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!]
no subject
"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.
no subject
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.]