yseultcai

[yseultcai]

"Oh, trust me. You could get a pretty good storefront going. It'd be for the best if you had a good inventory to start with, that way when orders come in, you can get it out that much more quickly." It was quite a leap from tears to sudden action, but Yseult liked to shift gears quickly. It allowed her mind to find something new to cling to. Projects were her specialty.

A giddy expression appeared on her face. "We really need to start by getting good shipping materials, and it might be good to come up with a name."

“You think that would actually work out?” he asked, eyebrow raised. “You know, you’d have to do all that internet shit for me. Or show me how it works.” Fenrik really ought to get caught up with the times. “And I’d give you a percentage of profits, by the way, if you did manage all that shit, just to be clear. I mean, assuming this even works out.” It wasn’t that Fenrik doubted Yseult’s idea. Mostly, he had no idea how this kind of thing worked online. How prolific something like that could be.

#ch: fenrik

[yseultcai]

"Oh, it's like, an online marketplace type deal. You list your products, and people buy them from the website and you ship it all out. Easier than having to do it all in person or something." Fenrik seemed more like a Facebook Marketplace type of man, but Yseult liked to believe that Etsy had a whimsical nature to it that would be exceedingly better for having Fenrik on it. Like the two ideas couldn't coexist together, so they simply had to.

"I could get you started on it."

Fenrik nodded. He was just glad to know that as big of a presence as Yseult had online and as good as technology she was, she still understood that there were people beyond those screens.

His forehead wrinkled with a familiar expression that Yseult had to be used to by now with his usual lack of knowledge about the internet. “What the fuck is Etsy?” he asked. “I do already make things and do already sell what I can to people who will take it.” He wasn’t sure if the two were related, but he thought he’d clarify just in case. “But I’m open to suggestions if you have them to make that process easier,” he added as an afterthought.

#ch: fenrik

[yseultcai]

"No, no, sometimes the internet is like, the loneliest place in the entire world. Sometimes it only feels like words, and it's just, you know, nice to have someone solid and in the flesh." She had plenty of people online that did support her, that called themselves fans, or even friends. But none of that stopped the creeping fear in the back of her mind. None of them were Fenrik. Fenrik with his steady presence. The easy way in which he navigated Yseult and her moods.

She smiled, and it was large, and broad, taking up her entire face. "You know, you could make things and become an Etsy seller. It'd be kind of cute, watching you package things up and send them on their way."

Fenrik couldn’t help the way the corner of his lips ticked upwards. He was amused at the way she seemed to feel insane about it. However, he wasn’t surprised by the notion. He knew that about Yseult. He also knew that it could be true of the others. It was part of the reason why they all existed together like this. 

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” he said with a shrug, his nose scrunching up.  “Because we all need reminders that we’re not alone in this fucked up world. I mean, I know you’re tech savvy and you know all that internet shit and people say the internet is the one place where you can’t feel lonely because you’ll find that one other weirdo or some shit who’s into whatever you’re into. But I’m not sure it’s the same as having someone in the flesh and blood who’s right next to you. So, you know, just don’t forget that.”

#ch: fenrik

[yseultcai]

She shook her head, doing her best to shake away his own doubts about her reaction. She couldn't ever be upset in a bad way about what he had done. This was Fenrik's love language. It was how he offered himself up however he could, and if he couldn't do it through ultimate acts of service, then something built with his own hands would be the second best option.

"Thank you. Really, I mean it. I'm not upset about the gift, I'm just a little overwhelmed by it, and sometimes I get so inside of my head that I forget other people are thinking about me. So when they acknowledge that they're thinking about me, I feel insane. In a good way insane. Just. Yeah. God."

Fenrik wasn’t altogether surprised by the reaction. He also wasn’t bothered by it. Despite his own normally stoic and abrasive nature, he had still lived with a wife and two daughters who cried frequently. Tears didn’t necessarily bother him and so he didn’t cringe or fault Yseult for crying. He knew her well enough. 

He shrugged at her apology, waving it aside. “Stupid promise to make,” he grunted at her. “Just as long as you’re not crying because this offends you,” he added. “Because that’s not the intent here. I don’t want you to be scared of the world, so I thought if you could feel a little bit safer, hopefully this helps.” Also, Fenrik did worry for her. It made him feel better knowing she wasn’t completely defenseless. He’d given her the dagger last time and she had done what she needed to do, but at least now she could protect herself without the added burden of murder. 

#ch: fenrik #bestie buds

[yseultcai]

Yseult had gone about the brave mission of trying to not be so emotional this year. Of doing her best to tamper down on all of the overflowing feelings that spilled out of her, and becoming more stoic. Obviously it wasn't working. Especially now as she stood in front of Fenrik and proceeded to silently cry. They weren't sad tears, nor necessarily happy ones, but she was touched all the same. This was how Fenrik worked. He did things like this out of the blue, and made it impossible not to love him. He didn't just run to the store and buy her a taser to make her feel safe, he made it. With his own hands, the ones stained with the blood of more people than she could count. Hands that she trusted implicitly.

"I'm sorry, I really promised myself I wouldn't cry but, well, as you can see, I have no control over anything anymore. Especially not my tear ducts. They work for someone else." She was hastily rubbing at her eyes, trying to put herself back together. How could she say thank you for something far beyond the simple act of protection? For his understanding. For his love. Her heart ached.

Fenrik nodded. He got the idea of what she was trying to say. “Yeah, well, I like to be practical,” he said. It was part of why Fenrik was so bad at gift giving whenever the time came around. He could never pick what people might like or want. At least, with most people. However, lucky for him this wasn’t a holiday or birthday and so there was no pressure.

“Which means that it’s not a kitten. Or any animal for that matter.” Instead, Fenrik held up what looked to be an unassuming metal rod. It was about as long as a straw and maybe slightly thicker, though convenient enough to be stored away comfortably and subtly. He pressed on a small button in the center and it immediately became twice as long. There was the faint buzzing of electricity.

“It’s a sort of taser,” he went on to explain. “You know, just in case.” Fenrik was normally an advocate for killing rather than being killed, but he also knew that Yseult was softer. He knew that what had happened those months ago had been traumatic and had affected her deeply. However, he also knew how important it was to protect yourself and thought this was a good solution. “Strong enough to knock out most species, redcaps included. Give you a chance to get away. Non-lethal and probably won’t leave any lasting injuries.”

#ch: yseult #ch8: fenrik

[yseultcai]

"I don't know, I feel like people are always handing out kittens all willy nilly. I mean, obviously they shouldn't be, but kittens are like, universal sign of "Here's This Thing That Should Help, But Maybe Makes Things Worse". Not that anything you give me will make anything worse, but it's the random gift that people least suspect so I suspect it the most." She was rambling, and Yseult knew she currently sounded batshit insane.

"You know? Pretty sure that made sense."

“Sure, but making the phone call would be way quicker, so you’re not spending as long committing to those emotions,” he shrugged. Fenrik had never quite had that same fear using the phone. Besides, given that he has a flip phone, texting wasn’t quite the quick process it was for most everyone else who had bothered to upgrade. 

Fenrik opened his mouth to move on, but stopped. His forehead wrinkled. “Why would you even think it was a kitten to begin with?” he asked. He looked around as if he might see one suddenly running around that she might have spotted and assumed it was for her. 

#ch: fenrik #ch8: fenrik

[yseultcai]

"Because texting takes less emotional energy than suddenly also having to pay attention to the way someone sounds over the phone, and I like that it's a little impersonal that way. Feels significantly less scary." She hit send, placed her phone in her back pocket, and stared up at Fenrik eagerly.

She tilted her head from sound to sound. "What do you have for me? I'm guessing it isn't a kitten, which is for the better because I do not have time to start taking care of an animal. I have no idea how anyone does that. It's like, there's only so many hours in the day and now I also have to worry about this little thing in my home?"

He watched her text, her fingers moving so easily over her phone. Fenrik certainly would rather call than attempt to text anyone. He supposed it was easier given he still had a flip phone, but still. “And why didn’t you call? Seems like it would be way quicker than trying to type out a novel on your phone.”

This felt like one of those moments where there felt like a wide gap between himself and the rest of the gang, even though there was only a decade, give or take a few years, between them. In the grand scheme, it was hardly a big difference, but then he heard himself ask about these sorts of things and could hear himself sounding much older than he actually was.

#ch: fenrik #ch8: fenrik

[yseultcai]

Yseult had been doing the irresponsible thing of staring at her phone instead of what was right in front of her. She knew it was a bad habit, but when she said she was addicted to technology, she absolutely meant it. Really, it just meant that when Fenrik called out she jumped, almost dropping her phone in the process.

Sheepishly she looked around for him, finding him immediately among the grease and grime that suited him so well. If he was ever clean, she'd become suspicious.

"Yeah, yeah hang on let me just finish this long winded text that should've absolutely just been a phone call." She walked over, taking care to not cause another incident on her way.

when: 11 january 2024 where: the compound, bloodhearth who: @yseultcai

“Hey, can you come here for a second?” Fenrik called from inside the compound. He was sitting in the garage at a workbench. As usual, when he was working, he was covered in oil and dirt, his hands in particular were nearly black from the grime of the engine. 

“I’ve got something for you.” Taking a break from checking on cars, he had focused on a secondary project. He was always working on some sort of weapon, trying to improve not just the lethal weapons he favored, but those that anyone else might use. Of course, he knew Yseult wasn’t one for lethal force. He didn’t doubt the incident from a several months ago still weighed heavily on her mind. 

#ch: fenrik #ch8: fenrik

[yseultcai]

"Well, maybe when we like, actually get to know each other, you can crash at my place sometimes." Then, while realizing what she might have been implying, Yseult shook her head. "I should probably clarify that I'm a raging lesbian and this isn't me trying to pick you up. I'm sure you're someone's type, but I couldn't say you're mine." Besides, after everything, she had to make sure everyone knew where they stood where she was concerned. No more strangers stalking her.

Yseult turned toward the door. "I'll text you, okay? And if I don't, you might want to text me because I've probably forgotten, and I absolutely didn't mean to. I like, really really didn't mean to."

#ch: oumar #ch1: oumar #complete #pretty fuckin adorable

[yseultcai]

"Well, maybe when we like, actually get to know each other, you can crash at my place sometimes." Then, while realizing what she might have been implying, Yseult shook her head. "I should probably clarify that I'm a raging lesbian and this isn't me trying to pick you up. I'm sure you're someone's type, but I couldn't say you're mine." Besides, after everything, she had to make sure everyone knew where they stood where she was concerned. No more strangers stalking her.

Yseult turned toward the door. "I'll text you, okay? And if I don't, you might want to text me because I've probably forgotten, and I absolutely didn't mean to. I like, really really didn't mean to."

“Yeah? You think so?” asked Oumar, perking up at the suggestion. “That would be incredible. You just let me know when and where, though, and I’ll make the time.” After all, he didn’t exactly have a steady job or schedule or anything he had to commit to.

Oumar shrugged. “Dunno if it’s bravery. Just kind of my only option. At the moment.” After all, Oumar didn’t plan on being nomadic forever. “Besides, most people don’t bother me. Most people tend to mind their own business and I try not to hang around criminal hotspots. And I’ve never been involved in anything too shady, so I don’t know that I have any enemies that’d be out to get me anyway. It’s alright.”

#ch: oumar #ch1: oumar

[yseultcai]

"When we find a time, you should like, I don't know, bring your keyboard with you. Maybe we can collaborate or something, you know?" She had never actually done that before, which sounded insane now that she was thinking it. But mostly, Yseult kept to her own community, rarely branching out to anyone else. It was rare in the online sphere. Everyone was always networking, finding new people to bring in new viewers. None of that had ever felt important until fear crept so suddenly in.

Yseult laughed. "Noted. You aren't ignoring me, you're just currently without power enough to charge your phone. Pretty cool, to just, live everywhere. I don't think I'm brave enough for any of that. I'm a bit of a scaredy cat about most things, actually."

“Oh yeah, I wish I could play guitar,” said Oumar. “My parents insisted on having me learn to play the piano.” He mimed playing it in the air as he said so. “Which, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate it or anything, and I’m actually pretty good, but guitars are so cool. Also, much easier to carry a guitar around than hauling a keyboard with you everywhere you go.”

Oumar was quick to grab Yseult’s phone, pleased that he had earned her trust so quickly. He put his number into her phone, labeling himself: Oumar B – super cool and not weird cafe fan. He sent himself a quick text, and pulled his own phone out, while handing hers back, so that he could label her in his phone: THE Yseult. “The deed is done,” he said. “By the way, I kind of live a nomadic lifestyle, which means I don’t always have a charge on my phone, but it’s not that I’m ignoring you, it’s just that my phone is dead and I will get back to you as soon as possible.” He figured he could add the disclaimer, thinking of Eva and her annoyance.

#ch: oumar #ch1: oumar #eva out there Stewing rn

[yseultcai]

"Wait until you see my guitars." She grinned, now thoroughly defrosted, ready and willing to keep the conversation going as long as it was naturally occurring. That was the real Yseult. The one who loved speaking to others, learning their stories, sharing as much of herself as she could. She had never been meant to be tucked away in the dark corners of bars. Sometimes, it was simply impossible to see it that way.

Yseult shook his hand before grabbing her phone out of her pocket, unlocking it, and offering it up. "Put yourself in my contacts and text yourself. We can schedule a time that works for everyone. I'm starting school at the beginning of the new year, but I should still be around pretty often."

"Oh, that sounds so cool." Excitement laced Oumar's voice. "Sounds like if you have the right equipment, you could probably even record an album if you ever had the music to do so and self release." Alright, so maybe he was getting ahead of himself there. Writing and producing music was almost an entirely separate affair to being able to sing.

"You know, I have no clue, but I'm Oumar Bloodworth," he said as he held out a hand for a shake.

#ch: oumar #ch1: oumar

[yseultcai]

"It's actually not too shabby. My place is pretty small, but I do my best to invest right away in my equipment. I'm sort of tech-focused." If there was one thing Yseult was good at besides singing, it was cameras, and computers, and mixers, and anything else that required any kind of technical knowledge. Her brain was just as scientifically focused as it was artsy. When she wasn't singing, she was likely hacking into some computer system to help Fenrik. Or making her way through a complicated firewall to get into a camera downtown.

She nodded, feeling better, and far less frazzled than she was before. "I'm sorry did you—did you tell me your name and I completely forgot? Or did you just not tell me your name? I really am usually better at this but I've had a weird few months, and that's the excuse that I'm sticking with."

“Yeah?” asked Oumar with a grin. He was rather surprised, if only because he could tell Yseult had been a bit skittish when he had first gone up to her. Not that he had blamed her. He nodded his head eagerly, though. “That’d be cool, yeah. I’d love that. Also cool to see where you record and all. You must have amazing recording equipment.” Truth be told, she could have the cheapest equipment available on that market and Oumar would still be impressed. Despite coming from money, he still found wonder in the way people without it managed to survive.

“Not forward at all considering I’m the one that came up to you and started blabbering at you,” he pointed out. “I think this could be good. You never know if you don’t try, anyway. Plus, you already have a platform and built in following. People could really respond to your actual voice.”

#ch: oumar #ch1: oumar

[yseultcai]

"Why don't you come over mine sometime? It's really nothing special, but I feel a little more comfortable there, especially since I sort of live close to a lot of my friends." When it came to the compound, she didn't have a fear of being snuck up on from behind. She didn't have to think of Elisa in the alley with her, another potential victim just because of what Yseult did for a living. At least at home, the circumstances were under her control.

She stared at him. "I can't tell if that was too forward of me, but I think I'm tired of what I've always been doing. I wouldn't mind a change." It was either that, or continue spinning her wheels, going around and around in circles. Yseult knew, without a doubt in her mind, that everyone in her life would be grateful if she just got out of her own way. Herself included.

“I suppose,” said Oumar with a shrug. In truth, he wasn’t sure what made a good singer, not from a business standpoint. “Of course, if you never actually try, you’ll never actually know if your voice has something distinct about it that speaks to people. You clearly have the talent. You can hit your notes. You can carry the tune. You know exactly what to do with your voice for each song. Just have to see if you’ve got the natural pipes without wearing someone else’s voice box. Not to put pressure on you, if you’re not looking to break out beyond doing stellar imitations, of course.” And it was true. Oumar had been pushed by his parents into a box he didn’t want to fit into enough to never want anyone to feel the same.

“Hey, if you feel comfortable enough, I would love to offer my opinion,” he grinned. Mostly, he just liked the idea of being able to collaborate on something he genuinely loved doing. “And of course, only in a place you feel comfortable.”

#ch: oumar #ch1: oumar

[yseultcai]

"It's just hard to know if my voice has enough of a personality beyond anything else. To be a really good singer, don't you need to be distinct?" It was an honest question, because Yseult was not one for confrontation. She liked intellectual discussions, never arguments. The best thing to her in life was the ability to hold a conversation with no one getting their feelings hurt. She strived to do that every thing anytime she spoke to anyone. Unless they were stalking her, and then apparently she quickly jumped to the ability to murder someone.

She stared at him, contemplating. "Well, then maybe I should sing, just like, so you can give me your honest opinion. Not here, though. I hate when people start singing unprompted in public spaces like a cafe. Feels a little forced."

"Well, you clearly know how to sing," said Oumar. "That's half the battle. Someone could have a great voice, but if they don't know how to use it, it's useless. Conversely, if you get good enough vocal training and master certain aspects, even if you're never going to be a powerhouse like Adele, that's where people get by on mediocre talent. That's where certain performers get by on being performers instead of singers. But, that's besides the point." Oumar waved a hand.

"Voice like yours though, sounds like it could be a powerhouse. Of course, there's only one way to really be sure," Oumar said, eyebrows raised. "Well, see, it doesn't count unless you perform as yourself. Like I said, you should try it. See what happens."

#ch: oumar #ch1: oumar

[yseultcai]

"How do you know if someone would have a good singing voice?" Now she was curious, but in a different way than she had been previously. It seemed like he really did know what he was talking about. Like there was a skill with music that he possessed and Yseult didn't. That kind of thing didn't happen often for her. She was used to being the best, at being unique enough to standout. What fear remained, evaporated like the steam leaving the tea she still ignored. Mostly because she had forgotten it existed in the first place.

Yseult looked at him. "I mean, I perform at clubs and bars sometimes, but that's usually with my normal routine, and not with my own voice. Haven't done so in a few months, but that's mostly because of personal reasons and not career-oriented." That was a lie, and it wasn't something Yseult did often. She preferred the truth, but lately, the truth never came out.

He grinned at the mention of joining a band. "Yeah?" he asked. "You should try to give it a shot, singing as yourself. Maybe not on the internet. At least not to start with. You sound like you'd have a great singing voice."

Oumar paused. "Have you ever tried just singing out at the train station or something like that?" he asked curiously. "You know, it's a great way to engage an audience. And a great way to practice performing, even. You know, you're not necessarily inflicting yourself on people because they can just walk by and never have to see you again. Or they'll stop and listen. Like troubleshooting your act or performance."

#ch: oumar #ch1: oumar

[yseultcai]

"Exactly!" The enthusiasm of the man, and mostly her own, was beginning to erase all previous apprehensions. Yseult was like that in most ways. Her memory was long, but her ability to bounce back ought to have been studied by now. Especially with the genuine smile that now found itself perched safely on her face, as though it had been there all along instead of the frown in its place. "Musical theory is incredibly important for culture as a whole, especially when we consider all of the places we find music." It was dangerous to get Yseult on a tangent, too.

She shrugged, her shoulders sliding away from her ears, less hunched. "I think, I mean, eventually I'd like to get to that point. Mostly because I've always wanted to join a band, and you need a unique take for that sort of thing. I don't want to just do covers for the rest of my life."

“No, you’re not being weird,” said Oumar, shaking his head. “I probably came on too strong and too hard. I’ve been told I can be like that. Plus, you get me going about anything and I’ll talk for ages until someone stops me.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Right, yeah.” He knew what she meant. After all, it was one thing to sing and go karaoking, but another to try and do more with it and to be able to read music and carry a tune with your voice. “And even just knowing people who like music, you know? I feel nearly everyone in the world has music that they like, but it’s another to just love it and live it.”

“Yeah? You think you ever would?” he asked. “I mean, I dunno, maybe you’ve got the next unique voice, you know, and then other redcaps will be trying to mimic you and how you sound.”

#ch: oumar #ch1: oumar