thunderstorms & gunfire.

it flares up; synergy. wyll, though linked to mizora in power and pact, the instinct and reflexes and independent smarts keep him on his toes. these are traits of his own; habits under his possession. he swerves when he should, leaps back when aims nearly strike true — and rapier in hand, deflects clashing longswords with determined resistance. acts of heroism that are fed by a swell of empathy, of protection. astarion is as dextrous as they come, as stealthy as shadow, and still — wyll perspires, gritting teeth and wary eye flitting over amidst conflict. where they work best is in roaring distractions that lead to a cloaked sharpshooting. neither of them are particularly thick in flesh — the serrated edges of varying weaponry, and the bite of elements, piercing then through light armour — they need only bear it a little longer. just enough time for the innocents to sail off — just enough time to call astarion to follow suit. "come! — we'll hold them off by the port!" wyll swivels on his heel, a beckoning hand urging company towards a tactical retreat, delaying a tailing through a hellish darkness that encircles behind them.

How peaceful.

he stares, amusement somewhat apparent in the folded line of his mouth. "are you adopting my hobbies now?" it's a teasing nudge, one that seems to highlight the distance they've travelled, proves oliver's comfort when set in minwei's company. he's so often on his own -- by intention -- and then by fate, that the plain-ness of their arrangement continues to surprise him. he takes a sip, clears his throat, and recounts the order of yu minwei's inquiries. "i remember dreams as they are. not all of them are -- as feverish. and no siblings, that i know of. i'm born here, from here. and i'm not -- entirely anchored. i'm mostly weighed down by the simple fact that there's always more to know." and then, fondly, with a sheepish, vague gesture, "more people to know." oliver doesn't even think of it as searching. he meanders, wades through moment by moment, nearly reptilian with his focus. and he knows there are stories to be shared all over the globe, but stubbornness keeps him certain that the uncut gems live right around the corner. the journeys that keep his world spinning on an axis -- they come from neighbours, from cabbies, from repairmen, from salon artists. and oliver likes the faces they make when he asks them questions. he takes another sip, eyes drifting down then to the mug nestled in yu minwei's cradling palm. "should i get us food before i continue?"

Crying in public spaces? Soleil has reached a whole new low, and this time she's not sure she wants to dig herself out. Every girl needs a bender of nothing but sobbing. That's a completely healthy idea, right? She gasps and looks over her shoulder when she hears someone whisper out to her. Seeing it's Cass, she quickly wipes her tears away, but undoubtedly still looks like a sad case. "Hey," she sniffles. "Yeah, m'alright. Just, uh... havin' a moment."

the recognition is immediate, though it's sympathy and a knee jerk, compulsive worry that swings to the forefront. she sinks to a bended knee, a slow reaching but gentle hand resting atop soleil's shoulder. "have whatever moment you need," cass adds, intent on reassuring her. "...do you want to talk about whatever's bothering you though? you can be as descriptive or as vague as you like." she offers a tilted smile then, "plus i've been told i'm a good listener."

he nods, eyes alight when daniel stitches his response without any -- perceived -- barrier. the frank nature of their discussion; the sincerity is like honey to him, like perfect fodder for the curious machine that churns in his head. it makes the transition easy, natural. for someone naturally deprived of social charms (or so oliver's been told) -- daniel swings without hesitation. "is it safe to assume you're an atheist? or agnostic?" and then, because inquiries of faith and religion tend to weigh heavier than other topics, he offers vulnerability of his own. "on text i would say i'm the latter, though labels as a whole tend to muddle identifying affairs -- when it comes to my own personal preference. there are cultural beliefs i hold that grey and bleed into faith, but not in the organized, measured way people tend to talk about religion." oliver pauses, lips curling up at the edges of his mouth. "have i bored you yet? -- or am i still 'interesting'?"

@clearwinged meet rosemary clement lookin' at me.

"whoa! -- whoa, don't worry -- didn't mean to make you jump." habit's why his hands reach out instinctively, steadying shoulders without prompt. it's part of his brand anyway, touch, intimacy without full -- in-depth -- logical -- sound reason. plus he's seen her around enough to feel familiar, to know inklings. stripes overhears more than he should sometimes, because he balances somewhere between curious -- and attentive. his ex had said it sweet once; maybe just a little bit obsessive too -- a little bit like a dog wearing a cone. it funnels. circles down the metaphorical drain. sounded like a compliment to him -- sounded like an insult to everyone else. he tips his chin down slightly, eyes like marbles when they take in the flush of her cheeks. "sorry, i wanted to talk. to you. i've uh, seen you here quite a bit. assuming you're from the area?" a thin sliver of tongue darts across stripes' bottom lip. "i c'mere a lot."

there's a warmth between the two of them, not the friendly type like running into an old friend, but not just the physical type either. like they are two difference forces of nature, generating their own heat and weight, drawn into each other and seeing what reaction comes from their encounters. when she's felt cold her entire life, the life of an antonova is often a frigid one, kane is a blast of heat that seems to change her every molecule.

the cool in the air is just enough to keep him from turning the challenge down. he'd rather be outside anyway, and maybe this is a good idea to go an grab his bike, take out out, head off to the bluffs with kane. "i know a place. we'll have to stop by my shop. it's a quick walk from here." he nods as he follows after the once was stranger.

Oliver studies the whale of his memory; Yu Minwei studies Oliver.

it's an unnecessary compliment -- which is why oliver warms. kind and high in regard, even if presumably half-hearted, because it's sincere, and real, and yu minwei doesn't need to covet him. they're already friends, acquaintances, partners in -- artful discussion -- in worldly deep dives. but his lips purse, a slight frown surfacing when they teeter back into dream territory. food will have to wait, apparently. "small, somewhat." he thumbs the edge of his mug, then hovers the pad of it in range of the steam. the heat collects, wetting his skin. "small in heart. big in -- mind. like my ribs were very tight, bounded and tied down. but my head felt like it was ballooning." oliver skims the digit, wipes the condensation clear from his finger. "there's a sense of -- this is too big to survive -- too large to navigate without a wave, a backsplash. and at the same time, because it's like -- storeys tall, there's a wonder to it. like looking up at a mountain from the base." he turns to look at yu minwei, his figure splayed and long. "i have to look up often anyway," oliver reasons, not gesturing, though his stature is implied in the statement of it.

matches struck against her skin, his kisses are enough to make her want to give up on the pizza idea as well. she didn't bother to fix her appearance as he leaves her, save for removing whatever half gone article that still remains against her skin.

erik's eyes narrowed, searching kane best he could to discover his drive. he wasn't as easy to read as others could be, familiar, in ways that shouldn't matter but certainly did, but he couldn't see through him perfectly. "maybe i could." he hummed, fingers itching for his keys, but the bike was in the shop, so he didn't have much of a choice but to wait.

The brazen confession of dream madness hangs in the air between them for a moment.

oliver smiles, small, knowing. "i made you coffee," he argues in light defence. "plus -- i wasn't trying to find a scoop. the scoop had somehow found me. and when i looked out my window," he turns then, following the motion by peering over at the sunlight streaming through open blinds, "i saw a whale. a behemoth. like a scene from a movie -- a singular, black eye -- tiny in comparison, like a bead, a drop of ink." his attention sways back, chin tipping up with a distant interest, as if relishing in the real, solid memory of it. imagination and the blur of dreaming tend to make asses of his skillset -- the detailed nature inscribed mirroring the experiences he held while conscious. (psychedelics would presumably drive him mad.) "a pinprick wound upon an island. navy, dark blue skin, barnacles and bubbles framing my view. it's a pity animals can't verbalize their stories in words familiar to us," he muses, slowing then to take a sip. it's too early to expand on the ways mammals like them differ -- and are the same -- so oliver relents, shoulders sinking, relieved by the grace of minwei's smile. "what do you want to eat then? -- with the understanding that this isn't a breakfast buffet."