Fabrice Georges Coombs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ofcatsandfate) wrote2015-07-14 10:51 am
ofcatsandfate) wrote2015-07-14 10:51 am
Entry tags:
Oh deer.
Now that Fabrice has moved back in, gotten settled, and assured his beloved cats that yes, this time, they are home to stay, he really craves a Quill run. He has the rest of today off, not starting work back at the zoo until tomorrow, and he desperately needs a greasy junk food fix. Sating his cats with an extra can of wet food (and God, do they ever have him wrapped around their paws, with their big, sad eyes and pitiful meows every time he so much as blinks), he grabs his wallet and keys and heads out the door. He pauses for a moment in his walkway to send a text to Cecilia, just to see how she's doing, before shoving his phone into his pocket and heading on his way.
He could ride his bike for the extra exercise as he heads into town, but today, with its slightly less humid temperature and overcast sky, feels like a day for walking. It's been too long since he's last had the chance to enjoy the view of Siren Cove coming in from the outside; the gradual decline of trees into civilization is a beautiful sight, and if he had any artistic abilities, he would dearly love to paint it.
And, he thinks to himself, though he tries not to, this venture is also a test, of sorts. Ever since that night in Oregon, at that bar, Fabrice has had more cause to worry about venturing out in public. That asshole, Donny, he thinks, who started bragging about how many wolves he's killed; he continued from there about derogatory remarks about the women he's slept with, and then wound up getting in Fabrice's face once he saw how uncomfortable he'd been at the source of his conversation. He kept prodding at Fabrice until he nearly punched him in the face. Said asshole also turned out to be a witch. A damned good one, considering how quickly and subtly he'd managed to curse Fabrice.
Fabrice now lets out a steadying breath. He refuses to let that jerk win, from however many miles away they are apart. As long as he remains calm, and he doesn't let his nerves get the better of him, he ought to be okay.
Surprisingly, his resolution holds; he doesn't encounter any mishaps on his way to Siren Cove. At least, not until he reaches the edge of town, where various people sprawl in the damp grass, on blankets with books and significant others to keep them company. He smiles briefly at the sight, though his heart aches a little at it, too. He manages to clear his head of those thoughts a moment later, distracting himself with thoughts of a black raspberry iced tea and a bear claw to go with it.
This is, of course, the moment that a teenager nearly collides into him on his bicycle. Fabrice's stomach drops as the tingling sensation that comes with every transformation begins spreading across the tiny hairs on his arms, like wildfire. He desperately looks for a place to hide, but by then, he's already dropped to all fours, and it's all he can to quickly shove his wallet and phone in his mouth as the magic takes over.
He arises minutes later, fully a deer. The teenager gapes at him, before running off and screaming. The various people gathered begin to panic in their own ways. Shit, he thinks. And then he runs, back towards the woods, knowing he's already failed his own test. And possibly a few laws, while he's at it.
[OOC: Basically, Fabrice's curse is that he transforms into his animal form every time he's startled/overly nervous. I want to play it out as a plot for a little bit, so I do ask that any magical suggestions not work for while yet. Eventually, he'll overcome it, but not yet. Set to late morning/early afternoon; feel free to have witnessed him transform from anywhere on the edge of town by the woods! Have him nearly run your pup down or whatever you like. A good time to meet him, despite everything. Open to all!]
He could ride his bike for the extra exercise as he heads into town, but today, with its slightly less humid temperature and overcast sky, feels like a day for walking. It's been too long since he's last had the chance to enjoy the view of Siren Cove coming in from the outside; the gradual decline of trees into civilization is a beautiful sight, and if he had any artistic abilities, he would dearly love to paint it.
And, he thinks to himself, though he tries not to, this venture is also a test, of sorts. Ever since that night in Oregon, at that bar, Fabrice has had more cause to worry about venturing out in public. That asshole, Donny, he thinks, who started bragging about how many wolves he's killed; he continued from there about derogatory remarks about the women he's slept with, and then wound up getting in Fabrice's face once he saw how uncomfortable he'd been at the source of his conversation. He kept prodding at Fabrice until he nearly punched him in the face. Said asshole also turned out to be a witch. A damned good one, considering how quickly and subtly he'd managed to curse Fabrice.
Fabrice now lets out a steadying breath. He refuses to let that jerk win, from however many miles away they are apart. As long as he remains calm, and he doesn't let his nerves get the better of him, he ought to be okay.
Surprisingly, his resolution holds; he doesn't encounter any mishaps on his way to Siren Cove. At least, not until he reaches the edge of town, where various people sprawl in the damp grass, on blankets with books and significant others to keep them company. He smiles briefly at the sight, though his heart aches a little at it, too. He manages to clear his head of those thoughts a moment later, distracting himself with thoughts of a black raspberry iced tea and a bear claw to go with it.
This is, of course, the moment that a teenager nearly collides into him on his bicycle. Fabrice's stomach drops as the tingling sensation that comes with every transformation begins spreading across the tiny hairs on his arms, like wildfire. He desperately looks for a place to hide, but by then, he's already dropped to all fours, and it's all he can to quickly shove his wallet and phone in his mouth as the magic takes over.
He arises minutes later, fully a deer. The teenager gapes at him, before running off and screaming. The various people gathered begin to panic in their own ways. Shit, he thinks. And then he runs, back towards the woods, knowing he's already failed his own test. And possibly a few laws, while he's at it.
[OOC: Basically, Fabrice's curse is that he transforms into his animal form every time he's startled/overly nervous. I want to play it out as a plot for a little bit, so I do ask that any magical suggestions not work for while yet. Eventually, he'll overcome it, but not yet. Set to late morning/early afternoon; feel free to have witnessed him transform from anywhere on the edge of town by the woods! Have him nearly run your pup down or whatever you like. A good time to meet him, despite everything. Open to all!]
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"Yes, well," he says sheepishly. "I was dressed and then I kind of...shifted against my will in the park."
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His gaze shifts to Thor then; he smiles at the dog. "A familiar, huh? He seems to suit you, Aoife."
"Yes, shifted. It's...complicated."
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"Thank you", she smiles. "That's good to hear from another witch. I had to get used to him. Is there something wrong with you're shifting?"
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"I, er. Well." He winces. He knows it's his own fault, giving in to the provoked reaction the other witch obviously wanted back in that bar; it still doesn't make it easy to talk about. "I got into an argument in a bar, and well. The other witch managed to get the best of me, and cursed me."
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Aoife takes a step back, although she well knows that a curse can't catch. Definitely not with the caster not around. "Fabrice! And an argument? Since when do you get into arguments? Where would you even have an argument about? " She rubs her face. "Apologies, that was close to being rude. Dear cousin, how can I help you?"
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"It was a bar in Oregon," he admits, figuring he should at least provide his cousin with the whole truth. "This man was making crude remarks about animals he'd killed for sport." To say nothing of his objectification of women. Fabrice tends to hide from confrontation when he can, but something about this witch only further fueled his ire.
"I don't know," he admits. "I've been researching possible cures, but nothing seems to work."
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If there was one subject you didn't cross her cousin on, it was animals and their rights. Years ago Aoife would have shaken her head over getting into danger because of something silly but now, with Thor.. "That is certainly not something to joke about." Her dog pressed against his legs. "But to- you got him as well, right? To have received such a treatment, you must have gotten him first?" Fabrice might not be a fighter, but he was still a Coombs.
"I will look through our books. Have you.. did you ask Moira yet?"
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He tries to avoid violence, considering how much it defines his life. But he is, after all, a Coombs.
"I haven't yet," he says. "I don't want to trouble her, when she already has enough on her mind."
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"Moira has little time to catch up. Assuming you know how she is back into her own mind again. The two of you were always closer than the two of us. No matter what, we stay family.."
She can't talk about it. "Are there others that know about this? This happening to you?"
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"I knew a little bit about her losing her memory and everything that went along with that," he admits. "But I haven't seen her since I've been back." He smiles at the mention of family.
"No, so far, just you," he tells her.
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"Wait, if you are back, that means Cecilia has returned as well?" While Aoife feels that she misses the click Fabrice shares with her oldest sister, Cecilia is someone Aoife always loves to be around without feeling less than complete. "Not even her, Fabrice? What would she think?"
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He winces at the mention of Cecilia's name, knowing he has to confess to her sooner or later. "She's been in town longer than I have," he says. "And I may have been avoiding her partly because of it."
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Thor yelps in sympathy, pressing even closer. "But you keep your sanity, right, as a deer? And no-one shoots anything in the middle of town so that's. . We will simply fix it before it starts. Of course."
"Oh Fabrice! She is your twin sister, she will know without you telling her and it will hurt her. I don't think that is going to make anything better. We all need each other right now."
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"You're right again," he says, glancing at her with a rueful expression. "Twins always just seem to know. I'm hoping to see her soon."
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Thor yawns and she gets the hint. "At least you don't have to fear this terrible hunter anymore."
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He runs his hand through his hair sheepishly again. "Yes, well. I like to think I've learned from past experiences."
"And who is this terrible hunter? He's a beauty," he says, offering his hand for the dog to sniff.
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She smiles. "Not on the level of you and your cats, but he is still so young, and I was never taught about familiars ..so. We will see. The magic feels like it belongs again, at least."
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"You two seem to suit each other," he notes with a smile. "I'm glad you both have each other."
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"Or maybe they would, in the case of Windvane. She was weird, I am w- I guess we will never know, Fabrice. But he is here now, when I need him. It's almost tempting to call upon anything and everything now, instead of slightly scary."
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He's trying not to be judgmental, but he can't help but worry when he hears that. Necromancy is a dangerous magic; one he's done his best to avoid. But not his cousin. It seems as though Aoife has inherited the same, reckless Coombs genes as Moira.
"Well, I'm happy to hear that you feel more confident in your magic; that's a wonderful thing," he assures her. "Just...be careful, alright?"
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"I don't remember her name, but she is a local. Talks with ghosts, pushed Thor onto me. I'm not that dumb, Fabrice. I know there are limits we should live by, and I do live by them. I didn't do anything to gain him, but I am taking care of him for as long as he will be with me."
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Thor looks to Fabrice as though he means to protect Aoife. He can't fault her for taking care of an animal, even if she didn't ask for it. His expression softens. "As long as you're comfortable with taking care of him, that's all that matters. I'll still be around if you have any questions, though."
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Unlike so many family members. "You have experiences with the necromancy magic? Or are you referring to your books?"
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"I've read about it," he says. "I avoid it, otherwise."
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