Fabrice Georges Coombs (
ofcatsandfate) wrote2015-07-14 10:51 am
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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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Fabrice doesn't think any less of Auryn for appearing untrained, going by what he mentions about his abilities remaining somewhat undefined. He thinks it's ridiculous, the way some with power, who've had the luck of being able to study and educate themselves at their leisure, look down upon those with less of a chance at magical education. "That's incredible," he says. "I don't think I could talk to the universe, though, shouting into the void after a particularly long day sometimes helps." He manages a kindly grin.
Fabrice wonders if he's seen his name in the papers; the attack wasn't exactly hushed up, being so heavily drenched in the Coombs vs. Thornton curse conspiracy. If not, Fabrice doesn't exactly know how to explain that he was nearly murdered by his own aunt. Not exactly a typical conversation starter. "I live out in the woods, myself," Fabrice says. "It certainly makes magic much more easier. And less likely to draw attention to oneself." He frowns. "You shouldn't have to be quiet about your magic, I don't think." Fabrice knows the laws are in place for a reason, but he also doesn't see why anyone with powers ought to feel ashamed of those abilities.
"Really?" He says, tilting his head curiously. The motion retains something of the deer he was just moments before. "I suppose our family stories travel as fast as any other gossip. Siren Cove does seem to attract a lot of the magical crowd."
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Auryn gives him an empathetic smile at that. "Do you?" he asks curiously. "Wish you could become an animal, fully?"
"Thank you," he replies, genuinely. "I don't think it's much different than anyone who does spellwork. Reaching for something you don't already have. I don't know." He rubs the back of his neck. "My father's whole family are witches, but I was --" He presses his lips together. Usually he shares his story openly if bitterly, but something holds him back. "I didn't grow up with him. And magic wasn't encouraged, where I did. So I don't know if I explain my powers very well. What of yours? Solely shifting, or something else?"
Auryn nods, with a small smile; he'd thought himself unusual in his preference for solitude, and it definitely does make magic easier. "Easier to concentrate, as well. Do you live around these parts, or...? I wonder if we're neighbors without knowing it." His smile widens a little at Fabrice's assertion. "I appreciate that," he says. "Not everyone shares your opinion. Anything different is frightening to," he waves generally. "The status quo. Whether that's race, sexuality, magic." He might be willing to die for the right to his magic, but that doesn't mean he's ignorant of other oppression: it all makes him angry. "People will do a lot to make someone feel - agree - that they're lesser."
"Now you've found out the real reason I live in the woods," he grins with only a little bit of apology.
"But yes, Siren Cove's a magnet for magic, and among the scattered witches in the rest of the country it's a bit of a legend. I've been looking for a place with a community, somewhere I could learn and practice safely." He smiles wryly. That's not quite what Siren Cove has been, but he's settled here for better or worse.
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"Selfishly, yes. Mostly as a means of escape." He offers Auryn an uneasy smile. His introversion is difficult to explain to other people; most aren't understanding when one tells them that they've fallen asleep on people just to get them to leave, too exhausted to deal with more socialization.
"It's its own magic," Fabrice says. "And it's no less valid than any other form of magic. I hope people truly haven't been giving you grief for that." He doesn't think it's right or fair for people to judge others based on their skills and abilities; it's what he so disliked about his own aunt. "I'm sorry you grew up where magic was discouraged. That must have been tough."
"I shift, but I also do spellwork," he admits, at last letting his hand fall out of his hair to hang by his side. "I concentrate on healing spells and magic that has to do with animals, but I'm pretty decent with charms, too. Trying to work on improving my self-defense magic," he adds with a self-deprecating smile.
"We very well could be," Fabrice nods, his smile turning genuine. "I do live around these parts. On the same street as my mother, as it turns out." He'll let Auryn make of that what he will; many people have already given him enough grief about it, as is.
"No kidding," he nods. "And it makes people react in terrible, harmful ways."
"I realize our history is very...interesting," he says. "I didn't realize just how far those interests reached."
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He smiles encouragingly though, nodding at the answer. Auryn can handle social activities, even well sometimes, it just tends to be more likely to be one on one, or based around a mutual activity and a combined anger at the status quo, like his friends in high school. He's not uncomfortable alone in the woods for days or weeks at a time.
It makes him oddly comfortable to know someone else would rather be around animals than people.
"No more grief than I've been given for having magic," he says wryly, wondering if Fabrice has seen the news about his arrest or not. It wouldn't be the best first impression to make. He's seen his name before in the papers too, now that he has a moment to think about it, but his focus has been on learning about the historical Coombs more than the current misadventures. He sticks his hands in his pockets and nods briefly. "I didn't realize for a long time how much I missed out on. When I did it was -- an awakening." He remembers pouring through books, sitting on the floor of the county library between stacks with tomes on religion and history and paranormal trying to piece what wasn't being said together from the books that hadn't been banned outright in his rural little area.
He smiles. "I don't know much about healing," he admits. "Something needs fixing up, I do it with my own hands. But I could teach you some things about self defense, if you wanted."
Auryn gestures back a little ways down the street. "I'm not exactly on a street," he says, "more like a trail. But not far from here." He isn't sure what to think about him living close to his mother; he doesn't know enough about their family dynamics and, now that he's met Fabrice, he's even less likely to look it up behind their back.
Auryn acknowledges with a decisive nod. "It shouldn't be that way," he says. "I want to be, at least, the sort of person who doesn't stand for it."
"You'd be surprised how far a legend will reach to people desperate to believe in something."
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At that, Fabrice's eyebrows shoot up, and he suddenly realizes he's seen Auryn before. "Hold on. That wasn't you they arrested the other day, was it?" He always winds up studying the papers, especially for stories regarding magic and its uses. He remembers being unnerved by the story of the arrest; he still doesn't understand why 'open displays of magic' are so policed in a town so defined by its history of magic.
"I'd like to learn more about self-defense," he says. "I could teach you about charms and healing, in exchange, if you wanted?" Fabrice is always happy to expand his magical abilities, and he's happy to have found another witch who seems to feel the same.
"Off the beaten path, then?" He ventures a small grin. Fabrice tends toward shyness in a lot of ways, but he doesn't regret living so close to his mouth. He's heard his fair share of disparaging remarks about his living situation; he doesn't care. He prefers remaining close to his family, to help out whenever he can.
"I suppose that is true," he nods. He never considered it from that perspective before. "And Siren Cove does have a lot of legends."
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He's relieved, then, that his first impression and ensuing unhappiness about it doesn't chase the young man away. He lifts his head and smiles. "I'd like that," he answers. The healer of his childhood home had been his mother, and her magic had been religious ritual and folk knowledge rather than true power, but any memory of herbalism he has, is from her. The idea of knowing some real charms is appealing on a number of levels.
"Very much so." Auryn's smile widens into a small, self-aware grin. "Always, if I can help it." He nods at the woods. "I could show you sometime."
"It does. I'd never found myself reading about sirens so much in my life."
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"I know," he says. "I do believe that is partially because of my family and the supposed 'town curse.' Which really is ridiculous. Not everyone with magic deserves to be punished because of what happened in the past."
"Oh, good," Fabrice smiles. There's something almost quaint about exchanging one set of magical skills for another; like a farmer's market for witches. He likes the idea of it very much.
"I'd like that, too," he says.
"There are just as many sirens here as witches, I reckon," he says, shoving his hands into his pocket and chewing his lip thoughtfully.
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He shakes his head slightly. "Perhaps it's exacerbated," he says, "but the reason for that curse, if it ever existed, was because fear of witches existed already. Enough to make the Coombs' standing unsuitable to the Thorntons," he reasons. "It's the 21st century. Our lives and our laws would be unrecognizable to your ancestors. If there's someone to blame for the laws on the books, it's not them. Much less anyone with their name," he inclines his head.
The idea of trading skills gives Auryn a warm feeling, heightened by the idea of learning something new. It seems right to him.
"You're welcome, if you want to sit down inside for a bit. And I mean, you're only a little smaller than I am. You could borrow some jeans to get home in, at least." He nods toward the path. "I won't be offended if you say no," he adds, "given that we just met, just seems like you've had a rough day."
[OOC: This is SO. LATE. Totally okay if you want to fade.]