's mind. It's soft, not trying to wake him, just draw his awareness if he's awake already.
Or at least, that's the intention, anyway.]
Or at least, that's the intention, anyway.]
Can you choose which dreams to visit or are you just a window shopper?
[Takes him a couple days to get comfortable with the freakiness of a telepathic network, but - what, it's like dictation on an iphone just... directly out of your own head, right? Hey Alexa, write something slutty:]
Yo, hotstuff. WYD?
Yo, hotstuff. WYD?
[ What does it feel like when someone is gone?
Nikolai can't say. He has never experienced telepathy before his arrival here, and has no comparisons to make. Ergo, the first murmur of a name into the silence (Quentin?) is followed by confused surprise by the absence of answer.
A second nudge, then a third, come intermittently throughout the day, questioning. Uncertain at the lack of connection, but persistent, as if repeating the experiment will eventually yield the response it should.
Late, exhausted, a last searching prod of a question: ]
Where are you?
Nikolai can't say. He has never experienced telepathy before his arrival here, and has no comparisons to make. Ergo, the first murmur of a name into the silence (Quentin?) is followed by confused surprise by the absence of answer.
A second nudge, then a third, come intermittently throughout the day, questioning. Uncertain at the lack of connection, but persistent, as if repeating the experiment will eventually yield the response it should.
Late, exhausted, a last searching prod of a question: ]
Where are you?
Edited (immediately fussing about word choice) 2023-12-28 05:40 (UTC)
It's an odd way to communicate with someone for the first time, I am aware, but I am in need of some sort of sedative and you are the one I was directed to for help.
[ hel p]
[ hel p]
( late, during those familiar sleepless hours, on the night before he's set to tread back into town for the first time since the moot hall and the last time he saw quentin's face: )
do you still have it?
( the scar. )
do you still have it?
( the scar. )
The Harrington you know, was it Steve? Steve Harrington? Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers?
[He's ill, you see. He's going to be sick.]
[He's ill, you see. He's going to be sick.]
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