"Yeah," Imogen confirms. She stretches, rolling her shoulders. "Just kinda touch shit until something glows."
It's weird having Merlin back. It's good having Merlin back. She'd been getting kinda tired, but now that he's here and she's gotten to recount her adventures and show off her various cuts like some kinda battle-forged, grizzled veteran of Hell Etcetera, the old habit of pretending everything's easy has started to feel natural again.
She reaches out and scratches Merlin between the shoulder blades as she slips past, toward the makeshift table. More specifically, toward the airplane bottle, which she seems to be eyeing quite thoughtfully.
Despite Merlin's mood, Imogen's touch shit until something glows explanation earns a lopsided smirk and he nods. He can do that. Just to be thorough, he quickly touches the candle's flame before moving on, beginning to investigate the table and each item resting atop it. The thimbles and caps and the minute chunks of food. He recalls discussing this muscheron with Willow and finds himself vaguely curious how all this had turned out for the little creature. And less vaguely wondering if the girl is among the missing.
The feeling of Imogen's hand on his back makes him pause and he glances over at her. And the bottle. "Alcohol poisoning, that's what," he retorts, his amused affection clear even with the are you serious? raise of his eyebrows.
"But we could have just a thimble." That's a joke. The thimbles are tumbler sized. Teasing, Imogen pouts, which morphs into a familiar little smirk as she continues on her way.
Thusly amused -- this almost feels totally normal! - the investigation continues.
She taps at the edge of the spoon with her wand tip, then flips her hand to run knuckles along the outer edge. Not bad. This is totally usable as a mirror, something Imogen can't resist. She nudges up against the Muscheron as if it were just a wayward prop, quietly wedging her way into the reflection so she can check herself out.
Recognizing the pout for what it is even before it transforms into that familiar smirk, Merlin huffs and watches the girl wander over to the spoon mirror. "When all this is over, we can get as shitfaced as you want," he tells her, meaning it. By then, they'll probably have earned that. "Peach schnapps or otherwise."
Then he turns back to the table. He'd seen that...sparkle when he touched the flame and his mind is slowly coming back around to it. Had that meant anything? Or had he imagined it? Just grabbing the flame outright had seemed counterintuitive, but what about this is intuitive, anyway?
Not knowing that his own memory had sent Imogen chasing stars, he calls over to her, "...Hey. Are these things always...I dunno. Solid?"
Imogen perks, indeed thinking of the stars. Draco. A tattoo idea if she's ever had one.
She peers at Merlin with eyebrows raised, then crosses back over to his side, satisfied in her somewhat ragged appearance and immediately distracted by promises of spectacle and victory.
"Touch it again." She reaches out herself, prodding the candlestick roughly with her index finger.
Taking that as a 'no', Merlin reflexively reaches out to steady the candle and gives Imogen a nod of acknowledgment. Done with hesitation, he then reaches out to grab the flame. He does, however, brace himself. If it somehow burns in him this state...he doesn't intend to do more than flinch in front of her.
Merlin doesn't even have time to complain about Imogen swatting his hand away before her callused fingers are slipping between his in an unexpected gesture of affection that renders him momentarily silent. He smiles at the floor before shrugging and retorting as casually as he can, "Yeah? Think we scared the monsters off or what?"
The scene begins again around Merlin and Imogen. Through the cutout in the shoebox's side that serves as a door, the lovely pioppini muscheron enters. The russula glows with affection and adoration. The size of the love, it seems, has nothing to do with the size of the heart that feels it.
Behind the pioppini, the cut out in the cardboard box now leads somewhere else.
[MEMORY COMPLETE! Linchpin acquired! You can continue to thread here or head back to Peckenpaugh through the portal.]
With the scene back in motion and the muscheron preparing for their romantic evening, Merlin suddenly feels a bit ridiculous. They're not here for a double date. They've got work to do. He gives Imogen a small tug before reluctantly slipping his hand from hers and focusing on maneuvering the oversized candle toward the door.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
peckishmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
peckenpaugh2020-06-01 11:18 am
MEMORY: Dinner Date
It's weird having Merlin back. It's good having Merlin back. She'd been getting kinda tired, but now that he's here and she's gotten to recount her adventures and show off her various cuts like some kinda battle-forged, grizzled veteran of Hell Etcetera, the old habit of pretending everything's easy has started to feel natural again.
She reaches out and scratches Merlin between the shoulder blades as she slips past, toward the makeshift table. More specifically, toward the airplane bottle, which she seems to be eyeing quite thoughtfully.
"What if," she states. And that's all.
MEMORY: Dinner Date
The feeling of Imogen's hand on his back makes him pause and he glances over at her. And the bottle. "Alcohol poisoning, that's what," he retorts, his amused affection clear even with the are you serious? raise of his eyebrows.
MEMORY: Dinner Date
Thusly amused -- this almost feels totally normal! - the investigation continues.
She taps at the edge of the spoon with her wand tip, then flips her hand to run knuckles along the outer edge. Not bad. This is totally usable as a mirror, something Imogen can't resist. She nudges up against the Muscheron as if it were just a wayward prop, quietly wedging her way into the reflection so she can check herself out.
MEMORY: Dinner Date
MEMORY: Dinner Date
Then he turns back to the table. He'd seen that...sparkle when he touched the flame and his mind is slowly coming back around to it. Had that meant anything? Or had he imagined it? Just grabbing the flame outright had seemed counterintuitive, but what about this is intuitive, anyway?
Not knowing that his own memory had sent Imogen chasing stars, he calls over to her, "...Hey. Are these things always...I dunno. Solid?"
MEMORY: Dinner Date
She peers at Merlin with eyebrows raised, then crosses back over to his side, satisfied in her somewhat ragged appearance and immediately distracted by promises of spectacle and victory.
"Touch it again." She reaches out herself, prodding the candlestick roughly with her index finger.
MEMORY: Dinner Date
MEMORY: Dinner Date
Every poke and prod of the (contextually) giant candle causes it to glow gold. Looks like Merlin and Imogen have found the linchpin!
MEMORY: Dinner Date
She bats Merlin's hand out of the fire to see how it feels on her own skin, then threads her fingers into his.
"This was like, the easiest one I've done so far."
MEMORY: Dinner Date
MEMORY: Dinner Date - COMPLETE!
Behind the pioppini, the cut out in the cardboard box now leads somewhere else.
[MEMORY COMPLETE! Linchpin acquired! You can continue to thread here or head back to Peckenpaugh through the portal.]
MEMORY: Dinner Date - COMPLETE!
MEMORY: Dinner Date - COMPLETE!
Upon emerging from the memory out into the auditorium, the portal snapped shut behind them.
Elsewhere in the auditorium, a Lovelorn Muscheron and clovers, a magimagicicada were freed!
You can check your token totals in Pouch's shop here, and maybe see if there's anything worth grabbing while you're there!